Crom. Why my Lord?

Gard. Doe not I know you for a Favourer

Of this new Sect? ye are not sound.

Crom. Not sound?

Gard. Not sound I say.

Crom. Would you were halfe so honest:

100

Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares. Gard. I shall remember this bold Language.

Crom. Doe.

Remember your bold life too.

Cham. This is too much;

Forbeare for shame my Lords.
Gard. I have done.

Crom. And I.

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed

I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,

You be convaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;

There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure

Be knowne unto us: are you all agreed Lords.
All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,

But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?

Gard. What other,

III

Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome: Let some o'th' Guard be ready there.

Cran. For me?

Enter the Guard.

Must I goe like a Traytor thither?

Gard. Receive him,

And see him safe i'th' Tower.

Cran. Stay good my Lords,

I have a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords,
By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause

I 20

130

Out of the gripes of cruell men, and give it

To a most Noble Judge, the King my Maister.
Cham. This is the Kings Ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heav'n: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling, 'Twold fall upon our selves.

Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords

The King will suffer but the little finger

Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. Tis now too certaine;

How much more is his Life in value with him?

Would I were fairely out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and Informations

Against this man, whose honesty the Divell
And his Disciples onely envy at,

Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now have at ye.

Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate. Gard. Dread Soveraigne,

How much are we bound to Heaven,

140

In dayly thankes; that gave us such a Prince;

150

Not onely good and wise, but most religious:

One that in all obedience, makes the Church
The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen
That holy duty out of deare respect,

His Royall selfe in Judgement comes to heare
The cause betwixt her, and this great offender.

Kin. You were ever good at sodaine Commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not
To heare such flattery now, and in my presence

133. 'Ts: 'Tis-2-4F.

148-9. 1 1.-POPE.

They are too thin, and base to hide offences,

160

To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell,
And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me:
But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure
Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody.

[To Cranmer] Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest |

Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.

By all that's holy, he had better starve,

Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your Grace;-

Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me,

170

I had thought, I had had men of some understanding,
And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none:
Was it discretion Lords, to let this man,

This good man (few of you deserve that Title)
This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy
At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?

Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission
Bid ye so farre forget your selves? I gave ye

Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him,
Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see,
More out of Malice then Integrity,

Would trye him to the utmost, had ye meane,1
Which ye shall never have while I live.

Chan. Thus farre

180

1 power

My most dread Soveraigne, may it like your Grace, To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather

(If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall, And faire purgation to the world then malice,

I'm sure in me.

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him,

168. bis: this-Rowe.

190

Take him, and use him well; hee's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him, if a Prince

May be beholding to a Subject; I

Am for his love and service, so to him.

Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him;

Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury
I have a Suite which you must not deny mee.
That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme,
You must be Godfather, and answere for her.

200

Cran. The greatest Monarch now alive may glory In such an honour: how may I deserve it, That am a poore and humble Subject to you?

Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones; You shall have two noble Partners with you: the old Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will these please you?

Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace, and love this man.

Gard. With a true heart,

And Brother; love I doe it.
Cran. And let Heaven

Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation.

210

Kin. Good Man, those joyfull teares shew thy true hearts,

The common voyce I see is verified

Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turne, and hee'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 remaine:

220

So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine. Exeunt.

204. you'd: you'ld-CAMBRIDGE.

211. Brother; love: brother-love-MALONE.

214. bearts: heart-2-4F.

Scena Tertia.

[Scene iv. The palace yard.]

Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and
his man.

Port. You'l leave your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaves, leave your gaping:

Within. Good M. Porter I belong to th' Larder.

Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings? Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude Raskalls?

13

Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, Unlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons, To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe

On May-day Morning, which will never be:

We may as well push against Powles1 as stirre 'em. Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in? 20 As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote, (You see the poore remainder) could distribute, I made no spare Sir. 1 St. Paul's Church

Port. You did nothing Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or old,

He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker:

5. Parish: Paris-4F.