Not Peer Reviewed
Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)
905The Musick playes, they bring out the banquet. Enter
906Sir Christopher Hales, Cromwell, and two Servants
908And as our bounty now exceeds the figure
909Of common entertainment, so doe you
911Give formal welcome to the thronged tables,
912That shall receive the Cardinals followers,
913And the attendants of the great Lord Chancellor.
914But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee:
915Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,
920Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard
922Through ignorance, or wine, doe miscreate,
923Salve thou with courtesie: if welcome want,
930I look upon thee with a loving eye,
931That one day will prefer thy destiny.
932Enter Messenger.
933Mess. Sir, the Lords be at hand,
935 tend us,
937The Musick playes. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, Sir
938Thomas Moore and Gardiner.
940 banquet too?
942 come,
943That my free heart affords you, I could then become a(prater:
947Yet welcome now, and all that tend on you.
951Their dinner is our banquet, after dinner,
953This I gather, that by their sparing meat,
954Their bodies are more fitter for the Warres:
955And if that famine chance to pinch their mawes,
959Then hunger-starv'd, and ill-complexion'd 'Spaniards;
960They that are rich in Spain, spare belly food,
961To deck their backs with an Italian hood,
962And Silks of Civil: and the poorest Snake,
963That feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers, and ne're heated
965More fat and gallant then his starved face,
966Pride, the Inquisition, and this belly-evil,
967Are in my judgement Spains three-headed Devil.
968Mo. Indeed it is a plague unto their Nation,
969Who stagger after in blind imitation.
972Mo. I love health well, but when as healths doe bring
973Pain to the head, and bodies surfetting:
975For though the drops be small,
976Yet have they force, to force men to the wall.
979One that hath travelled many parts of Christendome,
980 my Lord.
982ler?
983Crom. My Lord, I have added to my knowledge, the
984 Low Countreys,
985France, Spain, Germany, and Italy:
987Yet did it please my eye, content my mind.
989And Princes Courts as you have travelled?
990Crom. My Lord, no Court with England may compare,
991Neither for State, nor civil government:
992Lust dwells in France, in Italy, and Spain,
993From the poor pesant, to the Princes train,
994In Germany, and Holland, Riot serves,
996England I praise not: for I here was born,
999More then can be discern'd by outward eye;
1000Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?
1003Wol. What is thy name?
1004Crom. Cromwell, my Lord.
1007Gardiner, give you kind welcome to the man.
1008Gardiner embraces him.
1009Moor. My Lord, you are a royal Winner.
1010Hath got a man, besides your bounteous dinner,
1011Well, Knight, pray we come no more:
1015So much as with this man of thine,
1016My infant thoughts do spell:
1017Shortly his fortune shall be lifted higher,
1020Hal. Cromwell, farewell.
1021Crom. Cromwell takes his leave of you
1022That ne're will leave to love, and honour you.
1023Exeunt.