Lady. An hundred marks! By this light, I'll have more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. I will have more, or else unsay't; and now [Exeunt. SCENE II. Lobby before the council-chamber. Enter Cranmer; Servants, Door-keepers, &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 for. Cran. Enter Doctor Butts. So. Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad, [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 me Wait else at door; a fellow-counsellor, Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their plea sures 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,- day. K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it? Butts. 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, [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 seut being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seut themselves in order on cuch side. Cromwell at the lower end, as secretary. Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council? Please your honours, Crom. The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? My lord archbishop; 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 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; 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, progress Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, Suf. Nay, my lord, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' plea sure, And our consent, for better trial of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower; * In singleness of heart.' Acts, ii. 46. VOL. VI. F Where, being but a private man again, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, You are always my good friend; if your will pass, 'Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord, 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, Gar. Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Crom. Of this new sect? ye are not sound. Crom. Not sound? 'Would you were half so honest; Gar. Not sound, I say. Crom. Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Remember your bold life too. Chan. Forbear, for shame, my lords. Gar. Do. This is too much; I have done. |