Crom.
Thus far my reckoning doth go straight and even.
But, Cromwell, this same plodding fits not thee;
Thy mind is altogether set on travel,

And not to live thus cloyster'd like a nun.
It is not this same trash that I regard:
Experience is the jewel of my heart. Enter a Post.

Post.
I pray, sir, are you ready to dispatch me?

Crom.
Yes; here's those sums of money you must carry.
You go so far as Frankford, do you not?

Post.
I do, sir.

Crom.
Well, pr'ythee make then all the haste thou canst;
For there be certain English gentlemen
Are bound for Venice, and may happily want,
An if that you should linger by the way:
But in the hope that you will make good speed,
There's two angels, to buy you spurs and wands^{3 note}.

Post.
I thank you, sir; this will add wings indeed. [Exit Post.

Crom.
Gold is of power to make an eagle's speed. Enter Mrs. Banister.
What gentlewoman is this that grieves so much?
It seems she doth address herself to me.

Mrs. Ban.

God save you, sir. Pray is your name master Cromwell?

Crom.
My name is Thomas Cromwell, gentlewoman.

Mrs. Ban.
Know you one Bagot, sir, that's come to Antwerp?

Crom.
No, trust me, I ne'er saw the man; but here
Are bills of debt I have receiv'd against
One Banister, a merchant fall'n to decay.

Mrs. Ban.
Into decay indeed, 'long of that wretch.
I am the wife to woeful Banister,
And by that bloody villain am pursu'd,
From London, here to Antwerp. My husband
He is in the governour's hands; and God
Of heaven knows how he will deal with him.
Now, sir, your heart is fram'd of milder temper;
Be merciful to a distressed soul,
And God no doubt will treble bless your gain.

Crom.
Good mistress Banister, what I can, I will,
In any thing that lies within my power.

Mrs. Ban.
O speak to Bagot, that same wicked wretch:
An angel's voice may move a damned devil.

Crom.
Why is he come to Antwerp, as you hear?

Mrs. Ban.
I heard he landed some two hours since.

Crom.
Well, mistress Banister, assure yourself
I'll speak to Bagot in your own behalf,
And win him to all the pity that I can.
Mean time, to comfort you in your distress,
Receive these angels to relieve your need;
And be assur'd, that what I can effect,
To do you good, no way I will neglect.

Mrs. Ban.
That mighty God that knows each mortal's heart,
Keep you from trouble, sorrow, grief, and smart. [Exit Mistress Banister.

Crom.
Thanks, courteous woman, for thy hearty prayer.
It grieves my soul to see her misery:
But we that live under the work of fate,
May hope the best, yet know not to what state
Our stars and destinies have us assign'd;
Fickle is Fortune, and her face is blind. [Exit.

SCENE II. A street in Antwerp. Enter Bagot.

Bag.
So, all goes well; it is as I would have it.
Banister, he is with the governour,
And shortly shall have gyves upon his heels.
It glads my heart to think upon the slave;
I hope to have his body rot in prison,
And after hear his wife to hang herself,
And all his children die for want of food.
The jewels I have with me brought to Antwerp,
Are reckon'd to be worth five thousand pound;
Which scarcely stood me in three hundred pound.
I bought them at an easy kind of rate;
I care not much which way they came by them,
That sold them me; it comes not near my heart:
And lest they should be stolen, (as sure they are,)
I thought it meet to sell them here in Antwerp;
And so have left them in the governour's hand,
Who offers me within two hundred pound
Of all my price: but now no more of that.—
I must go see an if my bills be safe,
The which I sent before to master Cromwell;
That if the wind should keep me on the sea,
He might arrest him here before I came:
And in good time, see where he is. Enter Cromwell.
God save you sir.

Crom.
And you.—Pray pardon me, I know you not.

Bag.
It may be so, sir; but my name is Bagot;
The man that sent to you the bills of debt.

Crom.
O, you're the man that pursues Banister.
Here are the bills of debt you sent to me;
As for the man, you know best where he is.

It is reported you have a flinty heart,
A mind that will not stoop to any pity,
An eye that knows not how to shed a tear,
A hand that's always open for reward.
But, master Bagot, would you be rul'd by me,
You should turn all these to the contrary:
Your heart should still have feeling of remorse^{4 note},
Your mind, according to your state, be liberal
To those that stand in need and in distress;
Your hand to help them that do stand in want,
Rather than with your poise to hold them down^{5 note}
:
For every ill turn show yourself more kind;
Thus should I do; pardon, I speak my mind.

Bag.
Ay, sir, you speak to hear what I would say;
But you must live, I know, as well as I.
I know this place to be extortion^{6 note}

Crom.
My gain? I had rather chain me to an oar,
And, like a slave, there toil out all my life,

Before I'd live so base a slave as thou.
I, like an hypocrite, to make a show
Of seeming virtue, and a devil within!
No, Bagot; if thy conscience were as clear,
Poor Banister ne'er had been troubled here.

Bag.
Nay, good master Cromwell, be not angry, sir,
I know full well that you are no such man;
But if your conscience were as white as snow,
It will be thought that you are otherwise.

Crom.
Will it be thought that I am otherwise?
Let them that think so, know they are deceiv'd.
Shall Cromwell live to have his faith misconstru'd?
Antwerp, for all the wealth within thy town,
I will not stay here full two hours longer.—
As good luck serves, my accounts are all made even;
Therefore I'll straight unto the treasurer.
Bagot, I know you'll to the governour:
Commend me to him; say I am bound to travel,
To see the fruitful parts of Italy;
And as you ever bore a Christian mind,
Let Banister some favour of you find.

Bag.
For your sake, sir, I'll help him all I can—
To starve his heart out ere he gets a groat; [Aside.
So, master Cromwell, do I take my leave,
For I must straight unto the governour.

