Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance,
Continual meditions, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honors to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,-He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that by suggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law; I' the presence'
He would say untruths; and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning: He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: •
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?
Kath.
Grif. The cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honor. From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little : And, to add greater honors to his age, Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honor from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With thy religious truth, and modesty, Now in his ashes honor: Peace be with him! Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: I have not long to trouble thee.-Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to.
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two hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverend court'sies; then the two that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The
Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.
Kath.
It is not you I call for:
Saw ye none enter, since I slept?
Grif.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? They promis'd me eternal happiness; And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel Assuredly. I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,
Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. Kath. Bid the music leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases. Do you note,
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?
Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.
Pat.
Heaven comfort her?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. An't like your grace,Kath. Deserve we no more reverence? Grif. You are to blame, Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behavior: go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon: My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow Let me ne'er see again.
[Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger. Re-enter GRIFFITH with CAPUCIUS. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. Cap. Madam, the same, your servant. Kath. O, my lord. The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? Cap.
Noble lady, First, mine own service to your grace; the next, The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
"Tis like a pardon after execution: That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?
Cap.
Madam, in good health.
Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,
I raus'd you write, yet sent away'
y?
Pat.
No, madam.
[Giving it to KATHARINE.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.
Cap.
Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh-
ter;-
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a noble;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them
The last is, for my men:-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from mex-
That they may have their wages July paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents:-And, good my
lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,
you wish christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.
By heaven, I will;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be used with honor; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.- -[Exeunt, leading KATHARINE.
Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy.
Methinks, I could
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
Deserve our better wishes.
Gar.
But, sir, sir,-
Hear me, sir Thomas: you are a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,—
"Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
It hath struck.
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.-Good hour of night, sir Sleep in their graves.
Thomas!
Came you from the king, my lord? Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero With the duke of Suffolk.
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-
well,- ..
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him: The archbishop
Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak
It seems, you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
So:ne touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk
(As, they say, spirits do) at inidnight, have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
The 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
labor,
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 mischiefs,
Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded,
The fruit, she goes with, To-morrow morning to the council-board
for heartily; that it may find
They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labor end.
He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas, Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your affairs I wish it grubb'd up now. I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas. Told their minds to. • Summoned.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant. [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.
Suf. 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 desired your high-
Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, 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 Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you Without indurance, further.
Most dread liege,
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty;
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
K. Hen.
Know
you not how
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
The due o' the verdict with it: At what ease
The justice and the truth o' the question carries
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been done.
You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween' you of better luck,
I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
And woo your own destruction.
Cran.
God, and your majesty,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!
Be of good cheer,
They shall no more prevail, than we give way to
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
You do appear before them: if they shall chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them.-Look, the good man
Is this the honor they do one another?
'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought,
They had parted so much honesty amongst them,
(At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favor,
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.
Yes.
D. Keep.
My lord archbishop;
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
Yes, my lord; To sit here at this present, and behold
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.
Why?
D. Keep. Your grace must wait till you be call'd
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 honor: they would shame to make
Wait else at door; a fellow-counsellor,
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their
pleasures
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 dav.
That chair stand empty: But we all are men,
In our own natures frail; 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 into m'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
To one man's honor) this contagious sickness,
Farewell, all physic; And what follows then!
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbors,
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 labor'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 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.
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'
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,
You are always my good friend; if your will 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 favor, 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, cry your honor mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so.
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.
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.
Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his Seat. Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise, but most religious:
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honor; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender!
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commen
dations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
They are too thin and base to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach; you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.-
Good man, [To CRANMER.] sit down. Now let
me see the proudest
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all's that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace,-
No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought I had had men of some under standing
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
|