Not Peer Reviewed
Thomas Lord Cromwell (Folio 3, 1664)
1124Enter Friskiball, very poor.
1127Fortune that turns her too unconstant wheel,
1128Hath turn'd thy wealth and riches in the Sea,
1129All parts abroad where-ever I have been,
1130Grows weary of me, and denies me succour;
1131My debters they, that should relieve my want,
1133They know my state too mean, to bear out Law;
1134And here in London, where I oft have been,
1135And have done good to many a wretched man,
1137In vain it is, more of their hearts to try;
1138Be patient therefore, lay thee down and die.
1139He lies down.
1140Enter good-man Seely, and his Wife Joan.
1142now? I wis we have done for him, when many a time and
1143often he might have gone a hungry to bed.
1144Wife. Alas man, now he is made a Lord, he'll never
1145look upon us; he'll fulfill the old Proverb, Set Beggars a
1146horse-back, and they'll ride: â, well-a-day for my Cow;
1147such as he hath made us come behind-hand, we had never
1148pawn'd our Cow else to pay our Rent.
1149Seely. Well Joan, he'll come this way: and by God's
1150dickers I'le tell him roundly of it, and if he were ten Lords:
1152nothing.
1154mouch upon my Cheese-cakes, he hath forgot this now,
1155but now we'll remember him.
1157tail: but ifaith I'le gibber a joint, but I'le tell him his
1159stand up.
1160Enter Hodge very fine, with a Tip-staff, Cromwell, the
1161Mace carried before him; Norfolk, and
1162Suffolk, and attendants.
1164Come out, good people; run before there ho.
1165Friskiball riseth, and stands a-far-off.
1166Seely. I, we are kicked away now, we come for our
1167own; the time hath been, he would a looked more
1168friendly upon us: And you, Hodge, we know you well
1172I owe thee money, father, do I not?
1175at home.
1177And look your wife, and you do stay to dinner:
1178And while you live, I freely give to you,
1179Four pound a year, for the four pound I ought you.
1181Now God bless thee, good Lord Tom:
1182Home Joan, home; I'le dine with my Lord Tom to day,
1183And thou shalt come next week.
1184Fetch my Cow; home Joan, home.
1185Wife. Now God bless thee, my good Lord Tom;
1186I'le fetch my Cow presently.
1187Enter Gardiner.
1192 end.
1194But let that pass: the King doth love him well.
1196I know you bear me hard, about the Abbey lands.
1198You had no colour for what you have done.
1200And of his Popish order from our Realm:
1201I am no enemy to Religion,
1202But what is done, it is for England's good:
1204Of lazy Abbots, and of full-fed Fryers?
1205They neither plow, nor sow, and yet they reap
1206The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor:
1207Look what was theirs, is in King Henrie's hands,
1208His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands.
1210When, God doth know, the infant yet unborn,
1211Will curse the time, the Abbies were pul'd down:
1212I pray now where is Hospitality?
1214For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
1215When weary travel doth oppress their limmes?
1216And where religious men should take them in,
1217Shall now be kept back by a Mastive dog:
1220'Tis bootless to complain.
1222Nor. We'll follow you, my Lord, pray lead the way.
1223Enter old Cromwell, like a Farmer.
1224Old Crom. How? one Cromwell made Lord Keeper,
1226And dwelt in York-shire? I never heard better newes:
1229Father, on my knee I crave your blessing:
1230One of my Servants go and have him in,
1231At better leisure will we talk with him.
1232Old Crom. Now if I die, how happy were the day,
1234Exit old Cromwell.
1236Crom. Go on before, for time drawes on a pace.
1237Exeunt all but Friskiball.
1238Fris. I wonder what this Lord would have with me,
1240I never did offend him to my knowledge:
1241Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all,
1242Worse then I am, now never can befall.
1243Enter Banister and his Wife.
1246Last night, they would come dine with me,
1247And take their bond in: I pray thee hie thee home,
1251She runs and embraces him.
1256Is Banister your poor friend forgot?
1259That had more kindnesse at my hands then you,
1262I never would look my husband in the face,
1263But hate him as I would a Cockatrice.
1266And for the thousand pound I owe to you,
1267I have it ready for you, sir, at home:
1268And though I grieve your fortune is so bad:
1269Yet that my hap's to help you makes me glad:
1271Fris. Not yet I cannot, for the Lord Chancellor,
1272Hath here commanded me to wait on him,
1273For what I know not, pray God it be for good.
1274Ba. Never make doubt of that, I'le warrant you,
1275He is as kind a noble Gentleman,
1278We'll go along and bear you company:
1279I know we shall not want for welcome there?
1280Fris. Withall my heart: but what's become of Bagot?
1281Ba. He is hanged for buying Jewels of the Kings.
1283The time drawes on, sir, will you go along.
1285Exeunt omnes.