King.
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.

King.
But little, Charles,
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.— Enter Lovel.
Now, Lovel, from the queen what is the news?

Lov.
I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message, who return'd her thanks,
In greatest humbleness, and begg'd your highness,
Most heartily to pray for her.

King.
What say'st thou! ha!
To pray for! what? is she crying out?

Lov.
So said her woman.

King.
Alas, good lady!

Suff.
Heav'n safely quit her of her burden,
To the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!

King.
'Tis midnight, Charles;
Pr'ythee to bed, and in thy prayers remember
Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone,
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.

Suff.
I wish your highness
A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

King.
Charles, a good night: [Exit Suffolk.
Well, sir, what follows?

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Denny.
Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
As you commanded me.

King.
Ha! Canterbury!—

Denny.
Yea, my good lord.

King.
'Tis true—where is he, Denny?

Denny.
He attends your highness' pleasure.

King.
Bring him to us. [Exit Denny. Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King.
Avoid the gallery. [Lovel seemeth to stay.
Ha!—I have said—be gone. [Exeunt Lovel and Denny.

Cran.
I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus?
'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.

King.
How now, my lord! you do desire to know
Wherefore I sent for you.

Cran.
It is my duty
T'attend your highness' pleasure.

King.
Pray you rise,
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together:
I've news to tell you. Come, give me your hand,
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 consider'd,
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented,
Till further trial,
To make your house our Tower; you, a brother of us,
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.

King.
Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted

In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand; stand up,
Pr'ythee let's walk. Now, by my holy dame, [Cranmer rises.
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 have heard you,
Without confinement, further.

Cran.
Most dread liege,
The good I stand on, is my truth and honesty:
If they shall fall, I with mine enemies
Will triumph o'er my person; Heav'n and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me.

King.
Be of good chear;
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 chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you;
The best persuasions to the contrary,
Fail not to use. If intreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us,
There make before them. Look, the good man weeps!* ^note
He's honest, on mine honour.
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'as strangled all his language, in his tears. Enter an old Lady.

Lovel. [within]
Come back; what mean you?

Lady.
I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring,
Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels
Fly o'er thy royal head.

King.
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; Angels of Heav'n,
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.

King.
Lovel. Enter Lovel.

Lov.
Sir.

King.
Give her an hundred marks; I'll to the queen. [Exit King.

Lady.
An hundred marks! by this light I'll ha' more.
An ordinary groom is for such a payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl was like him? I'll
Have more, or else unsay't: now, while 'tis hot,
I'll put it to the issue. [Exit Lady. Enter Cranmer.

Cran.
I hope I'm not too late, and yet the gentleman,
That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast? what means this? hoa?
Who waits there? sure you know me? Enter Keeper.

Keep.
Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you.

Cran.
Why?

Keep.
Your grace must wait, 'till you be call'd for. Enter Doctor Butts.

Cran.
So.

Butts.
This is a piece of malice; I am glad
I came this way so happily. The king
Shall understand it, presently. [Exit Butts.

Cran.
'Tis Butts,
The king's physician; as he past along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
Pray Heav'n he found not my disgrace! for certain,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me;

They would shame to make me
Wait else at door: a fellow counsellor,
'Mong boys and grooms and lackeys! but their pleasures
Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter the King and Butts, at a Window above.

Butts.
I'll shew your grace the strangest sight—

King.
What's that, Butts?

Butts.
I think your highness saw, this many a day.

King.
Body o' me: where is it?

Butts.
There, my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his state at door 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and foot-boys!

King.
Ha! 'tis he, indeed.
Is this the honour they do one another?
'Tis well there's one above 'em yet.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery;
Let 'em alone,
We shall hear more, anon.— [Exeunt. A council Table discovered, with Chairs and Stools; Lord Chancellor, at the upper end of the Table, on the Left Hand; a Seat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury; Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, and Gardiner, seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell, at the lower end, as Secretary.

Chan.
Speak to the business, Mr. Secretary:
Why are we met in council?

Crom.
Please your honours,
The cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.

Gard.
Has he knowledge of it?

Crom.
Yes.

Nor.
Who waits there?

Keep.
Without, my noble lords?

Gard.
Yes.

Keep.
My lord arch-bishop;
And has done, half an hour, to know your pleasures.

Chan.
Let him come in.

Keep.
Your grace may enter, now. [Cranmer approaches the council Table.

Chan.
My good lord arch-bishop, I'm very sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty: but we all are men
In our own natures frail, out of which frailty,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little;
Tow'rd 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 dang'rous, which are heresies;
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gard.
Which reformation must be sudden, too,
My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses,
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur'em,
'Till they obey the manage. If we suffer
(Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness,
Farewel all physick: and what follow then?
Commotions, uproars, with a gen'ral taint,
Of the whole state:

Cran.
My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress,
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd
(And with no little study) that my teaching,
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely;
Pray Heav'n the king may never find a heart,
With less allegiance in it.
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.

