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Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. An't like your grace,

Kath. You are a saucy fellow :

Deserve we no more reverence?

Grif. You are to blame,

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 me ;That they may have their wages duly paid

them,

And something over to remember me by; If Heaven bad pleas'd to have given me longer life,

And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents:-Aud, good my lord,

By that you love the dearest in this world,

Knowing, she will not lose her wonted great. As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,

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next,

[me

The king's request that I would visit you;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by
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 tine, had cur'd me; But now I ain past all comforts bere, 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

Lame

Banish'd the kingdom !-Patience, is that letter, I cans'd you write, yet sent away?

Put. No, madain.(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 daughter: +

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on ber!

Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature;

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Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king

To do me this last right.

Cap. By heaven, I will;

Remember [me

Or let me loose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord.
In all bumility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death 1 bless'd
bim,

For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Grithith, 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

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.--

[Exeunt leading KATHARINE.

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

Lou. 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,

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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 highuess 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 I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

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,

Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two

The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Cromwell,

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made mas

ter

O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, Sir,

Stands in the gap and trade of more prefer.

ments,

With which the time will load him: The arch

Suf. I wish your highness

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

K. Hen. Charles, good night.

[Erit SUFFOLL.

Enter Sir ANTHONY DENNY.

Well, Sir, what follows?

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

As you commanded me.

K. Hen. Ha! Canterbury ?

Den. Ay, my good lord.

K. Hen. 'Tis true: Where is he, Denny!
Den. He attends your bighness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Bring him to us. [Erit DENNY.
Lov. This is about that which the bishop
spake ;

I am happily come hither.

[Aride

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER. K. Hen. Avoid the gallery.

[LOVELL seems to stay.

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare Ha!-I have said.-Begone.

bishop speak

One syllable against him?

Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that dare; and I myself have ven

tur'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,) be hath commanded,

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

From your affairs night, Sir Thomas. my lord; I rest

And we must root him out. I hinder you too long: good Lov. Many good nights, 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 tonight;

My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles ;
Nor shall not, when iny 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
highness

Most heartily to pray for her.

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What! [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY. Cran. I am fearful :-Wherefore frowns be thus ?

'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.

K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to know

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,

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
of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

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 calumniosa
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 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

• One of the council

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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
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cras. God and your majesty

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!

K. Hen. Be of good cheer;

They shall no more prevail, than we give way

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bring

Will make my boldness manners.-Now, good angels

Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person Under their blessed wings!

K. Hen. Now, by thy looks

I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd ? Say, ay; and of a boy.

Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ;

And of a lovely boy: The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her I-'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be

Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.

K. Hen. Lovell,

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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 laid by some that hate me,
(God turn their hearts! I never songht their
malice,)

To quench mine honour they would shame to make me

Wait else at door; a fellow counsellor,
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys.

pleasures

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But their

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 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 pursuiPages, and footboys.

vants,

K. Hen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed : Is this the honour they do one another ? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had

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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 seat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of CANTERBURY. The rest seat themselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at the lower end, as secretary. Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary Why are we met in council?

Crom. Please your honours,

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,

The chief cause concerns his grace of Cauter-You are so merciful: 1 see your end,

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D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

'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 has done half an hour, to know your plea- But reverence to your calling makes me me

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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, inay 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 diecovers,

To men that understand you, words and weak

ness.

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 favoarer
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 sickness,

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

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,

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 nian, 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,

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

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By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, To a most noble judge, the king my master. 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. Gar. My lord, because we have business of

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Cham. This is the king's ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told

ye all,

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.

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By all that's holy, he had better starve,

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

Port. You'll leave your noise anou, 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 banged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch

Than but once think his place becomes thee me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones;

Dot.

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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

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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, t to mow them down before me : either young or old, he or she, cuckold or but if I spared any, that had a head to hit, cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

[Within.] Do you hear, master Porter ? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, Sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all toge

ther.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he science, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's should be a brazier by his face, for o'my con

nose; all that stand about him, are under the line, they need no other penance: That firedrake did I bit three times on the head, and

three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us.

There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I

The bear garden on the Bank-side.

+ Roaring.

Guy of Warwick, vanquished Colbrand the Danish Pink'd cap.

giant.

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