Who trust in princes should be thus rewarded.
Edw. I thought, my lord, I had full well repaid
Your services with honours, wealth, and power
Unlimited; thy all-directing hand
Guided in secret every latent wheel
Of government, and moved the whole machine;
Warwick was all in all, and powerless Edward
Stood like a cipher in the great account.

War. Who gave that cipher worth, and seated thee On England's throne? thy undistinquished name Had rotted in the dust from whence it sprung, And mouldered in oblivion, had not Warwick Dug from its sordid mine the useless ore, And stamped it with a diadem. Thou know'st This wretched country, doomed perhaps like Rome To fall by its own self-destroying hand, Tossed for so many years in the rough sea Of civil discord, but for me had perished. In that distressful hour I seized the helm, Bade the rough wave subside in peace; and steered Your shattered vessel safe into the harbour. You may despise perhaps, that useless aid Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth, He who forgets a friend, deserves a foe.

Edw. Know too, reproach for benefits received
Pays every debt, and cancels obligation.

War. Why, that indeed is frugal honesty,
A thrifty, saving knowledge; when the debt
Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharged.
A sponge will wipe out all, and cost you nothing.

Edw. When you have counted o'er the numerous train

Of mighty gifts your bounty lavished on me,
You may remember next the injuries
Which I have done you; let me know them all,
And I will make you ample satisfaction.

War. Thou canst not; thou hast robbed me of a

jewel

It is not in thy power to restore:

I was the first, shall future annals say,

That broke the sacred bonds of public trust,

Aud mutual confidence: ambassadors,
In aftertimes, mere instruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, shall recal my name
To witness, that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt to sanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves

That haunt your court, could none be found but

Warwick,

To be the shameless herald of a lie?

Edw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on

me?

If I have broke my faith, and stained the name
Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels,
That urged me to it, and extorted from me
A cold consent to what my heart abhorred.

War. I've been abused, insulted and betrayed; My injured honour cries aloud for vengeance, Her wounds will never close!

Edw. These gusts of passion
Will but inflame them; if I have been right
Informed, my Lord, besides the dangerous fears
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal: such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.

War. Elizabeth!

Edw. Nay, start not, I have cause
To wonder most; I little thought indeed
When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me.
But I've discovered all.

War. And so have I;

Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy fruitless, base endeavours to supplant me.

Edw. I scorn it Sir; Elizabeth hath charms,
And I have equal right with you to admire them:
Nor see I ought so godlike in the form,
So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the charms
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

War. By Heav'n, 'tis false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,

Whilst I was busied in the noble office,
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman, -
To bribe her passions high, and basely steal
A treasure which your kingdom could not purchase.
Edw. How know you that? but be it as it may,

I had a right, nor will I tamely yield
My claim to happiness, the privilege,
To choose the partner of my throne and bed:
It is a branch of my prerogative.

1

War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants: A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown With specious lustre, lent but to betray: You had it, Sir, and hold it from the people.

Edw. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine; But when proud faction and her rebel crew Insult their sovereign, trample on his laws, And bid defiance to his power, the people, In justice to themselves, will then defend His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.

War. Go to your darling people then; for soon, If I mistake not, 'twill be needful; try Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause, If I forbid him.

Edw. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words. I've been your slave too long, And you have ruled me with a rod of iron.

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master,

And will be so: the king who delegates

His power to other's hands, but ill deserves
The crown he wears.

War. Look well then to your own;
It sits but loosely on your head; for, know,
The man who injured Warwick never passed
Unpunished yet.

Edw. Nor he who threatened Edward-
You may repent it, Sir-my guards there! seize
This traitor, and convey him to the tower;
There let him learn obedience.

CARDINAL WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.

SHAKSPEARE.

Wol. (alone.) 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 he thinks, good easy man, full surely,
His greatness is a ripening, nips his shoot,
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured
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 opened. O, 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.

Enter Cromwell.

Why, how now, Cromwell?

Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.

Wol. What! amazed at my misfortunes? Can

thy spirit wonder

A great man should decline? Nay, if you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your Grace?
Wol. Why, well;-

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities;

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and, from these shoulders,
These ruined pillars, out of pity taken

A load would sink a navy, too much honour.
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 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, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphan's tears wept on him!

What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome;
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.

Wol. There was the weight that pulled 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 honours,
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
What and how true thou art; he will advance thee:

..