That set Jack Straw on fire. The spirit lives.
And as, when he of Canterbury fell,
His seat was filled by some no better clerk,
So shall John Ball that slew him be replaced.
And if I live and thrive, these English lords
Double requital shall be served withal,
For this their double-dealing.-Pardon me!
You are but just dismounted, and the soil
Of travel is upon you. Food and rest
You must require.
To-morrow morn
We will speak more together. Father John!
Though peradventure fallen in your esteem,
I humbly ask your blessing, as a man
That, having passed for more in your repute
Than he could justify, should be content,
Not with his state, but with the judgment true

That to the lowly level of his state
Brings down his reputation.
Father John.
O my son!
High as you stand, I will not strain mine eyes
To see how higher still you stood before.
God's blessing be upon you! fare you well!

[Exit. Art. The old man weeps. Let England play me false !

The greater is my glory if the day

Is won without her aid. I stand alone;
And standing so, against the mingled might
Of Burgundy and France, to hold mine own
Is special commendation; to prevail
So far as victory were high renown;
To be foredone no singular disgrace.

Behold him, brethren: he hath cause to weep!

So have we all: weep with him if ye will,
Yet-

It is expedient for one man to die,

Yea, for the people, lest the people die.

Yet wherefore should he die that hath returned
To the one Catholic Universal Church,
Repentant of his errors?

Those of the wrong side will despise the man,
Deeming him one that thro' the fear of death
Gave up his cause, except he seal his faith
In sight of all with flaming martyrdom.

Cranmer. Ay.

Cole. Ye hear him, and albeit there may

seem

According to the canons pardon due
To him that so repents, yet are there causes

Wherefore our Queen and Council at this

time

Adjudge him to the death. He hath been a

traitor,

A shaker and confounder of the realm;
And when the King's divorce was sued at
Rome,

He here, this heretic metropolitan,
As if he had been the Holy Father, sat
And judged it. Did I call him heretic?
A huge heresiarch! never was it known
That any man so writing, preaching so,
So poisoning the Church, so long continuing,
Hath found his pardon; therefore he must
die,

For warning and example.

.

Take therefore, all, example by this man,
For if our Holy Queen not pardon him,
Much less shall others in like cause escape,
That all of you, the highest as the lowest,
May learn there is no power against the Lord.
There stands a man, once of so high degree,
Chief prelate of our Church, archbishop, first
In Council, second person in the realm,
Friend for so long time of a mighty King;
And now ye see downfallen and debased
From councillor to caitiff-fallen so low,
The leprous flutterings of the byway, scum
And offal of the city would not change

90

As much as in you lieth. Hurt no man more Than you would harm your loving natural brother

Of the same roof, same breast. If any do,
Albeit he think himself at home with God,
Of this be sure, he is whole worlds away.

Fourthly, to those that own exceeding wealth,
Remember that sore saying spoken once
By Him that was the truth, How hard it is
For the rich man to enter into Heaven;'
Let all rich men remember that hard word.
I have not time for more: if ever, now
Let them flow forth in charity, seeing now
The poor so many, and all food so dear.
Long have I lain in prison, yet have heard
Of all their wretchedness. Give to the poor,
Ye give to God. He is with us in the poor.
And now, and forasmuch as I have come
To the last end of life, and thereupon

In every article of the Catholic faith,
And every syllable taught us by our Lord,
His prophets, and apostles, in the Testaments, 110
Both Old and New.

Cole. Be plainer, Master Cranmer.
Cranmer. And now I come to the great

cause that weighs
Upon my conscience more than anything
Or said or done in all my life by me;
For there be writings I have set abroad
Against the truth I knew within my heart,
Written for fear of death, to save my life,
If that might be; the papers by my hand
Signed since my degradation--by this hand
(Holding out his right hana)
Written and signed I here renounce them
all;

And, since my hand offended, having written Against my heart, my hand shall first be burnt,

So I may come to the fire.