Crom.
Farewel, sir; pray you remember what I said. [Exit Bagot.
No, Cromwell, no; thy heart was ne'er so base,
To live by falshood, or by brokery.
But it falls out well; I little it repent;
Hereafter time in travel shall be spent. Enter Hodge.

Hodge.

Your son Thomas, quoth you! I have

been Thomass'd^{7 note}. I had thought it had been no such matter to ha' gone by water; for at Putney, I'll go you to Parish-Garden^{8 note} for two-pence; sit as still as may be, without any wagging or jolting in my guts, in a little boat too: here, we were scarce four miles in the great green water, but I, thinking to go to my afternoon's nuncheon, as 'twas my manner at home, felt a kind of rising in my guts. At last, one of the sailors spying of me—be of good cheer, says he; set down thy victuals, and up with it; thou hast nothing but an eel in thy belly. Well, to't went I, to my victuals went the sailors; and thinking me to be a man of better experience than any in the ship, ask'd me what wood the ship was made of: they all swore I told them as right as if I had been acquainted with the carpenter that made it. At last we grew near land, and I grew villainous hungry, and went to my bag. The devil a bit there was, the sailors had tickled me; yet I cannot blame them: it was a part of kindness; for I in kindness told them what wood the ship was made of, and they in kindness eat up my victuals; as indeed one good turn asketh another. Well, would I could find my master Thomas in this Dutch town! he might put some English beer into my belly.

Crom.
What, Hodge, my father's man! by my hand welcome.
How doth my father? what's the news at home?

Hodge.

Master Thomas, O God! Master Thomas, your hand, glove and all: This is to give you to understanding,

that your father is in health, and Alice Downing here hath sent you a nutmeg, and Bess Make-water a race of ginger^{9 note}; my fellows Will and Tom hath between them sent you a dozen of points^{1 note}; and goodman Toll, of the goat* ^note, a pair of mittens: myself came in person; and this is all the news.

Crom.
Gramercy good Hodge, and thou art welcome to me,
But in as ill a time thou comest as may be;
For I am travelling into Italy.
What say'st thou, Hodge? wilt thou bear me company?

Hodge.

Will I bear thee company, Tom? what tell'st me of Italy? Were it to the farthest part of Flanders, I would go with thee, Tom: I am thine in all weal and woe; thy own to command. What, Tom! I have pass'd the rigorous waves of Neptune's blasts. I tell you, Thomas, I have been in danger of the floods; and when I have seen Boreas begin to play the ruffian with us^{2 note}

Crom.

And why upon him?

Hodge.

Because, as this same fellow Neptune is

god of the seas, so Vulcan is lord over the smiths; and therefore I, being a smith, thought his godhead would have some care yet of me.

Crom.
A good conceit: but tell me, hast thou din'd yet?

Hodge.

Thomas, to speak the truth, not a bit yet, I.

Crom.
Come, go with me, thou shalt have cheer, good store;
And farewel, Antwerp, if I come no more.

Hodge.
I follow thee, sweet Tom, I follow thee. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Another street in the same. Enter the Governour of the English factory, Bagot, Mr. and Mrs. Banister, and two Officers.

Gov.
Is Cromwell gone then say you, master Bagot?
On what dislike, I pray you? what was the cause?

Bag.
To tell you true, a wild brain of his own;
Such youth as he can't see when they are well.
He is all bent to travel, (that's his reason,)
And doth not love to eat his bread at home.

Gov.
Well, good fortune with him, if the man be gone.
We hardly shall find such a one as he,
To fit our turns, his dealings were so honest.
But now, sir, for your jewels that I have—
What do you say? what, will you take my price?

Bag.
O, sir, you offer too much under foot^{3 note}.

Gov.
'Tis but two hundred pound between us, man;
What's that in payment of five thousand pound?

Bag.
Two hundred pound! by'r lady, sir, 'tis great;
Before I got so much, it made me sweat.

Gov.
Well, master Bagot, I'll proffer you fairly.
You see this merchant, master Banister,
Is going now to prison at your suit;
His substance all is gone: what would you have?
Yet, in regard I knew the man of wealth,
(Never dishonest dealing, but such mishaps
Have fallen on him, may light on me or you)
There is two hundred pound between us two;
We will divide the same: I'll give you one,
On that condition you will set him free.
His state is nothing; that you see yourself;
And where nought is, the king must lose his right.

Bag.
Sir, sir, I know you speak out of your love:
'Tis foolish love, sir, sure, to pity him.
Therefore content yourself; this is my mind;
To do him good I will not bate a penny.

Ban.
This is my comfort, though thou dost no good,
A mighty ebb follows a mighty flood.

Mrs. Ban.
O thou base wretch, whom we have fostered,
Even as a serpent, for to poison us!
If God did ever right a woman's wrong,
To that same God I bend and bow my heart,
To let his heavy wrath fall on thy head,
By whom my hopes and joys are butchered.

Bag.
Alas, fond woman! I pr'ythee pray thy worst;
The fox fares better still when he is curst. Enter Bowser.

Gov.
Master Bowser! you're welcome, sir, from England.
What's the best news? and how do all our friends?

Bow.
They are all well, and do commend them to you.
There's letters from your brother and your son:

So, fare you well, sir; I must take my leave:
My haste and business doth require so.

Gov.
Before you dine, sir? What, go you out of town?

Bow.
I'faith unless I hear some news in town,
I must away; there is no remedy.

Gov.
Master Bowser, what is your business? may I know it?

