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, and capable
Of frailty, few are angels; from which frailty
And want of wisdom, you that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd your self, 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 follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a gen'ral 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 against
(Both in his private conscience and his place)
Defacers of the publick peace, than I do.
Pray heav'n 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 councellor,
And by that vertue no man dare accuse you.

Gard.
My lord, because we've business of more moment,
We will be short wi'you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure,
And our consent, for better tryal 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 my self,
(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!
Mens prayers then would seek you, not their fears

Gard.
I shall remember this bold language.

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 the Guard.

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 vertue 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.

Sur.
'Tis no counterfeit.

Suf.
'Tis his right ring, by heav'n. I told ye all,
When we first put this dang'rous stone a rowling,
'Twould fall upon our selves.

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.

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.

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