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.

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