Bow.
You may so, sir, and so shall all the city.
The king of late hath had his treasury robb'd,
And of the choicest jewels that he had:
The value of them was seven thousand pounds.
The fellow that did steal these jewels is hang'd;
And did confess that for three hundred pound
He sold them to one Bagot dwelling in London.
Now Bagot's fled, and, as we hear, to Antwerp;
And hither am I come to seek him out;
And they that first can tell me of his news,
Shall have a hundred pound for their reward.

Ban.
How just is God to right the innocent!

Gov.
Master Bowser, you come in happy time:
Here is the villain Bagot that you seek,
And all those jewels have I in my hands:
Here, officers, look to him, hold him fast.

Bag.

The devil ought me a shame, and now hath paid it.

Bow.
Is this that Bagot? Fellows, bear him hence;
We will not now stand here for his reply.
Lade him with irons^{4 note}; we will have him try'd
In England, where his villanies are known.

Bag.
Mischief, confusion, light upon you all!
O hang me, drown me, let me kill myself;
Let go my arms, let me run quick to hell.

Bow.
Away; bear him away; stop the slave's mouth. [Exeunt Officers and Bagot.

Mrs. Ban.
Thy works are infinite, great God of heaven.

Gov.
I heard this Bagot was a wealthy fellow.

Bow.
He was indeed; for when his goods were seiz'd,
Of jewels, coin, and plate, within his house
Was found the value of five thousand pound;
His furniture fully worth half so much;
Which being all distrained for the king,
He frankly gave it to the Antwerp merchants;
And they again, out of their bounteous mind;
Have to a brother of their company,
A man decay'd by fortune of the seas,
Given Bagot's wealth, to set him up again,
And keep it for him; his name is Banister.

Gov.
Master Bowser, with this most happy news
You have reviv'd two from the gates of death:
This is that Banister, and this his wife.

Bow.
Sir, I am glad my fortune is so good
To bring such tidings as may comfort you.

Ban.
You have given life unto a man deem'd dead;
For by these news my life is newly bred.

Mrs. Ban.
Thanks to my God, next to my sovereign king;
And last to you, that these good news do bring.

Gov.
The hundred pound I must receive, as due
For finding Bagot, I freely give to you.

Bow.
And, master Banister, if so you please,
I'll bear you company, when you cross the seas.

Ban.
If it please you, sir;—my company is but mean:
Stands with your liking, I will wait on you^{5 note}.

Gov.
I am glad that all things do accord so well.

Come, master Bowser, let us in to dinner;
And, mistress Banister, be merry, woman.
Come, after sorrow now let's cheer your spirit;
Knaves have their due, and you but what you merit. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. The principal bridge at Florence. Enter Cromwell and Hodge in their shirts, and without hats.

Hodge.

Call you this seeing of fashions? marry would I had staid at Putney still. O, master Thomas, we are spoil'd, we are gone.

Crom.

Content thee, man; this is but fortune.

Hodge.

Fortune! a plague of this fortune, it makes me go wet-shod; the rogues would not leave me a shoe to my feet.

For my hose,
They scorn'd them with their heels:
But for my doublet and hat,
O Lord, they embrac'd me,
And unlac'd me,
And took away my cloaths,
And so disgrac'd me.

Crom.

Well, Hodge, what remedy? What shift shall we make now?

Hodge.

Nay I know not. For begging I am naught; for stealing worse. By my troth, I must even fall to my old trade, to the hammer and the horse-heels again:—But now the worst is, I am not acquainted with the humour of the horses in this country; whether they are not coltish, given much to kicking, or no: for when I have one leg in my

hand, if he should up and lay t'other on my chaps, I were gone; there lay I, there lay Hodge.

Crom.

Hodge, I believe thou must work for us both.

Hodge.

O, master Thomas, have not I told you of this? Have not I many a time and often said, Tom, or master Thomas, learn to make a horse-shoe, it will be your own another day: this was not regarded.— Hark you, Thomas! what do you call the fellows that robb'd us?

Crom.

The banditti.

Hodge.

The banditti do you call them? I know not what they are call'd here, but I am sure we call them plain thieves in England. O, Tom, that we were now at Putney, at the ale there^{6 note}!

Crom.
Content thee, man: here set up these two bills,
And let us keep our standing on the bridge.
The fashion of this country is such,
If any stranger be oppress'd with want,
To write the manner of his misery;
And such as are dispos'd to succour him, [Hodge sets up the bills.
Will do it. What, Hodge, hast thou set them up?

Hodge.

Ay, they are up; God send some to read them^{7 note}


, and not only to read them, but also to look on us: and not altogether look on us, but to relieve us. O, cold, cold, cold!

Enter Frescobald.

Fres. [reads the bills.]
What's here?
Two Englishmen, and robb'd by the banditti!
One of them seems to be a gentleman.
'Tis pity that his fortune was so hard,
To fall into the desperate hands of thieves:
I'll question him of what estate he is.
God save you, sir. Are you an Englishman?

Crom.

I am, sir, a distressed Englishman.

Fres.

And what are you, my friend?

Hodge.

Who, I sir? by my troth I do not know myself, what I am now; but, sir, I was a smith, sir, a poor farrier of Putney. That's my master, sir, yonder; I was robb'd for his sake, sir.

Fres.
I see you have been met by the banditti,
And therefore need not ask how you came thus.
But Frescobald, why dost thou question them
Of their estate, and not relieve their need?
Sir, the coin I have about me is not much:
There's sixteen ducats for to clothe yourselves,
There's sixteen more to buy your diet with,
And there's sixteen to pay for your horse-hire.
'Tis all the wealth, you see, my purse possesses;
But if you please for to enquire me out,
You shall not want for aught that I can do.
My name is Frescobald, a Florence merchant,
A man that always lov'd your nation.

