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Grievous complaints of you; which being confider'd,
Cran. I humbly thank your Highness,
There's none ftands under more calumnious tongues Than I my felf, poor man.
King. Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, ftand up,
Cran, Moft dread Liege,
The good I ftand on is my truth and honesty :
Will triumph o'er my perfon; which I weigh not,
What can be faid against me.
King. Know you not
How your ftate ftands i' th' world, with the whole world?
Your foes are many, and not fmall; their practices
Your'e potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Cran. God and your Majefty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
King. Be of good cheer,
They fhall no more prevail than we give way to:
Fail not to ule, and with what vehemency
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them. Look, the good man weeps! He's honeft on mine honour. God's blest mother!
I fwear he is true-hearted, and a foul
None better in my kingdom.
And do as I have bid you.
Get you gone,
He'as ftrangled all his language in his tears.
Enter an old Lady..
Gent. Within. Come back; what mean you? Lady. I'll not come back: the tidings that I bring Will make my boldness manners. Now good angels Fly o'er thy royal head, and fhade thy person
Under their bleffed wings!
King. Now by thy looks
I guess thy meffage.
Say ay, and of a boy.
Is the Queen deliver'd?.
Lady. Ay, ay, my Liege;
And of a lovely boy; the God of heav'n
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your Queen
Defires your visitation, and to be.
-'tis a girl,
Acquainted with this ftranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.
King. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen,
[Exit King. Lady. An hundred marks! by this light I'll ha' more. An ordinary groom is for fuch a payment. I will have more, or fcold it out of him. Said I for this, the girl was like him? I'll Have more, or elfe unfay't; now, while 'tis hot, I'll put it to the iffue. [Exit Lady.
Cran: Hope I'm not too late, and yet the gentleman
To make great hafte. All faft? what means this? hoa ? Who waits there? fure you know me?
Keep. Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you.'
Keep. Your Grace muft wait 'till you be call'd for, Enter Doctor Butts.
Butts. This is a piece of malice: I am glad
Cran. 'Tis Butts,
The King's phyfician; as he paft along,
How earnestly he caft his eyes upon me!
Wait elfe at door: a fellow-counsellor
'Mong boys and grooms and lackeys! but their pleafures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King and Butts at a window above.
Butts. I'll fhew your Grace the ftrangest sight
Butts. I think your Highness faw this many a day.
Butts. There, my lord:
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
King. Ha! 'tis he indeed.
Is this the honour they do one another?
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close.
A council table brought in with chairs and stools, and placed under the fate. Enter Lord-chancellor, places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand. A feat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord-chamberlain, and Gardiner, feat themselves in order on each fide. Cromwell at the lower end, as Secretary.
Chan. Speak to the bufinefs, Mr Secretary: Why are we met in council?
Crom. Please your Honours,
The cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury,
Gard. Has he knowledge of it?
Keep. My lord Arch-bishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures,
Chan. Let him come in.
Keep. Your Grace may enter now.
[Cranmer approaches the council table
Chan. My good lord Arch-bishop, I'm very forry To fit here at this prefent, and behold
That chair ftand empty: but we all are men
Of frailty, few are angels; from which frailty
Gard. Which reformation must be fudden too, My noble lords; for those that tame wild horfes Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, But ftop their mouths with stubborn bits, and fpur 'em 'Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our eafinefs and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness,
Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progrefs Both of my life and office, I have labour'd (And with no little ftudy) that my teaching And the ftrong courfe of my authority, Might go one way, and fafely; and the end Was ever to do well: nor is there living (I fpeak it with a fingle heart, my lords)