The model of our chaste loves, his young The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!- Is, that his noble grace would have some pity A right good husband, let him be a noble; The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest, SCENE I. A GALLERY IN THE PALACE. Remember [me Or let me lose the fashion of a man! For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell, Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page Gar. These should be hours for necessities, Lov. Came you from the king, my lord? Lov. I must to him, too, Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two Beside that of the jewel house, he's made master Is the king's hand, and tongue; and who dare Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. matter? It seems you are in haste: an if there be (As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have Lor. My lord, I love you; And durst commend a secret to your ear in labour, The queen's They say, in great extremity; and fear'd, Gar. The fruit, she goes with, I pray for heartily; that it may find Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Lov. Methinks, I could [Thomas, Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says, Gar. But, sir, sir, Hear me, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas, There are, that dare; and I myself have ventur'd That does infect the land: with which they moved, K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night; Nor shall not, when my fancy's on the play.- K. Hen. What say'st thou ? ha? [ness To pray for her? what, is she crying out? Almost each pang a death. K. Hen. Alas, good lady! Suff. God quit her safely of her burden, and K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles, Suft. I wish your highness A quiet night, and my good mistress will K. Hen. Charles, good night.-[exit Suffolk. Well, sir, what follows? Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archAs you commanded me. K. Hen. Ha! Canterbury? Den. Ay, my good lord. K. Hen. 'Tis true: where is he, Denny [bishop, [exit Denny. Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake: I am happily come hither. Re-enter Denny with Cranmer. K. Hen. Avoid the gallery. Ha-I have said.-Begone. [aside. It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Cran. I humbly thank your highness; K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up: Cran. Most dread liege, The good I stand on is my truth and honesty; If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, [you Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, K. Hen. Know you not how Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world? Your enemies Are many and not small; their practices [Lovell seems to stay. You take a precipice for no leap of danger, [exeunt Lovell and Denny. Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he thus ? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire Wherefore I sent for you? [to know My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. I have news to tell you: come, come, give me Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, Grievous complaints of you; which, being con sider'd Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall Cran. God, and your majesty, K. Hen. Be of good cheer; They shall no more prevail than we give way to. He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person Under their blessed wings! K. Hen. Now, by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd Lady. Ay, ay, my liege; And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven I am glad, [exit Butts. Cran. [aside.] 'Tis Butts, The king's physician; as he past along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! [tain, Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For cerThis is of purpose laid, by some that hate me, (God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice,) [make me To quench mine honour: they would shame to Wait else at door; a fellow counsellor, [sures Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleaMust be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter, at a window above, the King and Butts. Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight, K. Hen. What's that, Butts? [day. Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it? Butts. There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; K. Hen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed : I had They had parted so much honesty among then, THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER. Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell. The Chancellor places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell, at the lower end, as Secretary. Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council? Crom. Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? Crom. Yes. D. Keep. My lord archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleaChan. Let him come in. D. Keep. Your grace may enter now. [sures. Cranmer approaches the council-table. Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry To sit here at this present, and behold That chair stand empty; but we all are men, In our own natures frail; and capable Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty, And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, [us, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chaplains, (For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions, Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those, that tame wild horses Pace them not in their hands to make them gen tle; [spur them, But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our easiness, and childish pity To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, Farewell, all physic: and what follows then? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint Of the whole state: as of late days, our neighThe upper Germany, can dearly witness, [bours, Yet freshly pitied in our memories. Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the proBoth of my life and office, I have labour'd, [gress And with no little study, that my teaching, And the strong course of my authority, Might go one way, and safely; and the end Was ever, to do well: nor is there living (I speak it with a single heart, my lords,) A man that more detests, more stirs against, Both in his private conscience, and his place, Defacers of a public peace, than I do. Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, Suff. Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor, Gar. My lord, because we have business of [you, Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank You are always my good friend; if your will pass, I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, You are so merciful: I see your end, 'Tis my undoing: love, and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition; Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, I make as little doubt, as you do conscience, In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, But reverence to your calling makes me modest. Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That's the plain truth; your painted gloss dis covers, To men that understand you, words and weakness. Gar. Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy: you may, worst Crom. Why, my lord? Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer Gar. Not sound, I say. Crom. 'Would you were half so honest? Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Gar. I shall remember this bold language. Crom. Do. Remember your bold life too. Chan. This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords. Would you expect? You are strangely trouble. some. Let some o'the guard be ready there. Enter Guard. Cran For me? Must I go like a traitor thither? And see him safe in the Tower. I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lorde; [all, Suff. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves. Nor. Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Cham. 'Tis now too certain ; How much more is his life in value with him? Would I were fairly out on't. Crom. My mind gave me, In seeking tales, and informations, Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye. bound to heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; His royal self in judgment comes to hear Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not me see the proudest Now let I had thought, I had had men of some understand- Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Chan. Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Am, for his love and service, so to him, Make me no more ado, but all embrace him; I have a suit, which you must not deny me; Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may In such an honour; how may I deserve it, Two noble partners with you; the old duchess And lady marquis Dorset; will these please you? Gar. With a true heart, Cran. And let heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. The common voice, I see is verified [bury Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter- SCENE III. THE PALACE YARD. [ex. Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter, and his Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals; do you take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. [Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue is this a place to roar in ?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossi ble Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in? Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head, to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her. [Within.] Do you hear, master porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me: he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom-staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win the work: the devil was among them, I think, surely. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in limbo patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too, from all parts are they coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows. (Unless we sweep them from the door with There's a trim rabble let in are all these cannons,) To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, |