1. A lively Flourish of Trumpets.

2. Then two Judges.

3. Lord Chancellor, with purse and mace before him.

4. Choristers ^note, singing. Musicians. ^note

5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head he wears ^note a gilt copper crown.

6. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demicoronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS. ^note

7. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS. ^note

8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the Queen in her robe; in her hair ^note richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.

9. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

They pass over the stage in order and state. ^note

Sec. Gent.
A royal train, believe me. These I know:
Who's that that ^note bears the sceptre?

First Gent.
Marquess Dorset:
And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.

Sec. Gent.
A bold brave gentleman. That ^note should be
The Duke of Suffolk?

First Gent.
'Tis the same: high-steward.

Sec. Gent.
And that my Lord of Norfolk?

First Gent.
Yes.

Sec. Gent. [Looking on the Queen ^note]
Heaven bless thee!
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more and richer, when he strains that lady: ^note
I cannot blame his conscience.

First Gent.
They that bear

The cloth of honour over ^note her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

Sec. Gent.
Those men are happy; and so ^note are all are near her. ^note
I take it, she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess ^note of Norfolk.

First Gent.
It is; and all the rest are countesses.

Sec. Gent.
Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed,
And sometimes falling ones.

First Gent. ^note
No more of that. ^note [Exit procession; and then ^note a great flourish of trumpets. Enter a third Gentleman.

First Gent. ^note
God save you, sir! where ^note have you been broiling ^note?

Third Gent.
Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a finger
Could not be wedged in more: I ^note am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

Sec. Gent.
You saw
The ceremony? ^note

Third Gent.
That I did ^note.

First Gent.
How was it?

Third Gent.
Well worth the seeing.

Sec. Gent.
Good sir, speak it to us.

Third Gent.
As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepared place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down

To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing ^note freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,—
Doublets, I think,—flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say ‘This ^note is my wife’ there, all were woven
So strangely in ^note one piece.

Sec. Gent.
But ^note what follow'd?

Third Gent.
At length her grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneel'd and saintlike
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly;
Then rose again and bow'd her to the people;
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had ^note all the royal makings of a queen,
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung ‘Te Deum.’ So she parted,
And with the same full state paced back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.

First Gent.
Sir,
You must ^note no more call it York-place; that's ^note past;
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost:
'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.

Third Gent.
I know it;
But 'tis so lately alter'd that ^note the old name
Is fresh about me.

Sec. Gent.
What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen?

Third Gent.
Stokesly ^note and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,
Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,
The other, London.

Sec. Gent.
He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's ^note,
The virtuous Cranmer.

Third Gent.
All the land knows that:
However, yet there is no great breach; when it ^note comes,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.

Sec. Gent.
Who may that be, I pray you?

Third Gent.
Thomas Cromwell;
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
A worthy friend. The king has made ^note him master
O' the jewel house ^note,
And one, already, of the privy council ^note.

Sec. Gent.
He will deserve more.

Third Gent.
Yes ^note, without all doubt. ^note
Come, gentlemen, ye shall ^note go my way,
Which is to the court, and there ye ^note shall be my guests:
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.

Both.
You may command us, sir. [Exeunt.

Scene II. Kimbolton. ^note Enter Katharine, Dowager, sick; led between Griffith, her Gentleman Usher, and Patience, her woman.

Grif.
How does your grace?

Kath.
O Griffith, sick to death!
My legs, like loaden ^note branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair. ^note
So; now ^note, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st ^note me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?

Grif.
Yes, madam; but I think ^note your grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.

Kath.
Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, ^note
For my example.

Grif.
Well, the voice goes, madam:
For after the stout Earl ^note Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,
As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
He could not sit his mule.

Kath.
Alas, poor man!

Grif.
At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his covent ^note, honourably received him;
To whom he gave these words, ‘O father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!’

So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of ^note repentance,
Continual meditations, tears and sorrows,
He gave ^note his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

Kath.
So may he rest; his faults lie ^note gently on ^note him! ^note
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that by suggestion
Tied ^noteall the kingdom: simony was fair-play:
His own opinion was his law: i' the presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning: he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now ^note, nothing:
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif.
Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.
Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else.

Grif.
This Cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. ^note
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading:

Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely: ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford! ^note one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive ^note the good that did it ^note;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

Kath.
After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating ^note
On that celestial harmony I go to. [Sad and solemn music.

Grif.
She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience. The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in

their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which the other four make reverent ^note curtsies; then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes ^note, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing vanish ^note, carrying the garland with them. The music continues. ^note

Kath.
Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all ^note gone,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Grif.
Madam, we are here.

