164

FIRST PART OF SIR JOHN OLDCASTLE.

Judge. Your kindness merits praise, Sir Richard Lee:

So let us hence.

[ACT V.

[Exeunt all except Powis and COBHAM.

Pow. But Powis still must stay.

There yet remains a part of that true love
He owes his noble friend, unsatisfied
And unperform'd; which first of all doth bind me
To gratulate your lordship's safe delivery;
And then entreat, that since unlook'd-for thus
We here are met, your honour would vouchsafe
To ride with me to Wales, where, to my power,
Though not to quittance those great benefits
I have received of you, yet both my house,
My purse, my servants, and what else I have,
Are all at your command. Deny me not:
I know the bishop's hate pursues you so,
As there's no safety in abiding here.

Cob. 'Tis true, my lord, and God forgive him for it.
Pow. Then let us hence. You shall be straight provided

Of lusty geldings: and once enter'd Wales,

Well may the bishop hunt; but, spite his face,
He never more shall have the game in chase.

[Exeunt.

THE

LIFE AND DEATH

OF

THOMAS LORD CROMWELL.

LORD CROMWELL.

"A BOOKE called The Lyfe and Death of the Lord Cromwell, as yt was lately acted by the Lord Chamberleyn his Servantes," was entered on the Stationers' books by William Cotton, August 11, 1602; and the play was printed in that year. I have met with no earlier edition than that published in 1613, in the title of which it is said to be written by W. S. I believe these letters were not the initials of the real author's name, but added merely with a view to deceive the public, and to induce them to suppose this piece the composition of Shakspeare. The fraud was, I imagine, suggested by the appearance of our author's King Henry VIII., to which the printer probably entertained a hope that this play would be considered as a sequel or second part. Dr. Farmer attributes the authorship to Heywood.

BAGOT, a Money-broker.
FRESCOBALD, a Florentine Mer-
chant.

THE GOVERNOR OF THE ENG.
LISH FACTORY AT ANTWERP.

GOVERNOR and OTHER STATES
OF BONOΝΙΑ.

MASTER OF AN HOTEL IN BO-
ΝΟΝΙΑ.

SEELY, a Publican of Hounslow.

LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER.
YOUNG CROMWELL, the Son of
Thomas.

HODGE, WILL, and TOM; old
Cromwell's Servants.

TWO CITIZENS.

MRS. BANISTER.

JOAN, Wife to Seely.

TWO WITNESSES, & SERJEANT-AT-
ARMS, a HERALD, a HANGMAN,
a POST, MESSENGERS, OFFICERS,
USHERS, and ATTENDANTS.

SCENE, partly in London, and the adjoining district; partly in

Antwerp and Bononia.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Putney. The entrance of a Smith's Shop.

Enter HODGE, WILL, and TOом.

Hodge. Come, masters, I think it be past five o'clock; is it not time we were at work? my old master he'll be stirring anon. Will. I cannot tell whether my old master will be stirring or no; but I am sure I can hardly take my afternoon's nap, for my young Master Thomas. He keeps such a coil in his study, with

the sun, and the moon, and the seven stars, that I do verily think he'll read out his wits.

Hodge. He skill of the stars! There's goodman Car of Fulham (he that carried us to the strong ale, where goody Trundel had her maid got with child), O, he knows the stars; he'll tickle you Charles's wain in nine degrees: that same man will tell goody Trundel when her ale shall miscarry, only by the stars. Tom. Ay! that's a great virtue indeed; I think Thomas be nobody in comparison to him.

Will. Well, masters, come; shall we to our hammers? Hodge. Ay, content: first let's take our morning's draught, and then to work roundly.

Tom. Ay, agreed. Go in, Hodge.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter young CROMWELL.

[Exeunt.

Crom. Good morrow, morn; I do salute thy brightness.

The night seems tedious to my troubled soul,

Whose black obscurity binds in my mind

A thousand sundry cogitations:

And now Aurora with a lively dye

Adds comfort to my spirit, that mounts on high;

Too high indeed, my state being so mean.

My study, like a mineral of gold,

Makes my heart proud, wherein my hope 's enroll'd:

My books are all the wealth I do possess,

And unto them I have engaged my heart.

O, learning, how divine thou seem'st to me,

Within whose arms is all felicity!

[The smiths beat with their hammers, within.

Peace with your hammers! leave your knocking there!

You do disturb my study and my rest:

Leave off, I say: you mad me with the noise.

Enter HODGE, WILL, and Tом.

Hodge. Why, how now, Master Thomas? how now? will you

not let us work for you?

Crom. You fret my heart with making of this noise.

Hodge. How, fret your heart? ay, but Thomas, you'll fret your father's purse, if you let† us from working.

Tom. Ay, this 'tis for him to make him a gentleman. Shall we leave work for your musing? that's well, i' faith. But here comes my old master now.

Enter OLD CROMWELL.

Old Crom. You idle knaves, what are you loit'ring now ?

No hammers, talking, and my work to do!
What, not a heat among your work to-day?

Hodge. Marry, Sir, your son Thomas will not let us work at all.

Old Crom. Why, knave, I say, have I thus cark'd‡ and cared,