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To make great haste. All fast? what means this?

Who waits there?-Sure, you know me?
D. Kеер.

Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you.

D. Keep. Your grace must wait, till you

be call'd for.

Enter Doctor Butts.



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

'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


Wait else at door; a fellow counsellor,
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their

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.

K. Hen. Body o’me, where is it?

There, my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.
K. Hen.

Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: Is this the honour they do one another? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, They had parted so much honesty among them, (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 them alone, and draw the curtain close; We shall hear more anon.



Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of SUFFOLK,

Earl of SURREY, Lord Chamberlain, GARDINER, and CROMWELL. The Chancellor places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at the lower end, as secretary.

Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council? Crom.

Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his


of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it?

9 They had parted, &c.] We should now sayThey had shared, &c. i. e. had so much honesty among them.

draw the curtain close;] i. e. the curtain of the balcony, or upper stage, where the King now is.




Who waits there?
D. Keep. Without, my noble lords ?

Yes. D. Kеер.

My lord archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.

Chan. Let him come in.
D. Kеер.

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


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

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours, 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 labourd, 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 publick 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. 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 are always my good friend; if your


* The upper Germany, &c.] Alluding to the heresy of Thomas Muntzer, which sprung up in Saxony in the years 1521 and 1522.

a single heart,] A heart void of duplicity or guile.


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.

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 weakness.

Crom. 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.

Good master secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Why, my lord?
Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.

Not sound?
Gar. Not sound, I say.


you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.

Do. Remember


bold life too. Chan.

This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords.

your painted gloss, &c.] Those that understand you, under this painted gloss, this fair outside, discover your empty talk and your false reasoning.

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