Crom.
This unexpected favour at your hands,
Which God doth know, if e'er I shall requite—
Necessity makes me to take your bounty,
And for your gold can yield you nought but thanks.
Your charity hath help'd me from despair;
Your name shall still be in my hearty prayer.

Fres.
It is not worth such thanks: come to my house;
Your want shall better be reliev'd than thus.

Crom.
I pray, excuse me; this shall well suffice,
To bear my charges to Bononia,
Whereas a noble earl is much distress'd^{8 note}

.
An Englishman, Russel the earl of Bedford,
Is by the French king sold unto his death.
It may fall out, that I may do him good;
To save his life, I'll hazard my heart-blood.
Therefore, kind sir, thanks for your liberal gift;
I must be gone to aid him; there's no shift.

Fres.
I'll be no hinderer to so good an act.
Heaven prosper you in that you go about!
If fortune bring you this way back again,
Pray let me see you: so I take my leave;
All good a man can wish, I do bequeath. [Exit Frescobald.

Crom.
All good that God doth send, light on your head!
There's few such men within our climate bred.
How say you Hodge? is not this good fortune?

Hodge.

How say you? I'll tell you what, master Thomas; if all men be of this gentleman's mind, let's keep our standings upon this bridge; we shall get more here, with begging in one day, than I shall with making horse-shoes in a whole year.

Crom.
No, Hodge, we must be gone unto Bononia,
There to relieve the noble earl of Bedford:
Where, if I fail not in my policy,
I shall deceive their subtle treachery.

Hodge.

Nay, I'll follow you. God bless us from the thieving banditti again.

SCENE II. Bononia^{9 note}. A room in an hotel. Enter Bedford and Host.

Bed.
Am I betray'd? was Bedford born to die
By such base slaves, in such a place as this?
Have I escap'd so many times in France,
So many battles have I over-pass'd,
And made the French stir, when they heard my name^{1 note}

Host.
They do desire, my lord, to speak with you.

Bed.
The traitors do desire to have my blood;
But by my birth, my honour, and my name,
By all my hopes, my life shall cost them dear.
Open the door; I'll venture out upon them,
And if I must die, then I'll die with honour.

Host.
Alas, my lord, that is a desperate course:
They have begirt you round about the house.
Their meaning is, to take you prisoner,
And so to send your body unto France.

Bed.
First shall the ocean be as dry as sand,
Before alive they send me unto France.

I'll have my body first bor'd like a sieve,
And die as Hector, 'gainst the Myrmidons^{2 note}


,
Ere France shall boast, Bedford's their prisoner.
Treacherous France! that, 'gainst the law of arms,
Hath here betray'd thine enemy to death.
But be assur'd, my blood shall be reveng'd
Upon the best lives that remain in France. Enter a Servant.
Stand back, or else thou run'st upon thy death.

Ser.
Pardon, my lord; I come to tell your honour,
That they have hir'd a Neapolitan,
Who by his oratory hath promis'd them,
Without the shedding of one drop of blood,
Into their hands safe to deliver you;
And therefore craves none but himself may enter,
And a poor swain that attends upon him.

Bed.
A Neapolitan? bid him come in. [Exit Servant.
Were he as cunning in his eloquence,
As Cicero, the famous man of Rome,
His words would be as chaff against the wind.
Sweet-tongu'd Ulysses, that made Ajax mad,
Were he, and his tongue in this speaker's head,
Alive he wins me not; then 'tis no conquest, dead. Enter Cromwell in a Neapolitan habit, and Hodge.

Crom.
Sir, are you the master of the house?

Host.
I am, sir.

Crom.
By this same token you must leave this place,

And leave none but the earl and I together,
And this my peasant here to tend on us.

Host.
With all my heart: God grant you do some good. [Exit Host. Cromwell shuts the door.

Bed.
Now, sir, what is your will with me?

Crom.
Intends your honour not to yield yourself?

Bed.
No, good-man goose, not while my sword doth last.
Is this your eloquence for to persuade me?

Crom.
My lord, my eloquence is for to save you:
I am not, as you judge, a Neapolitan,
But Cromwell, your servant, and an Englishman.

Bed.
How! Cromwell? not my farrier's son?

Crom.
The same, sir; and am come to succour you.

Hodge.

Yes 'faith, sir; and I am Hodge, your poor smith: many a time and oft have I shod your dapple-grey^{3 note}.

Bed.
And what avails it me that thou art here?

Crom.
It may avail, if you'll be rul'd by me.
My lord, you know, the men of Mantua
And these Bononians are at deadly strife;
And they, my lord^{4 note}, both love and honour you.
Could you but get out of the Mantua port^{5 note}

Bed.
Tut, man, thou talk'st of things impossible;
Dost thou not see, that we are round beset?

How then is't possible we should escape?

Crom.
By force we cannot, but by policy.
Put on the apparel here that Hodge doth wear,
And give him yours: The states, they know you not^{6 note}

Bed.
O, wond'rous good.—But wilt thou venture, Hodge?

Hode.
Will I?

  O noble lord,
  I do accord,
In any thing I can:
  And do agree,
  To set thee free,
Do Fortune what she can.

Bed.
Come then, let us change our apparel straight.

Crom.
Go, Hodge; make haste, lest they should chance to call.

Hodge.
I warrant you I'll fit him with a suit. [Exeunt Bedford and Hodge.

Crom.
Heavens grant this policy doth take success,
And that the earl may safely scape away!
And yet it grieves me for this simple wretch,
For fear lest they should offer him violence:
But of two evils 'tis best to shun the greatest;
And better is it that he live in thrall,
Than such a noble earl as he should fall.
Their stubborn hearts, it may be, will relent,
Since he is gone, to whom their hate is bent. Re-enter Bedford and Hodge.
My lord, have you dispatch'd?

Bed.
How dost thou like us, Cromwell? is it well?

