You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,'
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran. God, and your majesty, Protect mine innocence, or I fall into

The trap is laid for me!

K. Hen.

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's 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 an old Lady.

Gent. [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

7

Ween you of better luck,] To ween is to think, to imaginc. Though now obsolete, the word was common to all our an

cient writers.

Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings!

K. Hen.

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 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.

K. Hen.

Lovell,

Lov.

Enter LovEll.

Sir.

K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the

queen.

[Exit King. Lady. An hundred marks! By this light, I'll have

more.

An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl is 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.

Lobby before the Council-Chamber.

Enter CRANMER; Servants, Door-Keeper, &c. attending.

Cran. 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?

Hoa!

Who waits there?-Sure, you know me?

D. Keep.

But yet I cannot help you.

Cran.

Yes, my lord;

Why?

D. Keep. Your grace must wait, till you be call'd

Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad,
I came this way so happily: The king
Shall understand it presently.

Cran. [Aside.]

So.

[Exit BUTTS.

'Tis Butts,

The king's physician; as he past along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!

Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,
This is of purpose lay'd, 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,

Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter, at a Window above, the King and BUTTS.

Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight,-
K. Hen.
What's that, Butts?
Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a day.

at a window above,] The suspicious vigilance of our ancestors contrived windows which overlooked the insides of chapels, halls, kitchens, passages, &c. Some of these convenient peepholes, may still be found in colleges, and such ancient houses as have not suffered from the reformations of modern architecture.

Crom.

Nor.

Yes.

Who waits there?

Yes.

My lord archbishop;

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?

Gar.

D. Keep.

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-table. Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am 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 chap-
lains,

(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; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

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 physick; And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

— and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels: &c.] If this passage means any thing, it may mean, few are perfect, while they remain in their mortal capacity; i. e. while they are capable [in a condition] of being invested with flesh.