Make them not rich; let them be poor and honest. Duke. I will, I will. Bianca. Why then 'tis time, 'tis time. And thou believest he is no murderer? [DUKE bows assent. [Dies. REV. HENRY HART MILMAN. FROM "HENRY EIGHTH.” Wolsey. FAREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when be thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his shoot; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, These many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me: and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man who hangs on princes' favour! There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, More pangs and fears than war or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Why, how now, Cromwell? Cromwell. I have no power to speak, Sir. At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder Crom. Wol. How does your Grace? Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. Why, well; A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, A load would sink a navy, too much honour. Crom. I'm glad your Grace has made that right use of it. Wol. I hope I have: I'm able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, T'endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. Wol. That's somewhat sudden But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his Highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That's news indeed. Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down: 0 The king has gone beyond me: all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth my honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell, To be thy lord and master. Seek the king, (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. Crom. O my Lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service; but my prayers Wol. I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou hast forced me, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Still in thy right hand carry gentle Peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Thy God's, and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the King And pr'ythee lead me in There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny 'tis the King's. My robe, I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Enter ADAM, EVE, ADAH, and ZILLAH. Adam. A voice of woe from Zillah brings me here.— What do I see?-'Tis true !-My son !-my son ! Woman, behold the serpent's work, and thine! [To EVE. Eve. Oh! speak not of it now! the serpent's fangs Are in my heart. My best beloved, Abel ! Jehovah this is punishment beyond A mother's sin to take him from me! Adam. Who, Or what hath done this deed ?—Cain, since thou Breaks through, as from a thunder-cloud! yon brand, Massy and bloody! snatch'd from off the altar, And black with smoke, and red with Adam. Speak, my son ! Speak, and assure us, wretched as we are, Adah. Speak, Cain! and say it was not thou! I see it now-he hangs his guilty head, It was. |