GARDINER.
My Lord of Norfolk, see you this same bubble,
That same puff? but mark the end, my Lord,
Mark the end.
NORFOLK.
I promise you, I like not something he hath done,
But let that pass; the King doth love him well.
CROMWELL.
God morrow to my Lord of Winchester.
I know you bear me hard about the Abbey lands.
GARDINER.
Have I not reason, when religion is wronged?
You had no colour for what you have done.
CROMWELL.
Yes; the abolishing of Antichrist,
And of this Popish order from our Realm.
I am no enemy to religion,
But what is done, it is for England's good.
What did they serve for but to feed a sort
Of lazy Abbots and of full fed Friars?
They neither plow, nor sow, and yet they reap
The fat of all the Land, and suck the poor:
Look, what was theirs, is in King Henry's hands;
His wealth before lay in the Abbey lands.
GARDINER.
Indeed these things you have alleged, my Lord,
When God doth know the infant yet unborn
Will curse the time the Abbeys were pulled down.
I pray, now where is hospitality?
Where now may poor distressed people go,
For to relieve their need, or rest their bones,
When weary travel doth oppress their limbs?
And where religious men should take them in,
Shall now be kept back with a Mastiff do,
And thousand thousand—
NORFOLK.
O, my Lord, no more: things past redress
Tis bootless to complain.
CROMWELL.
What, shall we to the Convocation house?
NORFOLK.
We'll follow you, my Lord; pray, lead the way.
[Enter Old Cromwell like a Farmer.]