Williams. You know that

all you said

you recanted

Touching the sacrament in that same book You wrote against my Lord of Winchester; Dissemble not; play the plain Christian man. Cranmer. Alas, my Lord,

120

I have been a man loved plainness all my 130 life;

I did dissemble, but the hour has come
For utter truth and plainness; wherefore I

say,

I hold by all I wrote within that book.
Moreover,

As for the Pope I count him Antichrist,
With all his devil's doctrines; and refuse,
Reject him, and abhor him. I have said.
Cole. Ay, stop the heretic's mouth! Hale
him away!

Williams. Harm him not, harm him not!
have him to the fire!
(Cranmer goes out. Lord William Howard
and Lord Paget are left alone.)
Paget. The nave and aisles all empty as a
fool's jest!

No, here's Lord William Howard.

What,

Fie!

To stand at ease, and stare as at a show, And watch a good man burn. Never again,

140

I saw the deaths of Latimer and Ridley. Moreover, tho' a Catholic, I would not, For the pure honour of our common nature, Hear what I might-another recantation 150 Of Cranmer at the stake.

160

Paget. You'd not hear that. He passed out smiling, and he walked upright;

His eye was like a soldier's, whom the general He looks to and he leans on as his God,

Hath rated for some backwardness and bidden him

Charge one against a thousand, and the man Hurls his soiled life against the pikes and dies.

Howard. Yet that he might not after all those papers

Of recantation yield again, who knows?

Paget. Papers of recantation! Think you then

That Cranmer read all papers that he signed? Or signed all those they tell us that he signed? Nay, I trow not: and you shall see, my Lord,

See also BECKET

That howsoever hero-like the man
Dies in the fire, this Bonner or another
Will in some lying fashion misreport
His ending to the glory of their church.
And you saw Latimer and Ridley die?
Latimer was eighty, was he not? his best
Of life was over then.
Howard.

His eighty years

Looked somewhat crooked on him in his frieze;

But after they had stript him to his shroud,
He stood upright, a lad of twenty-one,
And gathered with his hands the starting
flame,

And washed his hands and all his face therein,
Until the powder suddenly blew him dead.
Ridley was longer burning; but he died
As manfully and boldly, and, 'fore God,
I know them heretics, but right English ones.
If ever, as heaven grant, we clash with Spain,
Our Ridley-soldiers and our Latimer-sailors
Will teach her something.

ΙΟ

Hedzoff (taking a death-warrant out of his dressing-gown pocket), Hedzoff, good Hedzoff, seize upon the Prince. Thou'lt find him in his chamber two pair up. But now he dared, with sacrilegious hand, to strike the sacred nightcap of a king-Hedzoff, and floor me with a warming-pan! Away! no more demur, the villain dies! See it be done, or else-h'm! -ha!-h'm!-mind thine own eyes! [Exit.

Hed. Poor, poor Giglio, my noble young Prince! is it my hand must lead thee to death?

Gruff. Lead him to fiddlestick, Hedzoff! The King said you were to hang the Prince. Well, hang the Prince.

Hed. I don't understand you.

Gruff. You gaby! he didn't say which Prince.

Hed. No; he didn't say which, certainly. Gruff. Well, then, take Bulbo, and hang

him!

Hed. Obedience is a soldier's honour. Prince Bulbo's head will do capitally.

but you will have to act for yourself, and it's a pity to wake Baron Sleibootz.

Bulbo. Of course, Captain, you are come about that affair with Prince Giglio?

Hed. Precisely, that affair of Prince Giglio. Bulbo. Is it to be pistols or swords, Captain? I'm a pretty good hand with both, and I'll do for Prince Giglio as sure as my name is my Royal Highness Prince Bulbo.

Hed. There's some mistake, my lord. The business is done with axes among us.

Bulbo. Axes? That's sharp work. Call my chamberlain, he'll be my second, and in ten minutes, I flatter myself, you'll see Master Giglio's head off his impertinent shoulders. I'm hungry for his blood. Hoo-oo, aw!

Hed. I beg your pardon, sir, but by this warrant I am to take you prisoner, and hand you over to-to the executioner.

Bulbo. Pooh, pooh! my good man!-Stop, I say-ho!-hulloa!

