MORE. I love health well, but when as healths do bring Pain to the head and bodies sufeiting, Then cease I healths.— Nay, spill not, friend, for though the drops be small, Yet have they force, to force men to the wall. WOLSEY. Sir Christopher, is that your man? HALES. And like your grace; he is a Scholar and A Lingest, one that hath travelled many parts Of Christendom, my Lord. WOLSEY. My friend, come nearer; have you been a traveller? CROMWELL. My Lord, I have added to my knowledge the low Countries, France, Spain, Germany, and Italy: And though small gain of profit I did find, Yet did it please my eye, content my mind. WOLSEY. What do you think of the several states And princes’ Courts as you have travelled? CROMWELL. 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 borne, But that she laugheth the others unto scorn. WOLSEY. My Lord, there dwells within that spirit More than can be discerned by outward eye. Sir Christopher, will you part with your man? HALES. I have sought to profer him to your Lordship, And now I see he hath prefered himself. WOLSEY. What is thy name? CROMWELL. Cromwell, my Lord. WOLSEY. Then, Cromwell, here we make thee Solicitor of our causes, and nearest next our self. Gardiner give you kind welcome to the man. [Gardiner embraces him.] MORE. My Lord, you are a royal Winer, Have got a man besides your bounteous dinner. Well, Knight, pray we come no more: If we come often, thou maist shut thy door. WOLSEY. Sir Christopher, hadst thou given me half thy lands, Thou couldest not have pleased 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 Rules, farewell. HALES. Cromwell, farewell. CROMWELL. Cromwell takes his leave of you, That near will leave to love and honour you. [Exit omnes. The Music plays, as they go in.] ACT IV. [Enter Chorus.] CHORUS. Now Cromwell’s highest fortunes doth begin. Wolsey, that loved 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 haight of rising and his sudden fall. Pardon the errors is all ready past, And live in hope the best doth come at last: My hope upon your favour doth depend, And look to have your liking ere the end. [Exit.] ACT IV. SCENE I. The same. A public walk. [Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, The Dukes of Norfolk, and of Suffolk, Sir Thomas More, Sir Christopher Hales, and Cromwell.]