K. Hen. 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.

K. Hen.
Alas, good lady!
Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen.
'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.
Suf.
I wish your highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

K. Hen.

Charles, good night.[Exit SUFFOLK.

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: 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 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 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.

K. Hen. 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, 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 you, Without indurance, further. 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, with the whole world?

Your enemies are 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 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 oppos'd, 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:
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!

Be of good cheer;

K. Hen. 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 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 strangled

His language in his tears.

Cran.

Why?

This is of purpose laid by some that hate me,

To quench mine honour: they would shame to

make me

Wait else at door, a fellow councillor 'Mong boys, grooms and lackeys. But their plea

sures

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King and BUTTS, at a window above.
Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight,-
K. Hen.
What's that, Butts?
Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a
day.

Is this the honour they do one another?
'Tis well, there's one above 'em yet. I had thought,
They had 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.-

THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER.

[Exeunt.

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?

Gar.

Yes. D. Keep. My lord archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Chan. Let him come in. 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 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 them not in their hands to make them gentle, But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

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 against
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers 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.

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 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! 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 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.

Gar.

Good master 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.

Gar. Not sound, I say.
Crom.

Not sound?

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

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom.

Remember your bold life too.

Chan.

Forbear, for shame, my lords. Gar.

Crom.

Do.

This is too much;

I have done.

And I.

Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we 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 commendations,

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

Now,

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 it please your grace,—
K. Hen.

No, sir, it does not please me,
I had thought, I had 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 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; 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'm 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 beholding 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,

I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That 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?

K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your

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 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 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? As much as one sound cudgel of four foot (You see the poor remainder) could distribute, I made no spare, sir.

You did nothing, sir.

Port. 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 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 '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! 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 pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me: I defied 'em still; when sudden48

ly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, 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 of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, 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. Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

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

fellows:

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. Y'are lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;
They're come already from the christening.
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find

A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.
Man. You great fellow,

Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.
Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail;
I'll peck you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt.