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Sur. I had rather want those, than my head. Have

Enter Cromwell, amazedly. at you.—

Why, how now,

First, that without the king's assent or knowledge, Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
You wrought to be a legate ; by which power


What! amaz'd
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder,
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus

I am fallen indeed.
Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king Crom.

How does your grace? To be your servant.


Why, well: Suf.

Then, that without the knowledge Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. Either of king or council, when you went

I know myself now; and I feel within me Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold

A peace above all earthly dignities, To carry into Flanders the great seal.

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, Sur. Item, you sent a large commission

I humbly thank his grace, and from these shoulders, To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,

These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken Without the king's will or the state's allowance, A load would sink a navy-too much honour. A league between his highness and Ferrara.

0! 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, Suf. That out of mere ambition you have caus'd Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub

use of it. stance,

Wol. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, (By what means got I leave to your own conscience) (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways

To endure more miseries, and greater far, You have for dignities; to the mere undoing Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. Of all the kingdom. Many more there are ;

What news abroad? Which, since they are of you, and odious,


The heaviest, and the worst, I will not taint my mouth with.

Is your displeasure with the king.

O my lord !

God bless him!
Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue.

Crom. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen His faults lie open to the laws: let them,

Lord Chancellor in your place. Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him Wol.

That's somewhat sudden;
So little of his great self.

But he's a learned man. May he continue
I forgive him.

Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's farther pleasure is,- For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his bones,
Because all those things, you have done of late When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
By your power legatine within this kingdom,

May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em !
Fall into the compass of a præmunire, -

What more? That therefore such a writ be sued against you;

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,

Install'd lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be

Wol. That's news indeed ! Out of the king's protection. This is my charge.


Last, that the lady Anne,
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
How to live better. For your stubborn answer, This day was view'd in open, as his queen,
About the giving back the great seal to us,

Going to chapel; and the voice is now
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you. Only about her coronation.
So, fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.

Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down.
[Exeunt all but Wolsey. O Cromwell !
Wol. So, farewell to the little good you bear me. The king has gone beyond me: all my glories
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! In that one woman I have lost for ever.
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth

No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms, Or gild again the noble troops that waited
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;

I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
* And,—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;
His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root,

(That sun, I pray, may never set !) I have told him And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur’d,

What, and how true thou art : he will advance thee.
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, Some little memory of me will stir him,
This many suminers in a sea of glory,

(I know his noble nature) not to let
But far beyond my depth : my high blown pride Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
At length broke under me; and now has left me, Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
Weary and old with service, to the mercy

For thine own future safety.
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.


0, my lord ! and glory of this world, I hate ye: Must I then leave you ? must I needs forego I feel my heart new open'd. O! how wretched So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours. Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron, There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

The king shall have my service; but my prayers, and fears than wars or women have; For ever and for ever, shall be yours. And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear Never to hope again.

In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me,

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Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell : Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall'st, o CromAnd, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Of me more must be heard of,—say, I taught thee, Serve the king; and,—Pr'ythee, lead me in:
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, There take an inventory of all I have,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, To the last penny; 'tis the king's : my robe,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; And my integrity to heaven, is all
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell !
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, Have left me naked to mine enemies.
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?

Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee: Wol.

So I have.-- Farewell Corruption wins not more than honesty.

The hopes of court : my hopes in heaven do dwell. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

[Exeunt. To silence envious tongues : be just, and fear not.



SCENE I.-A Street in Westminster.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

A lively flourish of Trumpets. 1 Gent. You're well met once again.

1. Then, two Judges. 2 Gent. So are you.

2. Lord Chancellor, with purse and mace before him. 1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and 3. Choristers singing.

Music. behold

4. Mayor of London bearing the mace. Then, Garter The lady Anne pass from her coronation ?

in his coat of arms; and on his head he wore a 2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter, gilt copper crown. The duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 5. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold; on his

1 Gent. 'Tis very true ; but that time offer'd sorrow, head a demi-coronal of gold. With him the Earl This, general joy.

of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove ; 2 Gent. "Tis well: the citizens,

crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS. I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds; 6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward

his head, bearing a long white wand, as highIn celebration of this day with shows,

steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with Pageants, and sights of honour.

the rod of marshalship; a coronet on his head. 1 Gent.

Never greater;

Collars of ss. Nor, I'll assure you, better ken, sir.

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ; under it, 2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,

the Queen in her robe ; in her hair, richly adorned That paper in your hand?

with pearl, crowned.

On each side her, the 1 Gent. Yes; 'tis the list

Bishops of London and Winchester. Of those that claim their offices this day,

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, By custom of the coronation.

wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train. The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims

9. Certain Ladies Countesses, with plain circlets of To be high steward : next, the duke of Norfolk,

gold without flowers. He to be earl marshal. You may read the rest. 2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — These I know: 2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those Who's that, that bears the sceptre ? customs,

1 Gent. I should have been beholding to your paper.

And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine, 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman. That should be The princess dowager? how goes her business? The duke of Suffolk. 1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop I Gent.

