Why, how now, Cromwell?
CROMWELL.
I have no power to speak, sir.
WOLSEY.
What, amazed
At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.
CROMWELL.
How does your Grace?
WOLSEY.
Why, well.
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me,
I humbly thank his Grace, and from these shoulders,
These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy: too much honour.
O, ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
CROMWELL.
I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.
WOLSEY.
I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,
To endure more miseries and greater far
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?
CROMWELL.
The heaviest and the worst
Is your displeasure with the King.
WOLSEY.
God bless him.
CROMWELL.
The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen
Lord Chancellor in your place.