Kath.
It is not you I call for:
Saw ye none enter since I slept?

Grif.
None, madam.

Kath.
No? Saw you not even now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Cast thousand ^note beams upon me, like the sun?
They promised me eternal happiness,
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly ^note.

Grif.
I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy.

Kath.
Bid the music leave;
They are ^note harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases.

Pat.
Do you note
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And ^note of an earthy cold ^note? Mark ^note her eyes!

Grif.
She is going, wench: pray, pray.

Pat.
Heaven comfort her!

Enter a Messenger ^note.

Mess.
An't ^note like your grace,—

Kath.
You are a saucy fellow:
Deserve we no more reverence?

Grif.
You are to blame ^note,
Knowing she will not lose ^note her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess.
I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.

Kath.
Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow
Let me ne'er see again. [Exeunt ^note Griffith and Messenger. Re-enter ^note Griffith, with Capucius.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius ^note.

Cap.
Madam, the same; your servant.

Kath.
O, my lord,
The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you ^note,
What is your pleasure with me?

Cap.
Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath.
O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
'Tis like a pardon after execution:

That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me;
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
How does his highness?

Cap.
Madam, in good health.

Kath.
So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,
I caused you write, yet sent away?

Pat.
No, madam. [Giving ^note it to Katharine.

Kath.
Sir, I most ^note humbly pray you to deliver
This ^note to my lord the king.

Cap.
Most willing ^note, madam.

Kath.
In which I have commended to his goodness
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 loved him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition ^note
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 ^note,
For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a noble: ^note
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
The last is, for my men; they are the poorest ^note,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me;

That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
And something over to remember me by ^note:
If heaven had pleased to have given ^note me longer life
And able ^note means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents: and, good my lord,
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.

Cap.
By heaven, I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath.
I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say ^note his long trouble now is passing ^note
Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, ^note
My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet: I must to bed; ^note
Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be used 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. Scene I. London. A gallery ^note in the palace. Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.

Gar.
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 Thomas!
Whither ^note so late?

Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord?

Gar.
I did, Sir Thomas, and ^note left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lov.
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gar.
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
It seems you are in haste: an if ^note 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 dispatch by day.

Lov.
My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work ^note. The queen's in labour,
They say, in great ^note extremity; and ^note fear'd
She'll with the labour end.

Gar.
The fruit she goes ^note with
I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov.
Methinks I could
Cry the ^note amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar.
But, sir, sir,
Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're ^note a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you ^note 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, is ^note made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir ^note,
Stands in the gap and trade of ^note moe ^note preferments,
With which the time ^note will load him. The archbishop
Is the king's hand and tongue ^note; and who dare speak
One syllable against him?

Gar.
Yes, yes ^note, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him: and indeed this ^note day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incensed the lords o' the ^note 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 ear to our complaint, of ^note his great grace
And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him, hath ^note commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented ^note. 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 ^note Gardiner and Page. ^noteEnter King ^note and Suffolk. ^note

King.
Charles, I will play no more ^note to-night;
My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.

Suf.
Sir, I did never win of you before.

King.
But little, Charles, ^note
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, 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 the great'st ^note humbleness, and desired your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.

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

Lov.
So said her woman, and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death.

King.
Alas, good lady!

Suf.
God safely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travail ^note, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!

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

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

King.
Charles, good ^note night. [Exit Suffolk. Enter ^note Sir Anthony Denny.
Well, sir, what follows?

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

King.
Ha! Canterbury?

Den.
Ay ^note, my good lord.

King.
'Tis true: where is he, Denny?

Den.
He attends your highness' pleasure.

King.
Bring him to us. [Exit Denny. ^note

Lov. [Aside ^note]
This is about that which the bishop spake:
I am happily come hither. Re-enter ^note Denny, with Cranmer.

King.
Avoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.] Ha! I have said. Be gone ^note.
What! ^note [Exeunt Lovell and Denny. ^note

Cran. [Aside ^note]
I am fearful ^note: 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 ^note.

Cran. [Kneeling ^note]
It is my duty
To attend ^note your highness' pleasure.

King.
Pray you, arise ^note,
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
I have ^note news to tell you: come, come ^note, give me your hand ^note.
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 moved 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
To make your house our Tower: you ^note a brother of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

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

King. ^note
Stand up, good Canterbury:
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted ^note
In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up:

Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame ^note,
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 ^note heard you,
Without indurance, further.

Cran.
Most dread liege,
The good ^note I stand on is my truth and honesty:
If they shall fail ^note, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What ^note can be said against me.

