Wol.-Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride 1 Thomas Wolsey, son of a well to-do citizen of Ipswich, was born in 1471, and rose by his genius and industry to be Lord Chancellor, under Henry VIII.,-Cardinal, and Legate. Loyal to the King, but unprincipled, he lost favour at last, after a career of unequalled glory, by his duplicity in the matter of Queen Catherine's divorce; was stripped of most of his wealth, and all his political honours, and died in disgrace, in 1530, aged 59. 2 Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, of obscure origin, but of capacious political intellect, entered Wolsey's service after a rough and adventurous youth. He was about 40 at the time of Wolsey's fall, and passed forthwith into Henry VIII's service, in which he rose to be all-powerful, both at home and abroad His ecclesiastical reforms and his haughty bearing towards the great, however, created many enemies, who at last succeeded in bringing him to the block on various charges. He was beheaded in 1540, at the age of about 50. Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! Enter Cromwell, and stands amazed. Why, how now, Cromwell! Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder Nay, an you weep, I am fall'n indeed. 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: I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now 3 Lucifer, the Light-bringer, a name for the Morning Star, and then Some little memory of me will stir him I know his noble nature-not to let Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell, Crom. O my Lord, Must I, then, leave you? Must I needs forego Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, In all Wol.-Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate 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, prithee1 lead me in; There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny, 'tis the King's: My robe, I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Wotton was born in Kent, and was secretary to the Earl of Kent, but foreseeing his fall, left England. He returned on the accession of James I., and was sent as Ambassador to Venice. In his later years he took Deacon's Orders, and was Provost of Eton. THE HAPPY LIFE. Ilow happy is he born and taught, Whose passions not his masters are, Of public fame or private breath; ' prithee, I pray thee. Who envies none that chance doth raise, . How deepest wounds are given by praise: 1 Who hath his life from rumours freed, This man is freed from servile2 bands Ben Jonson was well-born, but his mother, being left a widow, married a bricklayer. He was sent by a friend to Cambridge, but had to return and take to his father-in-law's trade. Disliking this, he joined the army, then fighting in Flanders, and finally came back to London and took to literature. His dramas are marked by a severe and strong imagination and high dramatic power. HYMN TO THE MOON. QUEEN and huntress,1 chaste and fair, To ruin him would not greatly en- 2 Slavish. 1 huntress. The moon, as Diana, was pictured by the ancient poets as a huntress. |