'Tis the same; high-steward. Of Canterbury, accompanied with other

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk ? Learned and reverend fathers of his order,

1 Gent.

Yes. Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off

2 Gent. Heaven bless thee! [Looking on the Queen. From Ampthill, where the princess lay ; to which Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd 01.She was often cited by them, but appear'd not: Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel : And, to be short, for not appearance, and

Our king has all the Indies in his arms, The king's late scruple, by the main assent

And more, and richer, when he strains that lady. Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,

I cannot blame his conscience. And the late marriage made of none effect :

1 Gent. Since which she was removed to Kimbolton, Where she remains now, sick.

The cloth of honour over her, are four barons

Of the cinque-ports. 2 Gent.

Alas, good lady !- 2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are [Trumpets.

near her. The trumpets sound : stand close, the queen is coming. I take it, she that carries up the train

[Hautboys. Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

Marquess Dorset:

They, that bear

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1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. However, yet there's no great breach : when it comes, 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. indeed;

2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you ? And sometimes falling ones.

3 Gent.

Thomas Cromwell; 1 Gent.

No more of that. A man in much esteem with the king, and truly [Exit Procession, with a great flourish of A worthy friend.-- The king has made him Trumpets.

Master o' the jewel-house,
Enter a third Gentleman.

And one, already, of the privy-council.
God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling ? 2 Gent. He will deserve more.
3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a 3 Gent.

Yes, without all doubt. finger

Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled

Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests : With the mere rankness of their joy.

Something I can command. As I walk thither, 2 Gent. You saw the ceremony?

I'll tell ye more. 3 Gent. That I did,



may command us, sir. [Exeunt. 1 Gent. How was it?

SCENE II.--Kimbolton, 3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

Enter Katharine, Dowager, sick; led between Grif2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.

Fith and PATIENCE. 3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream, Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen

Grif. How does your grace ? To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off


0, Griffith! sick to death : A distance from her; while her grace sat down My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, To rest a while, some half an hour or so,

Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair. In a rich chair of state, opposing freely

[Sits down. The beauty of her person to the people.

So,—now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman

Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, That ever lay by man : which when the people That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey, Had the full view of, such a noise arose

Was dead? As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,

Grif. Yes, madam ; but, I think, your grace, As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. (Doublets, I think) flew up; and had their faces Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died : Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, I never saw before. Great-bellied women,

For my example. That had not half a week to go, like rams


Well, the voice goes, madam : In the old time of war, would shake the press, For after the stout earl Northumberland And make them reel before them. No man living Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, Could say, “This is my wife," there; all were woven As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, So strangely in one piece.

He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, 2 Gent. But, what follow'd ?

He could not sit his mule. 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest Kath.

Alas, poor man! paces

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester; Came to the altar; where she kneel’d, and saint like Lodg'd in the abbey, where the reverend abbot, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. With all his convent, honourably receiv'd bim; Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people : To whom he gave these words,—“O father abbot, When by the archbishop of Canterbury

An old man, broken with the storms of state, She had all the royal makings of a queen;

Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

Give him a little earth for charity!”
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Laid nobly on her: which perform’d, the choir, Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,

About the hour of eight, which he himself
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,

Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
And with the same full state pac'd back again Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
To York-place, where the feast is held.

He gave his honours to the world again, 1 Gent.


His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. You must no more call it York-place, that's past ; Kath. So may he rest : his faults lie gently on him ! For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost:

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, 'Tis now the king's, and call'd—Whitehall.

And yet with charity:-He was a man 3 Gent.

I know it; Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name

Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion Is fresh about me.

Tied all the kingdom : simony was fair play; 2 Gent.

What two reverend bishops His own opinion was his law: i’ the presence Were those that went on each side of the queen ? He would say untruths, and be ever double, 3 Gent. Stokesley and Gardiner; the one of Win- Both in his words and meaning. He was never, chester,

But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary ;

His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; The other, London.

But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
2 Gent.
He of Winchester

Of his own body he was ill, and gave
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, The clergy ill example.
The virtuous Cranmer.


Noble madam, 3 Gent.

All the land knows that, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues


O my lord!

We write in water. May it please your highness Possess your fancy.
To hear me speak his good now?


Bid the music leave, Kath.

Yes, good Griffith; They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases. I were malicious else.


