LXXXVI. WOLSEY and CROMWELL. Wol. This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth Wol. F AREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness! The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride Never to rise again. [Enter CROMWELL.] Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have not power to speak, Sir. At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder I'm fallen indeed. Crom. How does your grace? Wol. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. A peace, above all earthly dignities; 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, To endure more miseries, and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 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, Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down, 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. (That sun I pray may never set) I've told him (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Go Cromwell, Neglect him not: make use now, and provide Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear And sleep in dull cold marble, where mention Of me must no more be heard, say then, I taught thee : 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, And prithee lead me in There take an inventory of all I have; To the last penny, 'tis the king's. My robe, I dare to call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Crom. Good Sir, have patience. Wol. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell. LXXXVII. The QUARREL of BRUTUS and CASSIUS. For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case." Cas. I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, Cas. 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 base bribes ? And sell the mighty meed of our large honours For so much trash 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, Bru. Go to; you are not Cassius. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more. I shall forget myself Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is it possible! Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way to your rash choler? Cas. Must I endure all this! Bru. All this! ay more. Fret till your proud heart breaks. Go tell your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Cas. Is it come to this! Bru. You say you are a better soldier ; Cas. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus. I said, an older soldier, not a better: Did I I say a better? Bru. If you did I care not. Cas. When Cæsar liv'd he durst not thus have mov'd 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. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love: 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, For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; And drop my blood for drachms, than to wring To you for gold to pay my legions, |