The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  However faulty, yet should find respect

  For what they have been. ’Tis a cruelty

  To load a falling man.

  GARDINER

  Good master secretary,

  I cry your honour mercy. You may worst

  Of all this table say so.

  CROMWELL

  Why, my lord?

  GARDINER

  Do not I know you for a favourer

  Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.

  CROMWELL

  Not sound?

  GARDINER

  Not sound, I say.

  CROMWELL

  Would you were half so honest!

  Men’s prayers then would seek you, not their fears.

  GARDINER

  I shall remember this bold language.

  CROMWELL

  Do.

  Remember your bold life, too.

  LORD CHANCELLOR

  This is too much.

  Forbear, for shame, my lords.

  GARDINER

  I have done.

  CROMWELL

  And I.

  LORD CHANCELLOR (to Cranmer)

  Then thus for you, my lord. It stands agreed,

  I take it, by all voices, that forthwith

  You be conveyed to th’ Tower a prisoner,

  There to remain till the King’s further pleasure

  Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?

  ALL THE COUNCIL

  We are.

  CRANMER Is there no other way of mercy,

  But I must needs to th’ Tower, my lords?

  GARDINER

  What other

  Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.

  Let some o’th’ guard be ready there.

  Enter the guard

  CRANMER

  For me?

  Must I go like a traitor thither?

  GARDINER (to the guard)

  Receive him,

  And see him safe i’th’ Tower.

  CRANMER

  Stay, good my lords.

  I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords—

  He shows the King’s ring

  By virtue of that ring I take my cause

  Out of the grips of cruel men, and give it

  To a most noble judge, the King my master.

  LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  This is the King’s ring.

  SURREY

  ’Tis no counterfeit.

  SUFFOLK

  ’Tis the right ring, by heav’n. I told ye all

  When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling

  ’Twould fall upon ourselves.

  NORFOLK

  Do you think, my lords,

  The King will suffer but the little finger

  Of this man to be vexed?

  LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  ’Tis now too certain.

  How much more is his life in value with him!

  Would I were fairly out on’t.

  ⌈Exit King with Butts above⌉

  CROMWELL

  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, below, King Henry frowning on them. He takes his seat

  GARDINER

  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 judgement comes to hear

  The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

  KING HENRY

  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 base to hide offences.

  To me you cannot reach. You play the spaniel,

  And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

  But whatsoe’er thou tak’st me for, I’m sure

  Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.

  (To Cranmer) Good man, sit down.

  Cranmer takes his seat at the head of the Council table

  Now let me see the proudest,

  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.

  SURREY

  May it please your grace—

  KING HENRY

  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.

  LORD CHANCELLOR

  Thus far,

  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 HENRY

  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 beholden 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. (To Cranmer) 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.

  CRANMER

  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 HENRY Come, come, my lord—you’d spare your spoons. You shall have two noble partners with you—the old Duchess of Norfolk and Lady Marquis Dorset. Will these please you?

  (To Gardiner) Once more, my lord of Winchester, I

  charge you

  Embrace and love this man.

  GARDINER

  With a true heart

  And brother-love I do it.

  ⌈Gardiner and Cranmer embrace⌉

  CRANMER (weeping)

  And let heaven

  Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

  KING HENRY

  Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.

  The common voice, I see, is verified

  Of thee which says thus, ‘Do my lord of Canterbury

  A shrewd turn, and he’s 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

  5.3 Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter ⌈with rushes⌉ and his man ⌈with a broken cudgel⌉

  PORTER (to those within)

  You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take

  The court for Paris Garden, ye rude sla
ves?

  Leave your gaping.

  ONE (within)

  Good master porter, I belong to th’ larder.

  PORTER

  Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue!

  Is this a place to roar in?

  (To his man)

  Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones,

  ⌈Raising his rushes⌉ These are but switches to ’em.

  (To those within)

  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.

  PORTER How got they in, and be hanged?

  MAN

  Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in?

  As much as one sound cudgel of four foot—

  He raises his cudgel

  You see the poor remainder—could distribute,

  I made no spare, sir.

  PORTER

  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 hope to see a chine again—

  And that I would not for a cow, God save her!

  ONE (within) Do you hear, master porter?

  PORTER

  I shall be with you presently,

  Good master puppy. (To his man) Keep the door close,

  sirrah.

  MAN

  What would you have me do?

  PORTER

  What should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ 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 pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed 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’th’ Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on. I made good my place. At length they came to th’ broomstaff to me. I defied ’em still, when suddenly 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.

  PORTER 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

  LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  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? (To the Porter and his man) You’ve

  made a fine hand, fellows!

  There’s a trim rabble let in—are all these

  Your faithful friends o’th’ suburbs? We shall have

  Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies

  When they pass back from the christening!

  PORTER

  An’t please your honour,

  We are but men, and what so many may do,

  Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.

  An army cannot rule ’em.

  LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  As I live, If the King blame me for’t, I’ll lay ye all

  By th’ heels, and suddenly—and on your heads

  Clap round fines for neglect. You’re lazy knaves,

  And here ye lie baiting of bombards when

  Ye should do service.

  Flourish of trumpets within

  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.

  ⌈As they leave, the Porter and his man call within⌉

  PORTER

  Make way there for the Princess!

  MAN

  You great fellow,

  Stand close up, or I’ll make your head ache.

  PORTER

  You i’th’ camlet, get up o’th’ rail—

  I’ll peck you o’er the pales else.

  Exeunt

  5.4 Enter trumpeters, sounding. Then enter two aldermen, the Lord Mayor of London, Garter King-of-Arms, Cranmer the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Duke of Norfolk with his marshal’s staff, the Duke of Suffolk, two noblemen bearing great standing bowls for the christening gifts; then enter four noblemen bearing a canopy, under which is the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child Elizabeth richly habited in a mantle, whose train is borne by a lady. Then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage and Garter speaks

  GARTER Heaven, from thy endless goodness send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth.

  Flourish. Enter King Henry and guard

  CRANMER (kneeling)

  And to your royal grace, and the good Queen!

  My noble partners and myself thus pray

  All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,

  Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,

  May hourly fall upon ye.

  KING HENRY

  Thank you, good lord Archbishop.

  What is her name?

  CRANMER

  Elizabeth.

  KING HENRY

  Stand up, lord.

  Cranmer rises

  (To the child) With this kiss take my blessing—

  He kisses the child

  God protect thee,

  Into whose hand I give thy life.

  CRANMER

  Amen.

  KING HENRY (to Cranmer, old Duchess, and Marchioness) My noble gossips, you’ve been too prodigal. I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady, When she has so much English.

  CRANMER

  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 living can behold that goodness—

  A pattern to all princes living with her,

  And all that shall succeed. Saba was never

  More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue

  Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces

  That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,

  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 feared. Her own shall bless her;

  Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,

  And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with

  her.

  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 the perfect ways of honour,

  And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

  Nor shall this peace sleep with her, but, as when

  The bird of wonder dies—the maiden phoenix—

  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 fixed. 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 children’s children

  Shall see this, and bless heaven.

  KING HENRY

  Thou speakest wonders.

  CRAMMER

  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,

  A most unspotted lily shall she pass

  To th’ ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

  KING HENRY

  O lord Archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man. Never before

  This happy child did I get anything.

  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 brethren, I am much beholden.