Being of those virtues vacant. What can be said against me. I fear nothing K. Hen. Know you not how Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world? Your enemies Are many, and not small; their practices Must bear the same proportion: and not ever1 Cran. Be of good cheer; K. Hen. 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 The 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! His language in his tears. Enter an old Lady. Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter at a window above, the King and Butts. Butts. There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys. K. Hen. 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER. [Exeunt. 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, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? Crom. Nor. Yes. Who waits there? Yes. D. Keep. Without, my noble lords? Gar. 2 H D. Keep. My lord archbishop; | But reverence to your calling makes me modest. And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty, (For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions, 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; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them, Till they obey the manage. If we suffer To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, Gar. 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, Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, You are always my good friend; if your will pass, (1) ' In singleness of heart.' Acts ii. 40. Gar. Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Crom. Why, my lord? Gar. Not sound, I say. Not sound? Would you were half so honest; Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Gar. I shall remember this bold language. Crom. Remember your bold life too. Chan. Do. This is too much; I have done. Forbear, for shame, my lords. I take it, by all voices, that forthwith Is there no other way of mercy, some. Let some o'the guard be ready there. Cran. And see him safe i'the Tower. Cran. For me? Receive him, Stay, good my lords, I have a little vet to say. Look there, my lords; By virtue 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 master. 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? That holy duty, out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: Than but once think his place becomes thee not. K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me. At chamber-door? and one as great as you are? Chan. Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Am, for his love and service, so to him. I have a suit which you must not deny me; Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you? Gar. And brother-love, I do it. With a true heart, And let Heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ve rascals: Do you take the court for Paris garden ?2 ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.' [Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, ye rude rascals? Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impos sible (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons,) Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or 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 together. Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That fire-drake did I hit 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 railed upon me till her pink'd norringers fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, Clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, true heart. The common voice, I see, is verified where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter- staff with me, 'I defied them still; when suddenly bury (1) It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children. (2) The bear-garden on the Bank-side. (3) Roaring. a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered mine honour in, and let them win the work: The | With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! devil was amongst them, I think, surely. Into whose hands I give thy life. Cran. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to I endure. I have some of them in limbo patrum,' and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Cham. As I live, Amen. thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, Let me speak, sir, Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. [Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Enter trumpets, Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, ter marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else. SCENE IV.-The Palace." [Exeunt. ror, bearing great standing-bowls, for the christen- That were the servants to this chosen infant, ing gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a can-Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; opy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, god- Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, mother, bearing the Child, richly habited in a His honour and the greatness of his name mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady; then fol- Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish, lows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god- And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches mother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about To all the plains about' him:-Our children's the stage, and Garter speaks. Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. Flourish. Enter King, and Train. children Shall see this, and bless Heaven. K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders. Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, the good queen, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :- K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; Cran. K. Hen. Elizabeth. - Stand up, lord.. (1) Place of confinement. (2) A dessert of whipping. (3) Black leather vessels to hold beer. She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, (6) This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession Tof king James. 'TIS ten to one, this play can never please For such a one we show'd them: If they smile, The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the splendor of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtuous distress of Katharine, have furnished some scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written. JOHNSON. |