FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY.

WOLSEY. Farewell, a long farewell, to

all my greatness!

WOL.

Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell? CROM. I have no power to speak, sir. What, amazed my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blos- A great man should decline? Nay, and you

This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth

soms,

At

weep,

And bears his blushing honors thick upon I am fallen indeed.

And when he thinks, good easy man, full I know myself now, and I feel within me

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
heart new opened. Oh how What news abroad?
CROM.

ye; I feel my wretched The heaviest, and the worst, Is that poor man that hangs on princes' Is your displeasure with the king. favors! WOL. God bless him ! CROM. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire

to,

That sweet aspect of princes, and their Lord chancellor in your place. ruin,

More pangs and fears than wars or woman
have;

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

WOL.
That's somewhat sudden;
But he's a learned man. May he continue
Long in His Highness' favor, and do justice
For truth's sake, and his conscience, that his

bones,

When he has run his course and sleeps in The king shall have my service, but my

CROM. That Cranmer is returned with wel- | In all my miseries, but thou hast forced me

come,

Installed lord archbishop of Canterbury.

WOL. That's news indeed.
CROM.
Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was viewed in open, as his queen,
Going to chapel, and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.

Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me,
Cromwell,

And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no

mention

Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee;

WOL. There was the weight that pulled Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of

me down. Oh, Cromwell,

The king has gone beyond me: all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever;
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me,
Cromwell;

I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have
told him

What and how true thou art: he will ad

vance thee;

Some little memory of me will stir him (I know his noble nature) not to let

glory,

And sounded all the depths and shoals of

honor,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise

in

A sure and safe one, though thy master

missed it,

Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambi-

tion;

By that sin fell the angels: how can man, then,

The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee:

Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Crom- Corruption wins not more than honesty. well,

Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.
O my lord,

CROM.

Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his
lord.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and

fear not;

Let all the ends thou aimest at be thy country's,

Thy God's and truth's; then if thou fallest,

O Cromwell,

Thou fallest a blessed martyr. Serve the king;

And Prythee, lead me in;

There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe
And my integrity to Heaven is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell,
Cromwell,

Had I but served my God with half the zeal
God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
CROM. Good sir, have patience.
WOL.

So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell..

to Leicester,

Lodged in the abbey,
Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend
abbot,

With all his convent, honorably received
him;

To whom he gave these words: “O father
abbot,

An old man broken with the storms of state
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick, led be- Give him a little earth for charity!"
tween GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.

GRIF. How does Your Grace?
KATH.

Oh, Griffith, sick to death; My legs like loaden branches bow to the earth,

Willing to leave their burden. Reach a
chair.

So! Now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou leddest

me,

That the great child of honor, Cardinal Wolsey,

Was dead?

GRIF. Yes, madam, but I think Your
Grace,

Out of the pain you suffered, gave no car
to't.

KATH. Prythee, good Griffith, tell me
how he died:

If well, he stepped before me, happily,
For my example.

GRIF. Well, the voice goes, madam;
For after the stout Earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York and brought him for-
ward

So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still; and three nights after
this,

About the hour of eight (which he himself
Foretold should be his last), full of repent-

But his performance, as he is now, nothing,
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

GRIF.

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their vir-
tues

We write in water. May it please Your
Highness

To hear me speak his good now?

KATH.

I were malicious else.

Whom I most hated living thou hast made

me,

With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honor. Peace be with
him!

Patience; be near me still, and set me
lower:

I have not long to trouble thee. Good
Griffith,

Yes, good Griffith; Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

This cardinal,

GRIF.
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashioned to much honor from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him sweet as

summer.

And, though he were unsatisfied in getting
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely. Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford, one of which fell with
him,

Unwilling to outlive the good that did it
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art and still so rising.
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him,
For then, and not till then, he felt himself
And found the blessedness of being little;
And, to add greater honors to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing
God.

KATH. After my death I wish no other Which is the wind that brings the flowers?

herald,

No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honor from corruption,

But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

The west wind, Bessy; and soft and low The birdies sing in the summer hours.

When the west begins to blow.

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

TEACHINGS OF THE ANCIENTS.

FROM THE LATIN OF AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS.

ET a white stone of pure un- | Oh, Hercules, when next I rake the soil,
sullied ray
With a rich treasure recompense my toil!
Record, Macrinus, this thy Or might I, gods, to my young ward suc-

Which not for thee the less Urge on his fate, nor Heaven condemn the auspicious shines

Haste, then, to celebrate this What are your thoughts of him who rules

And large libations to thy As all our judgments rest on what we know
And good is still comparative below,

With splendid gifts you ne'er will seek the Is there a man whom even as Jove you