The Life and Death of the Lord Cromwell

by Shakespeare

SUFFOLK.
My Lord, your matter shall be tried;
Mean time, with patience content your self.

CROMWELL.
Perforce I must with patience be content.
O dear friend Bedford, doest thou stand so near?
Cromwell rejoiceth one friend sheds a tear.
And whether ist? which way must Cromwell now?

GARDINER.
My Lord, you must unto the tower. Lieutenant,
Take him to your charge.

CROMWELL.
Well, where you please; yet before I part,
Let me confer a little with my men.

GARDINER.
As you go by water, so you shall.

CROMWELL.
I have some business present to impart.

NORFOLK.
You may not stay. Lieutenant, take your charge.

CROMWELL.
Well, well, my Lord, you second Gardiner's text.
Norfolk, farewell; thy turn will be the next.

[Exit Cromwell and the Lieutenant.]

GARDINER.
His guilty conscience makes him rave, my Lord.