King.
Know you not
How your state stands i' the world, with the whole world?
Your enemies are ^note many, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion; and not ever
The justice and the truth o' the question carries
The due ^note 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 ^note potently opposed, and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjured witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles ^note here he lived
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice ^note for no leap of danger,
And woo ^note your own destruction.

Cran.
God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!

King.
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 ^note 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 ^note weeps!
He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!
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 ^note strangled
His language ^note in his tears ^note. Enter ^note Old Lady; Lovell following.

Gent. [Within]
Come back: what mean you?

Old L.
I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring
Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings!

King.
Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?
Say, ay, and of a boy.

Old L.
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 ^note
As cherry is to cherry.

King.
Lovell!

Lov.
Sir?

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

Old L.
An hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' ^note more.
An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl was like to ^note him?
I will ^note have more, or else unsay't; and now ^note,
While it is ^note hot, I'll put it to the issue ^note. [Exeunt. ^{note note} Scene II. [Footnote: Before the council-chamber. ^note Pursuivants, Pages, &c. attending. Enter ^note Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury.

Cran.
I hope I am ^note 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? Ho!
Who waits there? Sure, you know me? Enter Keeper.

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

Cran.
Why? Enter ^note Doctor Butts.

Keep.
Your grace ^note must wait till you be call'd for.

Cran.
So.

Butts. [Aside ^note]
This is a piece ^note of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily ^note: the king
Shall understand it presently. [Exit.

Cran. [Aside ^note]
'Tis Butts,
The king's physician: as he pass'd along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
Pray heaven, he sound ^note not my disgrace! For certain,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me—
God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice—
To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me
Wait else at door, a fellow-councillor,
'Mong ^note boys ^note, grooms ^note and lackeys. But their pleasures ^note
Must be fulfill'd ^note, and I attend with patience. Enter the King and Butts at a window above.

Butts.
I'll show your grace the strangest sight— ^note

King.
What's that, Butts?

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

King.
Body o' me ^note, 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 footboys.

King.
Ha! 'tis he, indeed:
Is this the honour they do one another?
Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I ^note had ^note thought
They had ^note parted so much honesty among 'em,
At least good manners, as not thus to suffer
A man of his place and so near our favour

To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close;
We shall hear more anon. [Exeunt ^note. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: The council-chamber. ^note Enter Lord Chancellor, ^note places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's seat; Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as secretary. ^note Keeper at the door. ^note

Chan.
Speak to the business, master ^note secretary:
Why are we ^note met in council?

Crom.
Please your honours,
The chief ^note cause ^note concerns ^note his grace of Canterbury.

Gar.
Has he had knowledge of it?

Crom.
Yes.

Nor.
Who waits there?

Keep.
Without, my noble ^note lords?

Gar.
Yes. ^note

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

Chan.
Let him come in.

Keep.
Your grace may enter now. [Cranmer enters and ^note approaches the council-table.

Chan.
My good lord archbishop, 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 and capable
Of our flesh; ^note few ^note are angels: out of ^note which frailty
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
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 '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,
Farewell all physic: and what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state: as of late days our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

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; 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 ^note against,

Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a ^note 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.

Suf.
Nay, my lord,
That cannot be: you are a councillor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.

Gar.
My lord, because we have ^note business of more moment,
We will be short with 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.
Ah ^note, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;
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 discovers,
To men that understand you, words ^note and weakness.

Crom.
My Lord of Winchester, you are ^note 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 ^note
To load a falling man.

Gar.
Good master ^note secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom.
Why, my lord?

Gar.
Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.

Crom.
Not sound?

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

Gar.
I have ^note done.

Crom.
And I.

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

All.
We are.

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

Gar.
What other
Would you expect? you are ^note strangely troublesome.
Let some o' the guard be ready there.

Enter Guard. ^note

Cran.
For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?

Gar.
Receive him,
And see him safe i' the Tower.

Cran.
Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my 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. ^note
This is the king's ring.

Sur.
'Tis no counterfeit.

Suf.
'Tis the ^note right ring, by heaven: I told ye all,
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
Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. ^note
'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 ^note only envy at,
Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye! ^noteEnter King, frowning on them; takes his seat.

Gar.
Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven ^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, out of ^note dear respect,

His royal self in judgement comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

King.
You were ^note ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery ^note now, and in my presence
They ^note are too thin and bare ^note to hide offences.
To me ^note you cannot reach you ^note play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But, whatsoe'er thou takest me for, I'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. [To Cranmer ^note]
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest
He, ^note that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve
Than but once think this ^note place becomes thee not.

