Of mine own way; I know you wife, reli
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well
'Twill not, fir Thomas Lovell, take't of
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands,
Sleep in their graves.
Now, fir, you speak
The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As fo
Befide that of the jewel-house, he's made r
O'the rolls, and the king's fecretary; furt
Stands in the gap and trade of more prefer
With which the time will load him: The
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And wh
One fyllable against him ?
Gar.
Yes, yes, fir Th
There are that dare; and I myself have v
To speak my mind of him: and, indeed,
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he i
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretick, a peftilence
That does infect the land: with which the
Have broken with the king: who hath fo
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great
And princely care; foreseeing those fell m
Our reafons laid before him,) he hath com
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, fir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, fir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant. [Exeunt GARDINER and Page.
As LOVELL is going out, enter the King, and the Duke of SUFFOLK.
K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;
Nor fhall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I fent your meffage; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your highness
Moft heartily to pray for her.
What fay'st thou? ha!
To pray for her? what, is fhe crying out?
Lov. So faid her woman; and that her fufferance made Almost each pang a death.
Suf. God fafely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!
Pr'ythee, to bed: and in thy prayers remember
The eftate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the a
Lov. This is about that which the bisho I am happily come hither.
Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns 'Tis his afpéct of terror. All's not well. K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do de Wherefore I fent for you.
It is my duty, To attend your highnefs' pleasure.
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me your hand.
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right forry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do fay, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being confider'd,
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with fuch 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 Tower: You a brother of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occafion
Moft throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn fhall fly afunder: for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.
Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I fhould have ta'en fome pains to bring together
Yourself and your accufers; and to have heard you
Without indurance, further.
Cran.
Moft dread liege,
The good I ftand on is my truth, and honesty;
If they fhall fail, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of thofe virtues vacant.
What can be faid against me.
Your ftate ftands i'the world, with the whole world?
Your enemies
Are many, and not fmall; their practices
Must bear the fame proportion: and not ever
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To fwear against you? such things have been done.
You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great fize. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minifter 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 deftruction.
God, and your majesty, Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
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 fhall chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best perfuafions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occafion fhall 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 honeft, on mine honour. God's bleft mother!
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