Crom.

O, my good lord, excellent. Hodge, how dost feel thyself?

Hodge.

How do I feel myself? why, as a nobleman should do. O how I feel honour come creeping on! My nobility is wonderful melancholy^{7 note}

Bed.

Yes, Hodge: now go sit down in the study, and take state upon thee.

Hodge.

I warrant you, my lord; let me alone to take state upon me: But hark, my lord, do you feel nothing bite about you?

Bed.

No, trust me, Hodge.

Hodge.

Ay, they know they want their old pasture. 'Tis a strange thing of this vermin, they dare not meddle with nobility.

Crom.
Go take thy place, Hodge; I will call them in.
Now all is done:—Enter an if you please. Enter the Governour and other States and Citizens of Bononia, and Officers with halberts.

Gov.
What, have you won him? will he yield himself?

Crom.
I have, an't please you; and the quiet earl
Doth yield himself to be dispos'd by you.

Gov.
Give him the money that we promis'd him;
So let him go, whither it please himself.

Crom.
My business, sir, lies unto Mantua;
Please you to give me a safe conduct thither.

Gov.
Go, and conduct him to the Mantua port,
And see him safe deliver'd presently. [Exeunt Cromwell, Bedford, and an Officer.
Go draw the curtains, let us see the earl^{8 note}

O, he is writing; stand apart a while.

Hodge. [reads.]

Fellow William, I am not as I have been; I went from you a smith, I write to you as a lord. I am at this present writing, among the Polonian sausages^{9 note}

^note, they being famous for this kind of viand,—which in vulgar language is at this day called a Polony. In the quarto the word is spelled, in one place, sasigis, in another casiges. Malone.

I suppose he means cossacks, or as it was then written, cossaques. Percy.

From a subsequent line it appears that a word of three syllables was intended. Malone.

Gov.
Sure these are the names of English noblemen,
Some of his special friends, to whom he writes:— [Hodge sounds a note.
But stay, he doth address himself to sing. [Hodge sings a song.
My lord, I am glad you are so frolick and so blithe:
Believe me, noble lord, if you knew all,
You'd change your merry vein to sudden sorrow.

Hodge.
I change my merry vein? no, thou Bononian, no;
I am a lord, and therefore let me go.
I do defy thee and thy sausages;
Therefore stand off, and come not near my honour.

Gov.
My lord, this jesting cannot serve your turn.

Hodge.
Dost think, thou black Bononian beast,
That I do flout, do gibe, or jest?

No, no, thou beer pot, know that I,
A noble earl, a lord par-dy— [A trumpet sounds.

Gov.
What means this trumpet's sound? Enter a Messenger.

Cit.
One is come from the states of Mantua.

Gov.
What, would you with us? speak thou man of Mantua.

Mes.
Men of Bononia, this my message is;
To let you know, the noble earl of Bedford
Is safe within the town of Mantua,
And wills you send the peasant that you have,
Who hath deceiv'd your expectation:
Or else the states of Mantua have vow'd,
They will recall the truce that they have made;
And not a man shall stir from forth your town,
That shall return, unless you send him back.

Gov.
O this misfortune, how it mads my heart!
The Neapolitan hath beguil'd us all.
Hence with this fool. What shall we do with him,
The earl being gone? A plague upon it all!

Hodge.

No, I'll assure you, I am no earl, but a smith, sir, one Hodge, a smith at Putney, sir; one that hath gulled you, that hath bored you, sir^{1 note}
.

Gov.
Away with him; take hence the fool you came for.

Hodge.
Ay, sir, and I'll leave the greater fool with you.

Mes.
Farewel, Bononians. Come, friend, along with me.

Hodge.
My friend, afore; my lordship will follow thee. [Exeunt Hodge and Messenger.

Gov.
Well, Mantua, since by thee the earl is lost,
Within few days I hope to see thee crost. [Exeunt Governour, States, Attendants, &c.

Enter Chorus.

Cho.
Thus far you see how Cromwell's fortune pass'd.
The earl of Bedford, being safe in Mantua,
Desires Cromwell's company into France,
To make requital for his courtesy;
But Cromwell doth deny the earl his suit,
And tells him that those parts he meant to see,
He had not yet set footing on the land^{2 note}
;
And so directly takes his way to Spain;
The earl to France^{3 note}

SCENE III. London. A room in sir Christopher Hales's house. Musick plays; then a banquet is brought in. Enter sir Christopher Hales, Cromwell, and two Servants.

Hales.
Come, sirs, be careful of your master's credit;
And as our bounty now exceeds the figure
Of common entertainment, so do you,
With looks as free as is your master's soul,
Give formal welcome to the thronged tables,
That shall receive the cardinal's followers,
And the attendants of the great lord chancellor.
But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee:
Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,
And by how much thy spirit's rank'd 'bove these,
In rules of art, by so much it shines brighter
By travel, whose observance pleads his merit,
In a most learn'd, yet unaffecting spirit.
Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard
'Bout all my house; and what this ruder flesh^{5 note},
Through ignorance, or wine, do miscreate,
Salve thou with courtesy. If welcome want,
Full bowls and ample banquets will seem scant^{6 note}



.

Crom.
Sir, as to whatsoever lies in me,
Assure you, I will shew my utmost duty.

Hales.
About it then; the lords will straight be here. [Exit Cromwell.
Cromwell, thou hast those parts would rather suit
The service of the state than of my house:
I look upon thee with a loving eye,
That one day will prefer thy destiny. Enter a Servant.

Ser.
Sir, the lords be at hand.

Hales.
They are welcome: bid Cromwell straight attend us,
And look you all things be in perfect readiness. [Exit Servant. The musick plays. Enter cardinal Wolsey, sir Thomas More, Gardiner, Cromwell, and other attendants.