Where is his Royal Highness?

John. I've a-took up his Roilinessesses shaving-water and his clothes and things, and he wasn't in his room, which I 'spose his Royliness was just stepped hout.

King. Stepped out before breakfast in the snow! Impossible! (Sticking his fork into a sausage.) My dear, take one. Angelica, won't you have a saveloy?

Enter GLUMBOSO and CAPTAIN HEDZoff.

Glum. I am afraid, your MajestyKing. No business before breakfast, Glum! Breakfast first, business next. Mrs V., some more sugar!

Glum. Sire, I am afraid if we wait till after breakfast it will be too late. He-he-he'll be hanged at half-past nine.

Ang. Don't talk about hanging and spoil my breakfast, you unkind vulgar man, you! John, some mustard. Pray, who is to be hanged?

Glum. Sire, it is the Prince.

King. Talk about business after breakfast, I tell you!

Glum. We shall have a war, sire, depend on it. His father, King Padella—

King. His father, King who? King Padella is not Giglio's father. My brother, King Savio, was Giglio's father.

Glum. It's Prince Bulbo they are hanging, sire, not Prince Giglio.

Hed. You told me to hang the Prince, and I took the ugly one. I didn't, of course, think your Majesty intended to murder your own flesh and blood!

(King flings a plate at Hedzoff's head.) Ang. Heekaree-karee! (Faints.)

King. Turn the cock of the urn upon Her Royal Highness: the boiling water will revive her. (King looks at his watch, then at the clock in the parlour, then at the clock in the square, winds it up, shakes it, looks at it again.) The great question is, am I fast or am I slow? If I'm slow, we may as well go on with breakfast. If I'm fast, why, there is just the possibility of saving Prince Bulbo. It's a doosid awkward mistake, and upon my word, Hedzoff, I have the greatest mind to have you hanged too.

Hed. Sire, I did but my duty; a soldier has but his orders. I didn't expect after fortyseven years of faithful service that my sovereign would think of putting me to a felon's death!

Ang. A hundred thousand plagues upon you! Can't you see that while you are talking my Bulbo is being hanged?

King. By Jove! she's always right, that girl, and I'm so absent (looking at his watch again). Ha! Hark! there go the drums! What a doosid awkward thing though!

Write the

Ang. O papa, you goose! reprieve, and let me run with it. (Gets a sheet of paper, and pen, and ink, and lays them before the King.)

King. Confound it! where are my spectacles? Angelica! go up into my bedroom, look under my pillow, not your mamma's, there you'll see my keys. Bring them down to me, and[Exit ANGELICA. Well, well! what impetuous things these girls are!

Re-enter ANGELICA

My dear, when you go out of a room, how often have I told you, shut the door. That's a darling! That's all.

(King mends his pen, and signs his name.) [Exit ANGELICA. King. You'd better stay, my love, and finish the muffins. There's no use going. Be sure it's too late. Hand me over that raspberry 80 jam, please. (Clock strikes.) There goes the half-hour. I knew it was.

Re-enter ANGELICA leading PRINCE BULBO in his shirt sleeves, with the rose in his mouth.

Ang. Here he is! Here he is! O my prince! my lord! my love! my Bulbo! Thine Angelica has been in time to save thy

precious existence, sweet rosebud: to prevent thy being nipped in thy young bloom! Had aught befallen thee, Angelica too had died, and welcomed death that joined her to her Bulbo.

Bulbo. H'm! there's no accounting for tastes. I tell you what it is, Angelica, since I came here yesterday there has been such a row, and disturbance, and quarrelling, and fighting, and chopping of heads off, and the deuce to pay, that I am inclined to go back to Crim Tartary.

Ang. But with me as thy bride, my Bulbo! Though wherever thou art is Crim Tartary to me, my bold, my beautiful, my Bulbo!

Bulbo. Well, well, I suppose we must be married, doctor; you came to read the funeral service, read the marriage service, will you? What must be, must. That will satisfy Angelica, and then, in the name of peace and quietness, do let us go back to breakfast.