Sur.
May it please your grace,—

King.
No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men ^note 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 footboy
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
Power as he was a councillor 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 mean ^note;

Which ye shall never have while I live ^note.

Chan. ^note
Thus far ^note,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed
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 of it.
I will say thus much for him, if a prince
May be beholding ^note to a subject, I
Am, for his love and service, so to him. ^note
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ^note:
Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That is, ^note 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'ld spare your spoons: you shall have two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady ^note Marquess Dorset ^note: will these please you? ^{note note}

Gar.
With a true heart

And brother-love ^note I do it.

Cran.
And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

King.
Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart ^note:
The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus: ‘Do my Lord of Canterbury
A ^note shrewd turn, and he is ^note 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. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: The palace yard. ^note Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man.

Port.

You'll leave ^note your noise anon, ye rascals: do you take the court for Paris-garden ^note? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.

[Within]

‘Good master ^note porter, I belong to the larder.’

Port.

Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye ^note rogue! Is this a place to roar ^note in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but switches to 'em. ^note I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings? do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? ^note

Man.
Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impossible—

Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons—
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:
We may as well ^note push against Powle's ^note as stir 'em.

Port.
How got they in, and be hang'd?

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 'em 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 ne'er ^note hope to see a chine ^note again;
And that I would not for a cow ^note, God save her! ^note

[Within]
‘Do you hear, master ^note porter?’

Port.
I shall be with you presently, good master ^note puppy.
Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man.

What would you have me do?

Port.

What should you do, ^note but knock 'em 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 ^note! 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 ^note 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 ^note. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell ^note off her head, for kindling such a ^note combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out ‘Clubs!’ when I might see from far ^note some forty truncheoners ^note draw to her succour, which were the hope ^note o' ^note the Strand ^note, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place: at length they came to the broomstaff to me ^note; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles ^note, ^note that I was fain to draw mine honour in and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.

Port.

These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the tribulation ^note of Tower-hill, or the limbs ^note of Limehouse, their dear brothers ^note, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come. ^note

Cham.
Mercy o' me, what a ^note multitude are here!
They grow still too; from all parts they are coming,
As if we kept a fair here ^note. Where are these porters,
These lazy knaves? Ye have ^note made a fine ^note hand, fellows:

There's a trim rabble let in: are all these
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.

Port.
An't please ^note your honour,
We are but men; and what so many ^note may do,
Not being torn a-pieces ^note, we have done:
An army cannot rule 'em.

Cham.
As I live,
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect: ye 're ^note lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards when
Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;
They're ^note come already from the christening:
Go, break among the press ^note, and find a way ^note out
To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.

Port.
Make way there ^note for the princess.

Man.
You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

Port.
You i' the camlet ^note, get up o' ^note the rail;
I'll peck ^note you o'er the pales ^note else. [Exeunt.

^note Scene V. [Footnote: The palace. ^note Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls for the christening-gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c., train borne by a Lady; then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart.

Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth! ^note

Cran. [Kneeling ^note]
And to your royal grace, and the good queen.
My noble partners and myself thus pray: ^note
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady ^note,
Heaven ever ^note laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!

King.
Thank you, good lord archbishop ^note:
What is her name?

Cran.
Elizabeth.

King.
Stand up, lord. [The King ^note kisses the child.
With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
Into whose hand I give thy life.

Cran.
Amen.

King.
My noble gossips, ye have ^note been too prodigal:
I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.

Cran.
Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, 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 shall bring to ripeness: she shall be—
But few now ^note living can behold that goodness—
A pattern to all princes living with her
And all that shall succeed: Saba ^note was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure ^note soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such ^note a mighty piece as this is ^note,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn ^note,
And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her: ^note
In her days every man shall eat in safety,
Under his own vine, what he plants, and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read ^note the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim ^note their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but, as when

The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phœnix,
Her ashes new create another heir
As great in admiration as herself,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one—
When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness—
Who from the sacred ashes of her honour
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his and like a vine grow to him:
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him. Our ^note children's children
Shall see this, and bless heaven. ^note

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

King.
O lord archbishop,
Thou hast made me now a man! never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me,
That when I am in heaven I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good ^note brethren, I am much beholding ^note;

I have received much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. 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
Has ^note business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.

THE EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here: some come to take their ease ^note,
And sleep ^note an act or two; but those, we fear,
We have ^note frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
They'll say 'tis ^note naught: others, to hear the city
Abused extremely, and to cry ‘That's witty!’
Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,
All the expected good we're ^note like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The ^note merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,
And say 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.

NOTES. ^note

^note

^note