Enter GUILDFORD, behind. Cran. Why? Keep. Your grace must wait, till must wait, till you be call'd for. Cran. So. Guil. This is a piece of malice. I am glad, Cran. It is [Exit GUILDFORd. Sir Henry Guildford: As he past along, How carnestly he cast his eyes upon me! 'Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain, This is of purpose laid, by some that hate me, To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me Wait else at door; a fellow-counsellor, Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. SCENE III. The Council-chamber. [Exit CRANMER, The King's chair, raised, in the centre,-the Lord Chancellor at the upper end of the table on the left hand,a seat left void on the right, as for the Archbishop of CANTERBURY.-NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, SURREY, Chamberlain, GARDINER, LOVEL, in order on each side, and CROMWELL at the table, as Secretary,— discovered. Gard. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council? Crom. Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Crom. Yes. Keep. My lord archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Nor. Let him come in. Keep. Your grace may enter now. Enter CRANMER.-Exit Keeper. Nor. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry You've misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, With new opinions, Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies, Gard. Which reformation must be sudden too, 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 Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart "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. Suf. Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. Gard. My lord, because we have business of more 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; you, Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank For what they have been: 't is a cruelty, Gard. Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Crom. Why, my lord? Gard. Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new sect? ye are not sound. Crom. Not sound? Gard. Not sound, I say. Crom. 'Would you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Remember your bold life too. Cham. This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords. Crom. And I. Gard. Then thus for you, my lord,—it stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner; Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? Gard. What other Would you expect? You're strangely troublesome : Let some o' the guard be ready there. Enter the Keeper of the Council-chamber. Cran. For me? Must I go like a traitor thither? Gard. Receive him, And see him safe i' the Tower. Cran. Stay, good my lord. I have a little yet to say.— Look there, my lords: [Rises. [Exit the Keeper. [They all rise, and look at the ring.] By virtue of that ring, I take my cause Suf. 'Tis no counterfeit. ye all, Sur. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told 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! Enter the King, frowning on them; when he takes his seat, they all sit. Gard. (Rises.) Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven 4 In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; His royal self in judgement comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender, [Sits. King. You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flatteries now.-Good man, sit down:- Than but once think this place becomes thee not. [GARDINER sits. Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Nor. 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; 1 am sure, in me. King. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well; he's worthy of it. |