Being of those virtues vacant. What can be said against me. I fear nothing Know you not how K. Hen. Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world? Your enemies Are many, and not small; their practices Must bear the same proportion: and not ever! you 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. There make before them.-Look, the good man weeps! He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother! His language in his tears. K. Hen. Give her a hundred marks. I'll to [Exit King. the queen. Lady. A hundred marks! By this light, I'll have more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. [Exeunt. sures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter at a window above, the King and Butts. Butts. 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.[Exeunt. THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER. 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 grace of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? Crom. Nor. Yes. Who waits there? Yes. 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 My lord archbishop; But reverence to your calling makes me modest. Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty, (For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions, 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 To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' plea sure, And our consent, for better trial of you, Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, You are always my good friend; if your will pass, I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, You are so merciful: 1 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, (1) In singleness of heart.' Acts ii. 46. Gar. I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so. Crom. Gar. Not sound, I say. Not sound? 'Would you were half so honest; Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Gar. I shall remember this bold language. Crom. Remember your bold life too. Do. This is too much; I have done. Forbear, for shame, my lords. I take it, by all voices, that forthwith Is there no other way of mercy, some. Let some o'the guard be ready there. Cran. And see him safe i'the Tower. Cran. For me? Receive him, my cause Stay, good my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; By virtue of that ring, I take Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most noble judge, the king my master. Cham. This is the king's ring. Sur. "Tis no counterfeit. Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves. 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 fire that burns ye: Now have at ye. In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; That holy duty, out of dear respect, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought, I had men of some understanding And wisdom, of my council; but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, This good man (few of you deserve that title,) This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy At chamber-door? and one as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye Power, as he was a counsellor, to try him, Not as a groom: There's some of ye, I see, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Which ye shall never have, while I live. Chan. Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men) meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice; I am sure, in me. K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; I have a suit which you must not deny me; Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man. Gar. And brother-love, I do it. Cran. With a true heart, And let Heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.- SCENE III-The Palace Yard. Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do take the court for Paris garden ?2 ye rude you slaves, leave your gaping.3 [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 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 cannons,) 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 cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her. [Within.] Do you hear, master porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy-Keep the door close, sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? "Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there, like a mortar piece, to blow us. wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, Clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw There was a haberdasher's wife of small K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, true heart. The common voice, I see, is verified where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter-staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly bury (1) It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children. (2) The bear-garden on the Bank-side. (3) Roaring. a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw (4) Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant. (5) Pink'd cap. (6) The brazier. Scene IV. KING HENRY VIII. mine honour in, and let them win the work: The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in limbo patrum,|| and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles,2 that is to come. Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Port. As I live, Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. Flourish. Enter King, and Train. My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :- K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; K. Hen. Elizabeth. Stand up, lord.- (1) Place of confinement. (3) Black leather vessels to hold beer. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! I Amen. K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too Let me speak, sir, thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, with her: In her days, every man shall eat in safety From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, ror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, children Shall see this, and bless Heaven. To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. (6) This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James. "TIS ten to one, this play can never please For such a one we show'd them: If they smile, The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the splendor of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtuous distress, of Katharine, have furnished some scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written. JOHNSON. |