Ha!-I have faid-be gone. What! [Exeunt Lovell and Denny. SCENE 1II. Cran. I am much fearful: wherefore frowns he thus 'Tis his afpect of terror. King. How now, my Lord? you do defire to know Wherefore 1 fent for you. Cran. It is my duty T' attend your Highness' pleasure. King. Pray you rise, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Grievous complaints of you; which being confider'd, To make your house our Tower. You a brother of us, Would come against you. Cran. I humbly thank your Highnefs, And am right glad to catch this good occafion Moft thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And corn fhall fly afunder. For I know There's none ftands under more calumnious Than I myself, poor man. King. Stand up, good Canterbury... Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted tongues › In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, ftand up; F£3 3 Your if Yourself and your accusers, and have heard you Cran. Moft dread Liege, The good I ftand on is my truth and honefty. Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, King. Know you not How your ftate ftands i' th' world, with the whole world? Cran. God and your Majesty Protect mine innocence, or I fall into King. Be of good cheer; They fhall no more prevail, than we give way to.. Fail not to use, and with what vehemency Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them. Look, the good man weeps!! He's honeft, on mine honour. God's blefs'd mother! I fwear he is true-hearted; and a foul None better in my kingdom, Get you gone, And do as I have bid you. H'as ftrangled all his language in his tears. [Exit Cranmer. Enter Enter an Old Lady, Gen. [Within.] Come back; what mean you? I guefs thy meffage. Say Ay, and of a boy. Is the Queen deliver'd? Lady. Ay, ay, my Liege; And of a lovely boy; the God of heav'n Acquainted with this ftranger; 'tis as like you' King. Lovell! Lov. Sir. King. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen. [Exit King. Lady. An hundred marks! by this light, I'll ha' more.. An ordinary groom is for fuch payment. I will have more, or fcold it out of him. Have more, or else unfay't: now, while 'tis hot, I'll put it to the iffue. [Exit Lady. SCENE IV. Before the council-chamber. Enter Cranmer. Cran. I hope I'm not too late; and yet the Gentleman That was fent to me from the council, pray'd me To make great hafte. All faft? what means this? hoa? Who waits there? fure you know me? D. Keep. Your Grace must wait till you be call'd för. Enter Cran. So Enter Dolor Butts. I am glad [Exit Butts. Butts. This is a piece of malice. I came this way fo happily. The King Cran. 'Tis Butts, The King's phyfician. As he pafs'd along, Pray heav'n, he found not my disgrace! for certain, (God turn their hearts! I never fought their malice,) To querch mine honour: they would fhame to make me Wait elfe at door: a fellow-counsellor, 'Mong boys, and grooms, and lackeys! but their pleasures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter the King and Butts, at a window above. Butts. I'll fhew your Grace the strangest fight-- Butts. I think your Highnefs faw this many a day.. Butts. There, my Lord. The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, King. Ha! 'tis he indeed. Is this the honour they do one another? Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain clofe, SCENE SCENE V. The council. A council-table brought in, with chairs and fools, and placed under the ftate. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himfelf at the upper end of the table on the left hand, a feat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, and Gardiner, feat themfelves in order on each fide. Cromwell at the lower end, as Secretary. Chan. Speak to the bufinefs, Mr. Secretary: Why are we met in council? Crom. Please your Honours, The cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.. Crom. Yes. Nor. Who waits there? D. Keep.. Without, my Noble Lords? D. Keep. My Lord Archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleafures. 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 forry To fit here at this prefent, and behold That chair ftand empty. But we all are men In our own natures frail, and capable Of frailty, few are angels: from which frailty, Gard. Which reformation must be fudden too, But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and fpur 'em, Till they obey the manage. If we fuffer (Out of our eafiness and childish pity To. |