Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very forry To fit here at this prefent, and behold
That Chair ftand empty : But we all are Men In our own Natures frail, and capable
Of our Flesh, few are Angels; out of which Frailty And want of Wisdom, you that beft fhould teach us, Have misdemean'd your felf, and not a little: Toward the King first, then his Laws, in filling: The whole Realm, by your teaching and your Chaplains, (For fo we are inform'd) with new Opinions Divers and dangerous, which are Herefies; And not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
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 ftubborn Bits, and fpur 'em 'Till they obey the manage. If we fuffer, Out of our Eafinefs and childish Pity
To one Man's Honour, this contagious Sicknefs, Farewel all Phyfick: And what follows then? Commotions, Uproars, with a general taint Of the whole State: As of late Days our Neighbours, The Upper Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our Memories.
Cran. My good Lords; hitherto, in all the Progress Both of my Life and Office, I have labour'd, And with no little Study, 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) A Man that more detefts, more ftirs against, 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 beft. 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 accuse you.
Gard. My Lord, because we have Bufinefs of more moment, We will be fhort with 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. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you, You are always my good Friend; if your Will pafs, I fhall both find your Lordship Judge and Juror, You are fo merciful. I fee your end,
'Tis my undoing. Love and Meeknefs, Lord, Become a Church-man better than Ambition : Win ftraying Souls 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 say more, But Reverence to your Calling makes me modeft. Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary, That's the plain truth; your painted Glofs difcovers, To Men that understand you, words and weakness. Crom. My Lord of Winchester, you're a little, By your good favour, too fharp; Men fo Noble, How ever faulty, yet fhould find Respect For what they have been: 'Tis a Cruelty To load a falling Man.
Gard. Good Mr. Secretary,
I cry your Honour's 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 Sect? ye are not found.
Crom. Net found?
Gard. Not found, I fay.
Crom. Would you were half fo honeft:
Mens Prayers then would feek you, not their Fears.
Gard. I fhall remember this bold Language.
Remember your bold Life too.
Cham. This is too much;
Forbear for fhame, my Lords.
Gard. I have 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 Prisoner;
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 Mercy,
But I muft needs to th' Tower, my Lords?
Would you expect? You are ftrangely troublesome : Let fome o'th' Guard be ready there.
Muft I go like a Traitor thither?
Gard. Receive him.
And fee him fafe i'th' Tower.
Cran. Stay, good my Lords,
I have a little yet to fay. Look there, my Lords; By vertue of that Ring, I take my Cause
Out of the gripes of cruel Men, and give it To a moft Noble Judge, the King my Master. Cham. This is the King's Ring.
Gard. 'Tis no counterfeit,
Suf. 'Tis his right Ring, by Heav'n. I told ye all, When we first put this dang'rous Stone a rowling, 'Twould fall upon our felves.
Nor. Do you think, my Lords,
The King will fuffer but the little Finger
Of this Man to be vex'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 Seat. Gard. Dread Sovereign,
How much are we bound to Heaven,
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 Self in Judgment comes to hear The Caufe betwixt her and this
Offender. great King. You were ever good at fudden Commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear fuch Flattery now, and in my prefence, They are too thin and bafe 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 proudeft [To Cran, He that dares moft, but wag his Finger at thee,
By afl that's Holy, he had better ftarve,
Then but once think, this place becomes thee not, Sur. May it please your Grace,
King. No, Sir, it does not please me,
I had had thought I had Men of fome Understanding, And Wifdom, of my Council; but I find none: Was it difcretion, Lords, to let this Man,
Th's good Men, (few of you deferve the Title,) This honeft Mar, 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 Power, as he was a Counfellor, to try him, Not as a Groom; there's fame of ye, I fec, More out of Malice than Integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Which ye shall never have, while I do live. Cham. Thus far,
My moft dread Sovereign, may it like your Grace, To let my Tongue excufe all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather,
If there be faith in Men, meant for his Trial, And fair Purgation to the World, than Malice; I'm fure in me.
King. Well, well, my Lords, refpe& him; Take him, and ufe him well; he's worthy of it. I will fay thus much for him, if a Prince May be beholding to a Subject, I
Am, for his Love and Service, fo to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be Friends for shame, my Lords. My Lord of Canterbury, I have a Suit, which you must not deny me.
There is a fair young Maid that yet wants Baptifm, 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 Subject to you?
King. Come, come, my Lord, you'd fpare your Spoons: You shall have two noble Partners with you; the old Dutchefs of Norfolk, and the Lady Marquefs of 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 Heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this Confirmation.
King. Good Man, thofe joyful Tears fhew thy true Heart;
The common Voice I fee is verified
Of thee, which fays thus: Do my Lord of Canterbury A fhrewd turn, and he's your Friend for ever. Come, Lords, we trifle time away: I long To have this young one made a Chriftian. As I have made ye one, Lords, one remain: So I grow stronger, you more Honour gain.
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