MORE.
Who sees the Cob-web intangle the poor Fly,
May boldly say the wretches death is nigh.
GARDINER.
I knew his state and proud ambition
Was too too violent to last over-long.
HALES.
Who soars too near the sun with golden wings,
Melts them, to ruin his own fortune brings.
[Enter the Duke of Suffolk.]
SUFFOLK.
Cromwell, kneel down in King Henry's name.—
Arise sir Thomas Cromwell; thus begins thy fame.
[Enter the Duke of Norfolk.]
NORFOLK.
Cromwell, the majesty of England,
For the good liking he conceives of thee,
Makes thee master of the jewel house,
Chief Secretary to himself, and with all,
Creates thee one of his highness' privy Counsel.
[Enter the Earl of Bedford.]
BEDFORD.
Where is sir Thomas Cromwell? is he knighted?
SUFFOLK.
He is, my Lord.