Imatges de pÓgina

A man that more detefts, more ftirs againft
(Both in his private confcience and his place)
Defacers of the publick peace, than I do.
Pray heav'n the King may never find a heart
With lefs allegiance in it! Men that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do befeech your lordships,
That in this cafe of juftice, my accufers,

Be what they will, may ftand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be; you are a counsellor,

And by that vertue no man dare accufe you.

Gard. My lord, because we've business of more mo


We will be short wi'you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure,
And our confent, for better tryal of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where being but a private man again,

You fhall know many dare accufe you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

Cran. Ay, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you,
You're always my good friend; if your will pafs,"
I fhall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful. I fee your end,
'Tis my undoing. Love and meeknefs, lord,
Become a church-man better than ambition:
Win ftraying fouls with modefty again,
Caft none away. That I fhall clear my felf,
(Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience)
I make as little doubt, as you do confcience
In doing daily wrongs. I could fay more,
But rev'rence to your calling makes me modeft.
Gard. My lord, my lord, you are a fectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted glofs discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too fharp; men fo noble,
However faulty, yet fhould find refpect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty
To load a falling man.


Gard. Good Mr, Secretary

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, fay fo..

Crom, Why, my lord?

Gard. Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new fect ye are not found.

Crom. Not found?

Gard. Not found, I say.

Crom. Would you were half fo honeft!

Mens prayers then would feek you, not their fears.
Gard. I fhall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.

Remember your bold life too.

Cham. This is too much

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Forbear, for fhame, my lords.
Gard. I've done.
Crom. And I.

Cham. Then thus for you, my lord: it ftands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith

You be convey'd to th' Tower a prifoner;-
There to remain till the King's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords ?:
All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of


But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords?

Gard. What other

Would you expect you're ftrangely troublesome : Let fome o'th' guard be ready there.

Cran. For me?

Enter the Guard.

Muft, I go like a traitor then?

Guard. Receive him,

And fee him fafe i'th' Tower.
Cran. Stay, good my lords,

I have a little yet to fay. Look there, lords;
By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the King my mafter.


Cham. This is the King's ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suf. 'Tis his right ring, by heav'n, I told ye all, When we first put this dang'rous ftone a rowling, 'Twould fall upon our felves.

Nor. D'you think, my lords,

The King will fuffer but the little finger
Of this man to be yex'd?

Cham. 'Tis now too certain.

How much more is his life in value with him?
Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,
In feeking tales and informations
Against this man, whofe honefty the devil
And his difciples only envy at,

Ye blew the fire that burns ye; now have at ye.'


Enter King frowning on them, takes his feat.

Gard. Dread Sov'reign, how much are we bound to heav'n

In daily thanks, that gave us fuch a Prince;
Not only good and wife, but moft religious:
One that in all obedience makes the church
The chief aim of his honour, and to strengthen
That holy duty of our dear refpect,

His royal felf in judgment comes to hear
The caufe betwixt her and this great offender.

King. You're ever good at fudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear fuch flatt'ries 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 whatfoe'er thou tak'ft me for, I'm fure
Thou haft a cruel nature, and a bloody.

Good man, fit down: now let me fee the proudest.

[To Cran.


He that dares moft, but wag his finger at thee.
By all that's holy, he had better starve,

Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May't please your Grace-

King. No, Sir, it does not please me.
I thought I had men of understanding
And wifdom, of my council; but I find none.
Was it difcretion, lords, to let this man,

This good man, (few of you deserve that title)
This honeft man, wait like a lowfie foot-boy
At chamber door, and one as great as you are?
Why what a fhame was this? did my commiffion
Bid ye fo far forget your felves? I gave ye
Pow'r, as he was a counsellor, to try him,
Not as a groom. There's fome of ye, I fee,
More out of malice than integrity,

Would try him to the utmost, had ye means;
Which ye fhall never have, while I do live.

Cham. My moft dread Sovereign, may it like your


To let my tongue excuse all. Whas was purpos'd
Concerning his imprifonment, was rather,

If there be faith in men, meant for his tryal,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice;
I'm fure in me.

King. Well, well, my lords refpect him:
Take him, and ufe him well; he's worthy of it!
I will fay thus much for him, If a Prince
May be beholden to a fubject, I

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Am, for his love and fervice, fo to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be friends for shame, my lords. My lord of Canterburyi
I have a fuit which you must not deny me.

There is a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory In fuch an honour; how may I deferve it, That am a poor and humble fubject to you? King. Come, come, my lord, you'd fpare your fpoons: you shall have


Two noble partners with you: the old Dutchefs
Of Norfolk, and the lady Marquefs Dorfet.
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you
Embrace and love this man.

Gard. With a true heart
And brother's love I do it.
Cran. And let heav'n

Witnefs, how dear I hold this confirmation.

King. Good man, thofe joyful tears fhew thy true heart;

The common voice I fee is verify'd

Of thee, which fays thus: do my lord of Canterbury
But one fhrewd turn, and he's your friend for ever
Come, lords, we trifle time away: I long
To have this young one made a christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain:
So I grow ftronger, ye more honour gain.



Noife and tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.



Ou'll leave your noise anon, ye rafcals; do you take the court for Paris Garden? ye rude flaves, leave your gaping.

Within. Good Mr. Porter, I belong to th' larder. Port. Belong to the gallows and be hang'd, ye rogue: is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree ftaves, and ftrong ones; these are but switches to 'em: I'll fcratch your heads; you must be seeing chriftnings? do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?

Man. Pray Sir, be patient; 'tis as much impoffible (Unless we (wept them from the door with cannons) To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep On May-day morning, which will never be : We may as well pufh against Paul's, as ftir 'em. Port. How got they in, and be hang'd? Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in? As much as one found cudgel of four foot


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