These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honor;
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,

Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!

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,

To endure more miseries, and greater far,

Than my weak hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom. The heaviest and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol. God bless him!

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore 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' favor, and do justice
For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept over him!
What more?

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,
This day was view'din open, as the Queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now

Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down; O Cromwell!

The king has gone beyond me; all my glories,

In that one woman, I have lost forever.

No sun shall ever usher forth my 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've told him

1 What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee;

Some little memory of me will stir him,

Luow his noble nature) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too. Go, Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make usenow, and provide
For thy own future safety.

Crom. O my Lord,

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:
The king shall have my service: but, my prayers,
For ever, and for ever shall be yours.

wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,
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 mention
Of me must no more be heard, say then, I taught thee:
Say, Wolsey that once rode the waves of 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 my mastermiss d it.
Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me:
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then
(Tho the image of his Maker) hope to win by it?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that wait thee?
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell!
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king-
And prithee 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 heav'n, is all

I dare to call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in my 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.

Cas.

THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

THAT you have wrong'd

me doth appear in this,

You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,

For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter (praying on his side,
Because I knew the man) was slighted of.
Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.
Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment.
Eru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condem'nd to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

Cas. I an itching palm!

You know that you are Brutus that speak this.
Or, be assured this speech were else your last.

Dru. The name of Cassius honers this corruption,

And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cac. Chastisement!

Bru. Remember March; the ides of March remember;

Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
What villain touch'd his body that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers? shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with these bribes?
And sell the mighty meed of our large honors
For so much trach as may be grasped thus ?
I would rather be a dog and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas. Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it; you forget yourself.
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Eru. Go to; you are not, Cassius.
Cas. I am.

Bru. I say you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself

Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther.

u. Away slight man!

Is it possible?

Hear me, for I will speak,

Must I give way and room to your rash choler ?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?

Cas. Must I endure all this?

Bru. All this? aye more. Fret till your proud heart breaks.

Go tell your servants how cholerie you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ?
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? Be assured,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this!

Bru. You say you are a better soldier;
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For my own part,

I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus. I said an elder soldier, not a better; Did I say a better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Cas. When Cæsar liv'd he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

Cas. I durst not ?

Bru. No.

Cas. What! durst not tempt him?

Bru. For your life you durst not.

Cus. Do not presume too much upon my love;

I may do what I shall be sorry for.

Bru. You have done what you shall be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats?
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me :
For I can raise no money by vile means.
By Heaven, I'd rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hand of peasants, their vile trash,
By any indirection. I did send

To you for gold to pay my legions,

Which you denied me; was that done like Cassius?

2

Should I have answered Caius Cassius so
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters fiom his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunder bolts,
Dash him to pieces.

Cas. I deny'd you not

Bru. You did.

Cas. I did not he was but a fool

That bro't my answer back.

Brutus hath rived my heart;

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,

1

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not. Still you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do

Appearas huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony and young Octavius, core! Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Check'd by a bondman; all his faults observ'd : Set in a note book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. OI could weep My spirit from my eyes! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast-within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold! If that thou need'st a Roman's, take it forth. I that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart. Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar: for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovd'st him better Than ever thou lovd'st Cassius.

Bru. Sheath your dagger :

De angry when you will, it shall have scope:
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire:
Which much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Hath Cassius lived

be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
en grief, and blood ill temper'd vexeth him

When I spoke that, I was ill tempered too.