Crom.  I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. 
Wol.  I hope I have:  I am 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’ favor, 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 orphans’ tears wept on ’em! 
      What more? 
Crom.  That Cranmer is return’d with welcome,
      Install’d 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 pull’d 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 mine honors,
      Or gild again the noble troops that waited
      Upon my smiles.  Go! get thee from me!  Cromwell;
      I am a poor, fall’n man, unworthy now
      To be thy lord and master:  seek the king;
      That sun, I pray, may never set!  I have told him
      What and how true thou art:  he will advance thee;
      Some little memory of me will stir him—­
      I know his noble nature—­not to let
      Thy hopeful service perish, too:  good Cromwell,
      Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
      For thine own future safety. 
Crom.  O my lord,
      Must I, then, leave you?  Must I needs forego
      So good, so noble, and so true a master? 
      Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
      With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
      The king shall have my service; but my prayers
      Forever and forever shall be yours. 
Wol.  Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
      In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,
      Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
      Let’s dry our eyes:  and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
      And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
      And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention
      Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee;
      Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
      And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor,
      Found thee a way,