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 Lord Chancellor.
But all my care, Cromwell, depends on thee.
Thou art a man differing from vulgar form,
And by how much thy spirit is ranked bove these
In rules of Art, by so much it shines brighter
By travel whose observance pleads his merit,
In a most learned, yet unaffecting spirit,
Good Cromwell, cast an eye of fair regard
Bout all my house, and what this ruder flesh,
Through ignorance, or wine, do miscreate,
Salve thou with courtesy: if welcome want,
Full bowls and ample banquets will seem scant.
CROMWELL.
Sir, what soever lies in me,
Assure you, I will shew my utmost duty.
[Exit Cromwell.]
HALES.
About it, then; the Lords will straight be here.—
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 Messenger.]
MESSENGER.
Sir, the Lords be at hand.
HALES.
They are welcome; bid Cromwell straight attend us,
And look you all things be in perfect readiness.
[The Music plays. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas
More and Gardiner.]
WOLSEY.
O, sir Christopher,
You are too liberal. What, a banket to?
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 banket end,
That it may then salve our defect of fair:
Yet Welcome now and all that tend on you.