ACT V. SCENE 1.

London. A gallery in the palace

Enter GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, a PAGE with a torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS LOVELL

  GARDINER. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
  BOY. It hath struck.
  GARDINER. These should be hours for necessities,
    Not for delights; times to repair our nature
    With comforting repose, and not for us
    To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!
    Whither so late?
  LOVELL. Came you from the King, my lord?
  GARDINER. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero
    With the Duke of Suffolk.
  LOVELL. I must to him too,
    Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
  GARDINER. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
    It seems you are in haste. An if there be
    No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
    Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk-
    As they say spirits do-at midnight, have
    In them a wilder nature than the business
    That seeks despatch by day.
  LOVELL. 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.
  GARDINER. The fruit she goes with
    I pray for heartily, that it may find
    Good time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
    I wish it grubb'd up now.
  LOVELL. Methinks I could
    Cry thee amen; and yet my conscience says
    She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
    Deserve our better wishes.
  GARDINER. But, sir, sir-
    Hear me, Sir Thomas. Y'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.
  LOVELL. Now, sir, you speak of two
    The most remark'd i' th' kingdom. As for Cromwell,
    Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master
    O' th' Rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir,
    Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,
    With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop
    Is the King's hand and tongue, and who dare speak
    One syllable against him?
  GARDINER. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
    There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'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' th' 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-hath commanded
    To-morrow morning to the Council board
    He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
    And we must root him out. From your affairs
    I hinder you too long-good night, Sir Thomas.
  LOVELL. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant.
                                             Exeunt GARDINER and PAGE

Enter the KING and the DUKE OF SUFFOLK

  KING. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
    My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.
  SUFFOLK. Sir, I did never win of you before.
  KING. But little, Charles;
    Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
    Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?
  LOVELL. 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 great'st humbleness, and desir'd your Highness
    Most heartily to pray for her.
  KING. What say'st thou, ha?
    To pray for her? What, is she crying out?
  LOVELL. So said her woman; and that her suff'rance made
    Almost each pang a death.
  KING. Alas, good lady!
  SUFFOLK. God safely quit her of her burden, and
    With gentle travail, to the gladding of
    Your Highness with an heir!
  KING. 'Tis midnight, Charles;
    Prithee to bed; and in thy pray'rs remember
    Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone,
    For I must think of that which company
    Will not be friendly to.
  SUFFOLK. I wish your Highness
    A quiet night, and my good mistress will
    Remember in my prayers.
  KING. Charles, good night. Exit SUFFOLK

Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY

    Well, sir, what follows?
  DENNY. Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop,
    As you commanded me.
  KING. Ha! Canterbury?
  DENNY. Ay, my good lord.
  KING. 'Tis true. Where is he, Denny?
  DENNY. He attends your Highness' pleasure.
  KING. Bring him to us. Exit DENNY
  LOVELL. [Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake.
    I am happily come hither.

Re-enter DENNY, With CRANMER

  KING. Avoid the gallery. [LOVELL seems to stay]
    Ha! I have said. Be gone.
    What! Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY
  CRANMER. [Aside] I am fearful-wherefore frowns he thus?
    'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
  KING. How now, my lord? You do desire to know
    Wherefore I sent for you.
  CRANMER. [Kneeling] It is my duty
    T'attend your Highness' pleasure.
  KING. 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, 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 consider'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 Tow'r. You a brother of us,
    It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
    Would come against you.
  CRANMER. I humbly thank your Highness
    And am right glad to catch this good occasion
    Most throughly to be winnowed where my chaff
    And corn shall fly asunder; for I know
    There's none stands under more calumnious tongues
    Than I myself, poor man.
  KING. Stand up, good Canterbury;
    Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
    In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up;
    Prithee let's walk. Now, by my holidame,
    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
    Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you
    Without indurance further.
  CRANMER. Most dread liege,
    The good I stand on is my truth and honesty;
    If they shall fail, I with mine enemies
    Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
    Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
    What can be said against me.
  KING. Know you not
    How your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world?
    Your enemies are many, and not small; their practices
    Must bear the same proportion; and not ever
    The justice and the truth o' th' question carries
    The due o' th' verdict with it; at what ease
    Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
    To swear against you? Such things have been done.
    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.
  CRANMER. God and your Majesty
    Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
    The trap is laid for me!
  KING. Be of good cheer;
    They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
    Keep comfort to you, and this morning see
    You do appear before them; if they shall chance,
    In charging you with matters, to commit you,
    The best persuasions to the contrary
    Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
    Th' occasion shall instruct you. If entreaties
    Will render you no remedy, this ring
    Deliver them, and your appeal to us
    There make before them. Look, the good man weeps!
    He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest Mother!
    I swear he is true-hearted, and a soul
    None better in my kingdom. Get you gone,
    And do as I have bid you.
                                                         Exit CRANMER
    He has strangled his language in his tears.

Enter OLD LADY

  GENTLEMAN. [Within] Come back; what mean you?
  OLD 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 shade thy person
    Under their blessed wings!
  KING. Now, by thy looks
    I guess thy message. Is the Queen deliver'd?
    Say ay, and of a boy.
  OLD LADY. Ay, ay, my liege;
    And of a lovely boy. The God of Heaven
    Both now and ever bless her! '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.
  KING. Lovell!

Enter LOVELL

  LOVELL. Sir?
  KING. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen. Exit
  OLD LADY. An hundred marks? By this light, I'll ha' more!
    An ordinary groom is for such payment.
    I will have more, or scold it out of him.
    Said I for this the girl was like to him! I'll
    Have more, or else unsay't; and now, while 'tis hot,
    I'll put it to the issue. Exeunt