(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have In them a wilder nature, than the business That seeks despatch by day.

Lov. My lord, I love you;

And durst commend a secret to your ear

Much weightier than this work. The queen's
in labour,

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.

Gar. The fruit she goes with,

I pray for heartily; that it may find

Good time, and live: but for the stock,
Thomas,

I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar. But, Sir, Sir,

K. Hen. What say'st thou ? haf
To pray for her? what, is she crying out!
Lov. So said her woman; and that her suffer.
ance made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen. Alas, good lady!

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles,

Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
Sir The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For 1 must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

ments,

With which the time will load him: The archbishop

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak

One syllable against him?

Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd

To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this
day,

Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence

That does infect the land: with which they
moved,

Have broken + with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mis-
chiefs

Our reasons laid before him,) he hath
manded,

To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed,
Thomas,

com

And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
Lou. Many good nights, my lord; I rest
your servant.

Suf. I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

K. Hen. Charles, good night.

[Exit SUFFOLK.

Wherefore I sent for you.

Cran. It is my duty,

To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. 'Pray you, arise,

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me
your hand,

Ah! my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-
sider'd,

Sir Have mov'd us, and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: You a brother
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
of us,*
Would come against you.

[Exeunt GARDINER and PAGE. As LOVELL is going out, enter the KING, and the Duke of SUFFOLK.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-
night;

My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suj. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the
news?

Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your
biglmess

Most heartily to pray for her.

Cran. I humbly thank your highness:
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And .corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious
tongues,

Than I myself, poor man.

K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy band, stand up;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I

look'd

You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together

One of the council.

Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard | Said I for this, the girl is like to him!

D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
Canter-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,

And bas done half an hour, to know your plea- But reverence to your calling makes me mo

sures.

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 tilling
The whole realm by your teaching, and your
chaplains,

(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;

dest.

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 weak

Dess.

Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a lit

tle,

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.

Gar. Good master secretary,

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

Crom. Why, my lord?

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
Crom. Not sound?

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest !

Men's prayers then would seek you, not their
fears.

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.

But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and Remember your bold life too.

spur them,

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

To one man's honour) this contagious sick

ness,

Farewell, all physic: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

Chan. This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar. I have done.

Crom. And 1.

Chan. Then thus for you, my lord,—It stands agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neigh-You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;

bours,

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 labour'd,
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 public peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men that 10ake
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,

Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lord

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, To a most noble judge, the king my master. And freely urge against me.

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 t '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 file that burns ye: Now have at

ye.

Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his seat.

Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we

They are too thin and base to hide offences.
To mne you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win

Now let

He, that dares most, but wag his finger at

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden? • ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. +

[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 theee 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?

K. Hen. No, Sir, it does not please me.
I thought I had bad men of some understand-
ing

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 lowsy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you

Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?
Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four fost
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, Sir.

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them down before me : either young or old, he or she, cuckold or but if I spared any, that had a bead to hit, pur-cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present giant. spoons to their god-children.

These lazy knaves ?-Ye have made a fine hand, Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,