Gard.
My lord, because we've business of more moment,* ^note

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

Cran.
Ay, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you;
You're 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 church-man 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 rev'rence to your calling makes me modest.

Gard.
My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.

Crom.
My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect,
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gard.
Good Mr. Secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom.
Why, my lord?

Gard.
Do not I know you for a favourer,
Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.

Crom.
Not sound!

Gard.
Not sound, I say.

Crom.
Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.

Gard.
I shall remember this bold language.* ^note

Crom.
Do.
Remember your bold life, too.

Cham.
This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.

Gard.
I've done.

Crom.
And I.

Cham.
Then thus for you, my lord; it stands agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith,
You be convey'd to th' Tower, a prisoner;
There to remain till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?

All.
We are.

Cran.
Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords?

Gard.
What other
Would you expect; you're strangely troublesome;
Let some o'th' guard be ready there. Enter Keeper.

Cran.
For me?
Must I go like a traitor, then?

Gard.
Receive him,
And see him safe i'th' Tower.

Cran.
Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, lords;
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king, my master.

Cham.
This is the king's ring.

Gard.
'Tis no counterfeit.

Suff.
'Tis his right ring. I told ye all,
When we first put this dang'rous stone a rolling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.

Nor.
D' you think, my lords,
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. Enter King frowning on them, takes his seat.

Gard.
Dread sov'reign, how much are we bound to heav'n,* ^note
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 of our dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

King.
You're ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flatt'ries, now.
Whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest [To Cranmer.
He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee,
By all that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.

Sur.
May't please your grace—

King.
No, sir, it does not please me.
I thought I had men of some understanding
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 foot-boy,
At chamber-door, and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Pow'r, as he was a counsellor, to try him,

Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice, than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye means;
Which ye shall never have, while I do live.* ^note

Chancel.
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'm sure, in me.

King.
Well, well, my lords, respect him:
Take him, and use him well, he's worthy if it.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be friends, for shame, my lords. My lord of Canterbury,
I have a suit, which you must not deny me,
There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.

Cran.
The greatest monarch now alive, may glory
In such an honour. How may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?

King.
Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons: you shall have
Two noble partners with you; the old Duchess
Of Norfolk, and the lady Marquess of Dorset—
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you
Embrace and love this man.

Gard.
With a true heart,
And brother's love, I do it.

Cran.
And let Heav'n
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.

King.
Good man, those joyful tears shew thy true heart.
The common voice, I see, is verify'd
Of thee, which says thus. Do my lord of Canterbury
But one shrewd turn, and he's 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.* ^note






















[Exe. 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?† ^note Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.

Within.

Good Mr. Porter, I belong to the larder.

Port.

Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue. Is this a place to roar in? I'll scratch your heads. Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?

Man.

We may as well push against Paul's, as stir 'em.

Port.

How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man.

Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in?

Within.

Do you hear, Mr. Porter?

Port.

I shall be with you presently, good Mr. Puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man.

What would you have me do?

Port.

What should you do, but knock 'em down, by the dozens. Is this Morefields, to muster in?

Chamb.
Mercy o' me; what a multitude are here?
Where are these porters,
These lazy knaves? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from th' christ'ning?

Port.
Please your honour,
We are but men, an army cannot rule 'em.

Man.
No, nor two armies.

Chamb.
As I live,
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By th' heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines, for neglect: y'are lazy knaves. [Exeunt. Discover six Guards, two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter King at arms, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his Marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk; then four noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, then the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god-mother, both trains borne up, and ladies. Lord Chamberlain, and Earl of Surry.

Cran.
Now to your royal grace, and the good queen,

My noble partners and myself thus pray;
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
That Heav'n e'er laid up, to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!

King.
Thank you, good lord arch-bishop.
What is her name?

Cran.
Elizabeth.

King.
Stand up, lord.
With this kiss take my blessing: Heav'n protect thee,
Into whose hand I give thy life.

Cran.
Amen.

King.
My noble gossips,
I thank ye heartily: so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.

Cran.
Let me speak, sir,
(For Heav'n now bids me) and the words I utter,
Let none think flatt'ry, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant, (Heaven still move about her)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises,
Upon this land, a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time will bring to ripeness. She shall be
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed her. Truth shall nurse her;
Holy and Heav'nly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd. Her own shall bless her,
Her foes shake, like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow. Our children's children
Shall see this, and bless Heav'n.

King.
Thou speakest wonders.

Cran.
She shall be to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more. But she must die,
She must, the saints must have her, yet a virgin,

A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.* ^note

King.
O, lord arch-bishop,
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heav'n, I shall desire
To see what this child does.
I thank ye all—
Lead the way, lords;
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye;
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
H'as business at his house, for all shall stay,
This little one shall make it holy-day. [Exeunt.† ^note The End of Henry the Eighth.

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