Wol.
O, sir Christopher,
You are too liberal: What! a banquet too?

Hales.
My lords, if words could show the ample welcome
That my free heart affords you, I could then
Become a prater; but I now must deal
Like a feast-politician with your lordships;
Defer your welcome till the banquet end,
That it may then salve our defect of fare:
Yet welcome now, and all that tend on you.

Wol.
Our thanks to the kind Master of the rolls.
Come and sit down; sit down sir Thomas More.
'Tis strange, how that we and the Spaniard differ;
Their dinner is our banquet after dinner,9Q1360
And they are men of active disposition.
This I gather, that, by their sparing meat,
Their bodies are more fitter for the wars;
And if that famine chance to pinch their maws,
Being us'd to fast, it breeds in them less pain.

Hales.
Fill me some wine; I'll answer cardinal Wolsey.

My lord, we English are of more freer souls,
Than hunger-starv'd and ill-complexion'd Spaniards.
They that are rich in Spain, spare belly-food,
To deck their backs with an Italian hood,
And silks of Seville; and the poorest snake^{7 note}

More.
Indeed it is a plague unto their nation,
Who stagger after* ^note in blind imitation.

Hales.
My lords, with welcome, I present your lordships
A solemn health.

More.
I love healths well; but when as healths do bring
Pain to the head, and body's surfeiting,
Then cease I healths:

Nay spill not friend; for though the drops be small,
Yet have they force to force men to the wall.

Wol.
Sir Christopher, is that your man?

Hales.
An't like
Your grace, he is a scholar, and a linguist;
One that hath travelled through many parts
Of Christendom, my lord.

Wol.
My friend, come nearer: have you been a traveller?

Crom.
My lord,
I have added to my knowledge, the Low Countries,
With France, Spain, Germany, and Italy;
And though small gain of profit I did find,
Yet it did please my eye, content my mind.

Wol.
What do you think then of the several states
And princes' courts as you have travelled?

Crom.
My lord, no court with England may compare,
Neither for state, nor civil government.
Lust dwells in France, in Italy, and Spain,
From the poor peasant, to the prince's train.
In Germany and Holland, riot serves;
And he that most can drink, most he deserves.
England I praise not for I here was born^{1 note}
,
But that she laughs the others unto scorn.

Wol.
My lord, there dwells within that spirit more
Than can be discern'd by the outward eye:—
Sir Christopher, will you part with your man?

Hales.
I have sought to proffer him unto your lordship;
And now I see he hath preferr'd himself.

Wol.
What is thy name?

Crom.
Cromwell, my lord.

Wol.
Then, Cromwell, here we make thee solicitor

Of our causes, and nearest, next ourself:
Gardiner, give you kind welcome to the man. [Gardiner embraces him.

More.
My lord cardinal, you are a royal winner* ^note
,
Have got a man, besides your bounteous dinner.
Well, my good knight, pray, that we come no more;
If we come often, thou may'st shut thy door.

Wol.
Sir Christopher, hadst thou given me half thy lands,
Thou could'st not have pleas'd me so much as with
This man of thine. My infant thoughts do spell,
Shortly his fortune shall be lifted higher;
True industry doth kindle honour's fire:
And so, kind master of the rolls, farewel.

Hales.
Cromwell, farewel.

Crom.
Cromwell takes his leave of you,
That ne'er will leave to love and honour you^{2 note}
. [Exeunt. The musick plays as they go out. ACT IV. Enter Chorus.

Cho.
Now Cromwell's highest fortunes do begin.
Wolsey, that lov'd him as he did his life,
Committed all his treasure to his hands,
Wolsey is dead; and Gardiner, his man,
Is now created bishop of Winchester.
Pardon if we omit all Wolsey's life,

Because our play depends on Cromwell's death.
Now sit, and see his highest state of all,
His height of rising, and his sudden fall.
Pardon the errors are already past,
And live in hope the best doth come at last.
My hope upon your favour doth depend,
And looks to have your liking ere the end. [Exit. SCENE I. The same. A publick walk. Enter Gardiner bishop of Winchester, the dukes of Norfolk and of Suffolk, sir Thomas More, sir Christopher Hales, and Cromwell.

Nor.
Master Cromwell, since cardinal Wolsey's death,
His majesty is given to understand
There's certain bills and writings in your hand,
That much concern the state of England.
My lord of Winchester, is it not so?

Gar.
My lord of Norfolk, we two were whilom fellows:
And master Cromwell, though our master's love
Did bind us, while his love was to the king,
It is no boot now to deny those things,
Which may be prejudicial to the state:
And though that God hath rais'd my fortune higher
Than any way I look'd for, or deserv'd,
Yet may my life no longer with me dwell,
Than I prove true unto my sovereign!
What say you, master Cromwell? have you those
Writings, ay, or no?

Crom.
Here are the writings:
And on my knees I give them up unto
The worthy dukes of Suffolk, and of Norfolk.

He was my master, and each virtuous part
That liv'd in him, I tender'd with my heart;
But what his head complotted 'gainst the state,
My country's love commands me that to hate.
His sudden death I grieve for, not his fall^{3 note}

Suf.
Cromwell, the king shall hear of this thy duty;
Who, I assure myself, will well reward thee.
My lord, let's go unto his majesty,
And show those writings which he longs to see. [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. Enter Bedford hastily.

Bed.
How now, who is this? Cromwell? By my soul,
Welcome to England: thou once didst save my life;
Didst not, Cromwell?

Crom.
If I did so, 'tis greater glory for me
That you remember it, than for myself
Vainly to report it.

Bed.
Well, Cromwell, now's the time,
I shall commend thee to my sovereign.
Cheer up thyself, for I will raise thy state;
A Russel yet was never found ingrate. [Exit.

