Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed, I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. An't like your grace,

Kath. You are a saucy fellow :

Deserve we no more reverence?

Grif. You are to blame,

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,
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 be 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,

Knowing, she will not lose her wonted great. As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,

ness,

To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness'
pardon;

My haste made me unmannerly: There is stay-
ing

A gentleman, sent from the king to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this

fellow

Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Put. No, madam.[Giving it to KATHARINE.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.

Cap. Most willing, madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter: +

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!

Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature;

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king

To do me this last right.

Cap. By heaven, I will;

Or let me loose the fashion of a man!

[me

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember
In all bumility 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

Even if he should be.
A game at cards.

(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have 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,

pray for heartily; that it may find

Good time, and live: but for the stock,
Thomas,

⚫ wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, dues
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar. But, Sir, Sir,

K. Hen. What say'st thou ? ha!
To pray for her? what, is she crying cut?
Lov. So said her woman; and that her suffer
ance 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
Sir The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

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,

O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: further,
Sir,

Stands in the gap and trade of more prefer-
ments,

With which the time will load him: The archbishop

Suf. I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

K. Hen. Charles, good night.

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.
K. Hen. Avoid the gallery.

[LOVELL seems to stay.

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare Ha!-I have said.-Begone.

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; foreseeing those fell mis-
chiefs

Our reasons laid before him,) he hath com-
manded,

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?

What!
[Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.
Cran. I am fearful :-Wherefore frowns be
thus ?

'Tis his aspect of terror.

All's not well.

K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to know

Wherefore I sent for you.

Cran. It is my duty,

To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. '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
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
of us,*
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

• One of the council.

Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard | Said I for this, the girl is like to him!

Crom. Please your honours,

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,

The chief cause concerns his grace of Cauter-You are so merciful: I see your end,

bury.

D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

'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,

And has done half an hour, to know your plea- But reverence to your calling makes me mo

To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty:
In our own natures frail
Of our flesh, few are
frailty,

But we all are men,
and capable
angels: out of which

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;

dest.

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 weak

ness.

Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a lit

tle,

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. Not sound?

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest !

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

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.

Put stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and Remember your bold life too.

spur them,

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our easiness, and childish pity

To one man's honour) this contagious sick-
ness,

Farewell, all physic: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neigh-
bours,

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 take
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,

Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lord

ships,

That in this case of justice, my accusers,

By virtue of that ring, I take my cause

Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, To a most noble judge, the king my master. 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'

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,

"In singleness of heart." Acts ii. 46.

When we first put this dangerous stone a roll-
Twould fall upon ourselves.
ing,

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 file that burns ye: Now have at
ye.

Gar. With a true heart,
And brother love, I do it.
Cran. And let heaven

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
K. Hen. 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 is your friend for

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.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.
Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER
and his MAN.

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

Than but once think his place becomes thee 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 them from the door with
cannous,)

To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir

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 fost
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, Sir.

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them down before me: but if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or pur-cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present giant. spoous to their god-children.