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Enter an Old Lady,
Gen. [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, 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.

Lady. Ay, ay, my Liege;
And of a lovely boy; the God of heav'n
Both now and ever bless her!-'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your Queen
Defires

your

visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.

King. Lovell!
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 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 elfe unsay't: now, while 'tis hot,
I'll put it to the iffue.

[Exit Ladya

SCENE IV. Before the council-chamber.

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 hafte. All faft? what means this? hoa?
Who waits there? sure you know me?

Enter Door-keeper.
D. Keep. Yes, my Lord;.
But yet I cannot help you.

Cran. Why?
D. Keep. Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for.

Enter

I am glad

Enter Doctor Butts.
Cran. So

Butts. This is a piece of malice.
I came this way so happily. The King
Shall understand it presently.

[Exit Butts. Cran. 'Tis Butts, The King's physician. As he pass'd along, How earnestly he cait his eyes upon me! Pray heav'n, he found not my disgrace! for certain, This is of purpose laid by some that hate me, (God turn their hearts! I never fought their malice,) To querch mine honour: they would shame to make me. Wait else at door: a fellow-counsellor, 'Mong boys and grooms, and lackeys! but their pleasures Muit be fulfillid, and I attend with patience.

Enter the King and Butts, at a window above..
Butts. I'll fhew your Grace the strangest fight-
King. What's that, Butts?
Butts. I think your Highness saw this many a daya
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. I thought
They'd parted fo 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 clofe,
We shall hear more anon.--

SCENE

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A council-table brought in, with chairs and stools, and placed

under the state. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himself 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, feat themfelves in order on each fide. Cromwell at the lower end, as Secretary.

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

your

Honours,
The cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury..

Gard. Has he had knowledge of it?
Crom. Yes.
Nor. Who waits there?
D. Keep.. Without, my Noble Lords ?'
Gard. 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-tables
Cban. My good Lord Archbishop, I am very sorry
To fit here at this present, and behold
That chair itand 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 yourself, and not a little;
Tow'rd the King first, and 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

To one man's honour) this contagious fickness,
Farewell all phyfic: and what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a gen’ral taint
Of the whole fate: 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 ftirs against,
(Both in his private conscience and his place,)
Defacers of the public 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 againft 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 mo..

ment, 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,
Bocome a churchman better than ambition:
Win ftraying fouls with modesty again,
Cast none away.. That I shall clear myself,

(Lay

(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 fo 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? iye are not found.

Crom. Not found?
Gard. Not found, 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 knowo 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

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