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The model of our chaste loves, his young
daughter:-
:-

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor
petition

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And able means, we had not parted thus. [lord,
These are the whole contents:-And, good my
By that you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.

Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully;
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be a noble;
And, sure, those men are happy, that shall have
them.

The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me ;—
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,

SCENE 1. A GALLERY IN THE PALACE.

Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page
with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.
Gur. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy. It hath struck.

Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.-Good hour of night, sir
Whither so late?
[Thomas

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at
With the duke of Suffolk.
[primero

Lov. I must to him, too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell.
matter?

Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,—
'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,—
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two

The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for
Cromwell,-

Beside that of the jewel house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferiments,
With which the time will load him: The arch-
bishop

Is the king's hand, and tongue; and who dare
speak
What's the One syllable against him?
Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas,

There are, that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him; and, indeed, this day,
Sir (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence

That does infect the land: with which they moved,
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given car to our complaint (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischief
Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your
servant. [exeunt Gardiner and Page.
As Lovell is going out, enter the King, and the
Duke of Suffolk.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suff. Sir, I did never win of you before.
KHen. But, little Charles

It seems you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that
walk

(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.

Lor. My lord, I love you;

And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's
in labour,

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.

I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.— [exeunt, leading Katharine
ACT V.

Gar. The fruit, she goes with,

I pray for heartily; that it may find

Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir

[Thomas,

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says,
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserves our better wishes.

Cap. By heaven, I will;

Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord.
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd
him,

Gar. But, sir, sir,

Hear me, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman

Remember [me

For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women.- -When I am dead, good
wench,

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Suft. I wish your highness

.1

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

1-44

K. Hen. Charles, good night.-[exit Suffolk.
Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
Well, sir, what follows?...

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch

As you commanded me.

[bishop,

K. Hen. Ha! Canterbury?

Den. Ay, my good lord.

K. Hen. 'Tis true: where is he, Denny
Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.

K. Hen. Bring him to us.

[exit Denny.

Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake: I am happily come hither.

[aside.

Re-enter Denny with Cranmer. K. Hen. Avoid the gallery.

Ha-I have said. Begone. Blad
What!-
[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

ll their practices

Are many and not small;
Must bear the same proportion: and not ever
The justice and the truth o' the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: at what ease
Might corrupt, minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been done.
You are potently opposed; and with a malice)
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
[Lovell seems to stay. You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.
Cran. God, and your majesty,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap, is laid for me!

1 32

Cran. It is my duty

To attend your highness' pleasure.

K. Hen. 'Pray you, arise,

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;

I have news to tell you: come, come, give me

9

your hand.

To

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-
sider'd the

647

Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial, in those charges,
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented [us
To make your house our Tower: you a brother of

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

Cran. I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most thoroughly. to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,
There's none s stands under more calumnious
Than I myself, poor man,
[tongues,

K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted

2+8

In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up:
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard
Without indurance further.
. [you

*

Cran. Most dread liege,

The good I stand on is my truth and honesty;
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,

Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.

K. Hen. Know you not how
Your state stands i'the world,
world?
Your enemies

paliwo MA in bed dosras with the whole

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K. Hen. Be of good cheer;

They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
You do appear before them; if they shall chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you; if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us

There make before them.-Look, the good man
[mother F

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weeps!

He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest
I swear he is true-hearted; and a soul
None better in my kingdom.-Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you. [exit Cranmer.] He
has strangled

His language in his tears.

6701

Enter an old Lady.

Gent. [within.] Come back; what mean you;

Lady. I'll not come back: the tidings that I bring, [angels Will make my boldness manners.-Now, good

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
Say, ay; and of a boy.

Lady. Ay, ay, my liege;

And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her!-'tis a girl,
Promises boys, hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.

K. Hen. Lovell,

Enter Lovell.

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[called for.

D. Keep. Your grace must wait till you be Enter Doctor Butts.

Cran. So.
Butts. This is a piece of malice.

I came this way so happily: the king
Shall understand it presently.

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 cer-
This 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 plea-
Must 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?
Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a
K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it?
Butts. There, my lord:

[day.

I am glad,

[exit Butts.

The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys.

K. Hen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed : Is this the honour they do one another? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought,

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D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

And has done half an hour, to know your pleaChan. Let him come in. [sures.

D. Keep. Your grace may enter now. [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,

nefacers of a public peace, than I do.
Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers.
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suff. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be; you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
Gar. My lord, because we have business of
more moment,
[pleasure,

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness'
And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man a gain,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

[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

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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?
Gar. Receive him,

And see him safe in the Tower.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? Gar. What other

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The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?

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,
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,)

Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye.
Enter the King, frowning on them; takes his seat.
Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are WO

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bound to heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ;
Not only good and wise, but most religious:
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender!
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden com-
mendations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
They are too thin and base to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.-
Good man, [to Cranmer.] sit down.
me see the proudest

He, that dares most, but wag bis finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve,

Than but once think his place becomes thee not Surrey. May it please your grace,—

K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me.

[Ing

I had thought, I had had men of some understand-
And wisdom, of my council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that title,}
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber-door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did any commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave yo
Power, as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom: there's some of ye, I seo,
More out of malice than integrity,

Now let

Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have, while I live.

Chan. Thus far,

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice ;
I am sure, in me.

K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him;
Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.
I will say thus much for him, If a prince
May be beholden to a subject, I

Am, for his love and service, so to him,
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be friends, for shame, my lords. My lord of

Canterbury,

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Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.

[bury

The common voice, I see is verified
Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter-
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.—
Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

SCENE III. THE PALACE YARD.

[ex. Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter, and his Man.

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.

Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.

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.

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

fellows.

(Unless we sweep them from the door with There's a trim rabble let in are all these
cannons,)
Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall
have

To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:
We

e may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
Port. An't please your honour,

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,

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