For I must think of that, which Company Suf. I wish your Highness A quiet Night, and my good Mistress will King. Charles, Good Night: Well, Sir, what follows? Enter Sir Anthony Denny. [Exit Suffolk. 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? King. Bring him to us. [Exit Denny. Lov. This is about that which the Bishop spake. I am happily come hither. Enter Cranmer and Denny. King. Avoid the Gallery. [Afide. [Lovel feemeth to stay. Ha!I have faid-be gone. [Exeunt Lovel and Denny: Cran. I am fearful: Wherefore frowns he thus? 'Tis his Afpect of Terror. All's not well. King: How now, my Lord? You do defire to know, wherefore I fent for you. Cran. It is my Duty T'attend your Highnefs pleasure. King. Pray you arife, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury: Come, come, give me your Hand. Ah my good Lord, I grieve at what I fpeak, Which will require your Anfwer, you must take To make your Houfe our Tower; you, a Brother of us. Cran. I humbly thank your Highness, Chaff And am right glad to catch this good occafion, There's none ftands under more calumnious Tongues King. Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy Truth and thy Integrity is rooted In us, thy Friend. Give me thy hand, stand 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 State ftands i'th' World, with the whole World? Your Enemies are many, and not fmall; their Practices Must bear the fame proportion; and not ever The Juftice and the Truth o'th' question carries S Cran. God and your Majesty Protect mine Innocence, or I fall into King. Be of good Cheer, They shall no more prevail, than we give way to: Fail not to ufe; and with what vehemency There make before them. Look, the good Man weeps: I fwear 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 ftrangled all his Language in his Tears. Gent, within. Come back; what mean you? King. Now by thy Looks I guess thy Meffage. Is the Queen deliver'd? Lady. Ay, ay, my Liege; And of a lovely Boy; the God of Heaven Acquainted with this Stranger; 'tis as like you, King. Lovell. Lov. Sir. King. Give her an hundred Marks. I'll to the Queen. [Exit Kings Lady. Lady. An hundred Marks! By this Light, I'll ha' more. An ordinary Groom is for fuch Payment. I will have more, or fcold it out of him. Said I for this, the Girl was like to him? I'll Have more, or elfe unfay't: and now, while 'tis hot, SCENE II. Enter Cranmer. Cran. I hope I am not too late, and [Exit Lady yet the Gentleman That was fent to me from the Council, pray'd me To make great hafte. All faft? What means this? Hoa? Who waits there? Sure you know me ? Keep. Yes, my Lord; Enter Keeper. But yet I cannot help you. Cran. Why? Keep. Your Grace muft wait 'till you be call'd for. Cran. So. Enter Doctor Butts. Butts. This is a piece of Malice: I am glad I came this way fo haply. The King Shall understand it presently. Cran. 'Tis Butts, The King's Physician, as he paft along, How earneftly he caft his Eyes upon me; Exit Butts. Pray Heav'n he found not my Difgrace for certain (God turn their Hearts, I never fought their Malice) To quench mine Honour; they would fhame to make me Wait elfe at Door: A Fellow-Councellor 'Mong Boys, Grooms, and Lackeys! But their Pleasures Must be fulfilled, and I attend with Patience. Enter the King and Butts at a Window above. Butts. I'll fhew your Grace the ftrangeft fight... King. What's that, Butts? 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? A Council Table brought in with Chairs and Stools, and placed under the State. Enter Lord-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's Seat. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfok, Surrey, LordChamberlain, and Gardiner, feat themselves in Order on each fide. Cromwel at the lower end, as Secretary. Chan. Speak to the Bufinefs, Mr. Secretary: Why are we met in Council? Crom. Please your Honours, The chief Caufe concerns his Grace of Canterbury. Gard. Has he knowledge of it? Crom. Yes. Nor. Who waits there? Keep. Without, my Noble Lords? Gard. Yes. Keep. My Lord Archbishop; And has done half an hour, to know your Chan. Let him come in. Keep. Your Grace may enter now. Pleasures: [Cranmer approaches the Council Table. |