Hales.
O how uncertain is the wheel of state* ^note!
Who lately greater than the cardinal,
For fear and love? and now who lower lies?
Gay honours are but Fortune's flatteries;

And whom this day pride and ambition swells,
To-morrow envy and ambition quells.

More.
Who sees the cob-web tangle the poor fly,
May boldly say, the wretch's death is nigh.

Gard.
I knew his state and proud ambition
Were too too violent to last o'er-long.

Hales.
Who soars too near the sun with golden wings,
Melts them; to ruin his own fortune brings. Enter the duke of Suffolk.

Suf.
Cromwell, kneel down. In king Henry's name arise
Sir Thomas Cromwell; thus begins thy fame. Enter the duke of Norfolk.

Nor.
Cromwell, the gracious majesty of England,
For the good liking he conceives of thee,
Makes thee the master of the jewel-house,
Chief secretary to himself, and withal
Creates thee one of his highness' privy-council. Enter the earl of Bedford.

Bed.
Where is sir Thomas Cromwell? is he knighted?

Suf.
He is, my lord.

Bed.
Then, to add honour to
His name, the king creates him the lord keeper
Of his privy seal^{4 note}

, and master of the rolls,

Which you, sir Christopher, do now enjoy^{5 note}:
The king determines higher place for you.

Crom.
My lords,
These honours are too high for my desert.

More.
O content thee, man; who would not choose it?
Yet thou art wise in seeming to refuse it.

Gard.
Here's honours, titles and promotions:
I fear this climbing will have sudden fall.

Nor.
Then come, my lords; let's all together bring
This new-made counsellor to England's king. [Exeunt all but Gardiner.

Gard.
But Gardiner means his glory shall be dimm'd.
Shall Cromwell live a greater man than I?
My envy with his honour now is bred:
I hope to shorten Cromwell by the head. [Exit. SCENE II. London. A street before Cromwell's house. Enter Frescobald.

Fres.
O Frescobald, what shall become of thee?
Where shalt thou go, or which way shalt thou turn?
Fortune, that turns her too unconstant wheel,
Hath turn'd thy wealth and riches in the sea.
All parts abroad wherever I have been

Grow weary of me, and deny me succour.
My debtors, they that should relieve my want,
Forswear my money^{6 note}, say they owe me none;
They know my state too mean to bear out law:
And here in London, where I oft have been,
And have done good to many a wretched man,
I am now most wretched here, despis'd myself.
In vain it is more of their hearts to try;
Be patient therefore, lay thee down and die. [Lies down. Enter Seely and Joan.

Seely.

Come Joan, come; let's see what he'll do for us now. I wis we have done for him^{7 note}, when many a time and often he might have gone a-hungry to bed.

Joan.

Alas man, now he is made a lord, he'll never look upon us; he'll fulfill the old proverb, Set beggars a horseback and they'll ride—A well-a-day for my cow! such as he hath made us come behind hand; we had never pawn'd our cow else to pay our rent.

Seely.

Well Joan, he'll come this way; and by God's dickers I'll tell him roundly of it, an if he were ten lords: 'a shall know that I had not my cheese and my bacon for nothing.

Joan.

Do you remember, husband, how he would mouch up my cheese-cakes^{8 note}

? He hath forgot this now; but now we'll remember him^{9 note}
.

Seely.

Ay, we shall have now three flaps with a fox-tail: but i'faith I'll jibber a joint^{1 note}

Hodge.

Come; away with these beggars here. Rise up, sirrah; come out, good people; run afore there ho.

Seely.

Ay, we are kick'd away, now we come for our own; the time hath been, he would ha' look'd more friendly upon us: And you, Hodge, we know you well enough, though you are so fine.

Crom.
Come hither, sirrah:—Stay, what men are these?

My honest host of Hounslow, and his wife?
I owe thee money, father, do I not?

Seely.

Ay, by the body of me, dost thou. Would thou would'st pay me: good four pound it is; I hav't o' the post at home^{2 note}

.

Crom.
I know 'tis true. Sirrah, give him ten angels:—
And look your wife and you do stay to dinner^{3 note};
And while you live, I freely give to you
Four pound a year, for the four pound I ought you.

Seely.

Art not chang'd? Art old Tom still? Now God bless thee, good lord Tom. Home Joan, home; I'll dine with my lord Tom to day, and thou shalt come next week. Fetch my cow; home Joan, home.

Joan.

Now God bless thee, my good lord Tom: I'll fetch my cow presently.

Crom.

Sirrah, go to yon stranger; tell him, I Desire him stay to dinner: I must speak With him.

Gard.

My lord of Norfolk, see you this Same bubble? that same puff? but mark the end, My lord; mark the end.

Nor.
I promise you, I like not something he hath done:
But let that pass; the king doth love him well.

Crom.
Good morrow to my lord of Winchester: I know
You bear me hard about the abbey lands.

Gard.
Have I not reason, when religion's wrong'd?
You had no colour for what you have done.

Crom.
Yes, the abolishing of antichrist,
And of his popish order from our realm.
I am no enemy to religion;
But what is done, it is for England's good.
What did they serve for, but to feed a sort
Of lazy abbots and of full-fed fryars^{4 note}
?
They neither plow nor sow, and yet they reap
The fat of all the land, and suck the poor.
Look, what was theirs is in king Henry's hands;
His wealth before lay in the abbey lands.

Gard.
Indeed these things you have alledg'd, my lord;
When, God doth know, the infant yet unborn
Will curse the time the abbies were pull'd down.
I pray now where is hospitality?
Where now may poor distressed people go,
For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
When weary travel doth oppress their limbs?
And where religious men should take them in,
Shall now be kept back with a mastiff dog;
And thousand thousand—

Nor.
O my lord, no more:

Things past redress 'tis bootless to complain^{5 note}

.

