Mess. An't like your grace, Kath. You are a saucy fellow: Deserve we no more reverence? Grif You are to blame, Knowing she will not lose 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 Grif. and Mess.

Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. 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, 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 cur'd 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 caus'd you write, yet sent away?
Pat.

No, madam.

[Giving it to Katharine. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Cap. Kath. In which I have commended to his good

ness

Most willing, madam.

The model' of our chaste loves, his young daughter: 2

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 be3 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,
And able 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.

Сар.
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, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
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,

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.
can no more.— [Exeunt, leading Katharine.

I

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?

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
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long,

Image. (2) Afterwards Queen Mary.
Even if he should be.

In them a wilder nature, than the business That seeks despatch by day.

Lov.

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.

Gar.

The fruit, she goes with, I pray for heartily; that it may find

Suf.

Methinks, I could Cry the 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 are a gentleman 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 preferments, With which the time will load him: The archbishop Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak

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 ear to our complaint (of his great grace
And princely care; forescing those fell mischiefs
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.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;
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 greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high-

ness

Most heartily to pray for her.

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
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

K. Hen.

Charles, good night.— [Exit Suffolk.

'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
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 con-
sider'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,4

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

(5) Value.

Being of those virtues vacant. What can be said against me.

I fear nothing

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!

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
weeps!

man

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.-

His language in his tears.

[Exit Cranmer. He has strangled

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 day.
K. Hen. 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 footboys.

K. Hen.

Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, Is this the honour they do one another? They had parted so much honesty among them, (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 them alone, and draw the curtain close; We shall hear more anon.

THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell. The Chancellor places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for the Arch bishop of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at the lower end, as secretary.

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

Crom.

The chief cause concerns his Gar. Has he had knowledge

Please your honours, grace of Canterbury. of it?

Yes. Who waits there?

Yes.

Crom.
Nor.
D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?
Gar.

2 H

140

D. Keep.

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, oy your teaching, and your chap-
lains,

(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 counsellor,
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'

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.

Do. This is too much;

I have done.

And I.

Gar.
Crom.
Chan. 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?
All. We are.
Cran.

Is there no other way of merey,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?
Gar.
What other
Would you expect? You are strangely trouble-

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 ve can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,

(1) In singleness of heart.' Acts il. 46.

Nor.

Do 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.

Enter King, frowning on them; takes his seat. 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