Do you note,
This cardinal,

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. And of an earthy coldness? Mark her eyes ! He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one;

Grif. She is going, wench. Pray, pray. Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading :


Heaven comfort her! Lofty and sour to them that lov’d him wot;

Enter a Messenger.
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer: Mess. An't like your grace, -
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,


You are a saucy fellow: (Which was a sin) yet in bestowing, madam,

Deserve we no more reverence ? He was most princely. Ever witness for him


You are to blame, Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you, Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, Ipswich, and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, To use so rude behaviour: go to; kneel. Unwilling to outlive the good man did it;

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon ; The other, though unfinish’d, yet so famous,

Kneeling. So excellent in art, and still so rising,

My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. A gentleman, sent from the king to see you. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;

Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow For then, and not till then, he felt himself,

Let me ne'er see again. And found the blessedness of being little :

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. And, to add greater honours to his age

Re-enter GRIFFITH, with Capucius. Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

If my sight fail not, Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, No other speaker of my living actions,

My royal nephew; and your name Capucius. To keep mine honour from corruption,

Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
With thy religious truth and modesty,

With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him !- What is your pleasure with me?
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower :


Noble lady,
I have not long to trouble thee.—Good Griffith, First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note

The king's request that I would visit you;
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating

Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sends you his princely commendations,

[Sad and solemn music. And heartily entreats you take good comfort. Grif. She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet, Kath. O! my good lord, that comfort comes too late : For fear we wake her :-softly, gentle Patience. 'Tis like a pardon after execution. The l'ision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;

six Personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their How does his highness? faces ; branches of bays, or palm, in their hands. They Сар.

Madam, in good health. first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain Kath. So may he ever do; and ever flourish, changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her when I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name head; at which, the other four make reverend curtesies: Banish'd the kingdom.- Patience, is that letter, then, the two that held the garland deliver the same I caus'd you write, yet sent away? to the other next two, who observe the same order in Pat,

No, madam. [Giving it to Katharine. their changes, and holding the garland over her head. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver Which done, they deliver the same garland to the last This to my lord the king. two, who likewise observe the same order : at which, Cap.

Most willing, madam. (as it were by inspiration) she makes in her sleep Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven. The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:And so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! garland with them. The music continues.

Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding. Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all She is young, and of a noble modest nature, gone,

[Waking. I hope, she will deserve well; and a little And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Grif. Madam, we are here.

Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Kath.

It is not you I call for. Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Saw ye none enter, since I slept?

Upon my

women, that so long,

None, madam. Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Kath. No! Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop of which there is not one, I dare avow,
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ?

(And now I should not lie) but will deserve,

For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
They promis'd me eternal happiness,

For honesty, and decent carriage,
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly.

A right good husband, let him be a noble;
Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest,

And, sure

, those men are happy that shall have them.

But poverty could never draw them from me;-
That they may have their wages duly 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,
As 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 us'd with honour: 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

queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. I can no more. [Exeunt, leading Katharine.



There are that dare; and I myself have ventur’d SCENE I.--A Gallery in the Palace.

To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day, Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Sir, I may tell it you) I think, I have

Torch before him; met by Sir Thomas Lovell. Incens'd the lords o' the counsel, that he is
Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?

(For so I know he is, they know he is) Boy.

It bath struck. A most arch heretic, a pestilence Gar. These should be hours for necessities, That does infect the land : with which they moved Not for delights; times to repair our nature

Have broken with the king; who hath so far With comforting repose, and not for us

Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace To waste these times.-Good hour of night, sir Thomas: And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs Whither so late?

Our reasons laid before him) hath commanded, Lov.

Came you from the king, my lord ? To-morrow morning to the council-board
Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
With the duke of Suffolk.

And we must root him out. From your affairs
I must to him too,

I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas.
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Lov. Many good nights, my lord. I rest your Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?


[Exeunt Gardiner and Page. It seems you are in haste : an if there be

As Lovell is going out, enter the King, and the Duke No great offence belongs to't, give your friend

of SUFFOLK. Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night: (As, they say, spirits do) at midnight have

My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me. In them a wilder nature, than the business

Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before. That seeks despatch by day.

K. Hen. But little, Charles ; Lov.

My lord, I love you,

Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play.And durst commend a secret to your ear

Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news? Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour; Lov. I could not personally deliver to her They say, in great extremity, and fear’d,

What you commanded me, but by her woman She'll with the labour end.

I sent your message; who return'd her thanks Gar.

The fruit she


with In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your highness I pray for heartily ; that it may find

Most heartily to pray for her. Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas, K. Hen.

What say'st thou ? ha! I wish it grubb’d up now.

To pray for her? what! is she crying out ?
Methinks, I could

Lov. So said her woman; and that her sufferance Cry thee amen; and yet my conscience says

made She's a good creature, and," sweet lady, does

Almost each pang a death. Deserve our better wishes.

K. Hen.

Alas, good lady!
But, sir, sir, —

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
Hear me, sir Thomas : y'are a gentleman

With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; Your bighness with an heir !
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,

K. Hen.

'Tis midnight, Charles : 'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,

Pr’ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone, Sleep in their graves.

For I must think of that, which company Lov.

Now, sir, you speak of two Would not be friendly to. The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell, Suf.

I wish your highness Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master A quiet night; and my good mistress will O'the rolls, and the king's secretary; farther, sir,

Remember in my prayers.
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, K. Hen. Charles, good night.- [Exit Suffolk.
With which the time will load him. Th’ archbishop

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
Is the king's hand, and tongue; and who dare speak Well, sir, what follows ?
One syllable against him?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, Gar.

Yes, yes, sir Thomas, As you commanded me.



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