Alas, good lady!
Suffolk
God safely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!
King Henry VIII
’Tis midnight, Charles;
Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.
Suffolk
I wish your highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
King Henry VIII
Charles, good night.
Exit Suffolk
Enter Denny
Well, sir, what follows?
Denny
Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
As you commanded me.
King Henry VIII
Ha! Canterbury?
Denny
Ay, my good lord.
King Henry VIII
’Tis true: where is he, Denny?
Denny
He attends your highness’ pleasure.
Exit Denny
Lovell
[Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake:
I am happily come hither.
Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer
King Henry VIII
Avoid the gallery.
Lovell seems to stay
Ha! I have said. Be gone. What!
Exeunt Lovell and Denny
Cranmer
[Aside]
I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus?
’Tis his aspect of terror. All’s not well.
King Henry VIII
How now, my lord! you desire to know
Wherefore I sent for you.
Cranmer
[Kneeling] It is my duty
To attend your highness’ pleasure.
King Henry VIII
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 consider’d,
Have moved 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.
Cranmer
[Kneeling]
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.
King Henry VIII
Stand up, good Canterbury:
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up:
Prithee, let’s walk. Now, by my holidame.
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.
Cranmer
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.
King Henry VIII
Know you not
How your state stands i’ the world, with the whole world?
Your enemies are many, and not small; their practises
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 opposed; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjured witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.
Cranmer
God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!
King Henry VIII
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 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.
Enter Old Lady, Lovell following
Gentleman
[Within] Come back: what mean you?
Old 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 Henry VIII
Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver’d?
Say, ay; and of a boy.
Old Lady
Ay, ay, my liege;
And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her! ’tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger ’tis as like you
As cherry is to cherry.
King Henry VIII
Lovell!
Lovell
Sir?
King Henry VIII
Give her an hundred marks. I’ll to the queen.
Exit
Old 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 to him?
I will have more, or else unsay’t; and now,
While it is hot, I’ll put it to the issue.
Exeunt
SCENE II. BEFORE THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER. PURSUIVANTS, PAGES, & C.
attending.
Enter Cranmer
Cranmer
I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,
That was sent to me from the council, pray’d me
To make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho!
Who waits there? Sure, you know me?
Enter Keeper
Keeper
Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you.
Cranmer
Why?
Enter Doctor Butts
Keeper
Your grace must wait till you be call’d for.
Cranmer
So.
Doctor Butts
[Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily: the king
Shall understand it presently.
Exit
Cranmer
[Aside] ’Tis Butts,
The king’s physician: as he pass’d along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me —
God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice —
To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me
Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor,
’Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures
Must be fulfill’d, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King Henry VIII and Doctor Butts at a window above
Doctor Butts
I’ll show your grace the strangest sight —
King Henry VIII
What’s that, Butts?
Doctor Butts
I think your highness saw this many a day.
King Henry VIII
Body o’ me, where is it?
Doctor Butts
There, my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;
Who holds his state at door, ’mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.
King Henry VIII
Ha! ’tis he, indeed:
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.
Exeunt
SCENE III. THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER.
Enter Chancellor; places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for Cranmer’s seat. Suffolk, Norfolk, Surrey, Chamberlain, Gardiner, seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as secretary. Keeper at the door
Chancellor
Speak to the business, master-secretary:
Why are we met in council?
Cromwell
Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gardiner
Has he had knowledge of it?
Cromwell
Yes.
Norfolk
Who waits there?
Keeper
Without, my noble lords?
Gardiner
Yes.
Keeper
My lord archbishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chancellor
Let him come in.
Keeper
Your grace may enter now.
Cranmer enters and approaches the council-table
Chancellor
My good lord archbishop, 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 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.
Gardiner
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,
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.
Cranmer
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.
Suffolk
Nay, my lord,
That cannot be: you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
Gardiner
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.
Cranmer
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.
Gardiner
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.
Cromwell
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.
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.
Chancellor
This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gardiner
I have done.
Cromwell
And I.
Chancellor
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.
Cranmer
Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?
Gardiner
What other
Would you expect? you are strangely troublesome.
Let some o’ the guard be ready there.
Enter Guard
Cranmer
For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?
Gardiner
Receive him,
And see him safe i’ the Tower.
Cranmer
Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue 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.
Chamberlain
This is the king’s ring.
Surrey
’Tis no counterfeit.
Suffolk
’Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all,
When ye 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 vex’d?
Chancellor
’Tis now too certain:
How much more is his life in value with him?
Would I were fairly out on’t!
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 King, frowning on them; 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 judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
King Henry VIII
You were ever good at sudden commendations,
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