Crom.
What, shall we to the convocation-house?

Nor.
We'll follow you, my lord; pray lead the way. Enter old Cromwell, in the dress of a farmer.

Old Crom.

How! one Cromwell made lord keeper, since I left Putney, and dwelt in Yorkshire? I never heard better news: I'll see that Cromwell, or it shall go hard.

Crom.
My aged father! State then set aside,
Father, upon my knee I crave your blessing.
One of my servants, go, and have him in;
At better leisure will we talk with him.

Old Crom.
Now if I die, how happy were the day!
To see this comfort, rains forth showers of joy. [Exeunt old Cromwell and Servant.

Nor.
This duty in him shows a kind of grace. [Aside.

Crom.
Go on before, for time draws on apace. [Exeunt all but Frescobald.

Fres.
I wonder what this lord would have with me,
His man so strictly gave me charge to stay:
I never did offend him to my knowledge.
Well, good or bad, I mean to bide it all;
Worse than I am, now never can befall. Enter Banister and his wife.

Ban.
Come, wife,
I take it to be almost dinner time;
For master Newton, and master Crosby sent
To me last night, they would come dine with me,
And take their bond in. I pray thee, hie thee home,
And see that all things be in readiness.

Mrs. Ban.
They shall be welcome, husband; I'll go before:
But is not that man master Frescobald? [She runs and embraces him.

Ban.
O heavens! it is kind master Frescobald:
Say, sir, what hap hath brought you to this pass?

Fres.
The same that brought you to your misery.

Ban.
Why would you not acquaint me with your state?
Is Banister your poor friend then forgot,
Whose goods, whose love, whose life and all is yours?

Fres.
I thought your usage would be as the rest,
That had more kindness at my hands than you,
Yet look'd askance when as they saw me poor.

Mrs. Ban.
If Banister would bear so base a heart,
I ne'er would look my husband in the face,
But hate him as I would a cockatrice.

Ban.
And well thou might'st, should Banister deal so.
Since that I saw you, sir, my state is mended;
And for the thousand pound I owe to you,
I have it ready for you, sir, at home:
And though I grieve your fortune is so bad,
Yet that my hap's to help you, makes me glad.
And now, sir, will it please you walk with me?

Fres.
Not yet I cannot, for the lord chancellor
Hath here commanded me to wait on him:
For what I know not; pray God it be for good.

Ban.
Never make doubt of that; I'll warrant you,
He is as kind a noble gentleman,
As ever did possess the place he hath.

Mrs. Ban.
Sir, my brother is his steward: if you please,
We'll go along and bear you company;
I know we shall not want for welcome there.

Fres.
With all my heart: but what's become of Bagot?

Ban.
He is hang'd for buying jewels of the king's.

Fres.
A just reward for one so impious.
The time draws on: sir, will you go along?

Ban.
I'll follow you, kind master Frescobald. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. Another street. Enter Newton and Crosby.

New.
Now, master Crosby, I see you have a care
To keep your word, in payment of your money.

Cros.
By my faith I have reason on a bond.
Three thousand pound is far too much to forfeit;
And yet I doubt not master Banister.

New.
By my faith, sir, your sum is more than mine;
And yet I am not much behind you too,
Considering that to-day I paid at court.

Cros.
Mass, and well remember'd: What is the reason
Lord Cromwell's men wear such long skirts upon
Their coats? they reach down to their very hams.

New.
I will resolve you, sir; and thus it is:
The bishop of Winchester, that loves not Cromwell,
(As great men are envied as well as less)
A while ago there was a jar between them;
And it was brought to my lord Cromwell's ear
That bishop Gardiner would sit on his skirts:
Upon which word he made his men long blue coats,
And in the court wore one of them himself;
And meeting with the bishop, quoth he, my lord,
Here's skirts enough now for your grace to sit on;

Which vex'd the bishop to the very heart.
This is the reason why they wear long coats^{6 note}

Cros.
'Tis always seen, and mark it for a rule,
That one great man will envy still another;
But 'tis a thing that nothing concerns me:—
What, shall we now to master Banister's?

New.
Ay, come, we'll pay him royally for our dinner. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A room in Cromwell's house. Enter the Usher, and the Sewer^{7 note}. Several servants cross the stage with dishes in their hands.

Ush.
Uncover there, gentlemen.

Enter Cromwell, Bedford, Suffolk, old Cromwell, Frescobald, Seely, and Attendants.

Crom.
My noble lords of Suffolk and of Bedford,
Your honours are welcome to poor Cromwell's house.
Where is my father? nay, be cover'd, father;
Although that duty to these noblemen
Doth challenge it, yet I'll make bold with them.
Your head doth bear the calendar of care.
What! Cromwell cover'd, and his father bare?
It must not be.—Now, sir, to you: is not
Your name Frescobald, and a Florentine?

Fres.
My name was Frescobald, till cruel fate
Did rob me of my name, and of my state.

Crom.
What fortune brought you to this country now?

Fres.
All other parts have left me succourless,
Save only this. Because of debts I have,
I hope to gain for to relieve my want.

Crom.
Did you not once upon your Florence bridge
Help a distress'd man, robb'd by the banditti?
His name was Cromwell.

Fres.
I ne'er made my brain
A calendar of any good I did:
I always lov'd this nation with my heart.

Crom.
I am that Cromwell that you there reliev'd^{8 note}.
Sixteen ducats you gave me for to cloath me,

Sixteen to bear my charges by the way,
And sixteen more I had for my horse-hire.
There be those several sums justly return'd:
Yet it injustice were, that serving at
My need, to repay thee without interest^{9 note}