Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare; and I my felf have ventur'd Incens'd the Lords of the Council, that he is, A moft Arch-heretick, a Peftilence That does infect the Land; with which they'mov'd, King. Charles, I will play no more to Night, Nor fhall not, when my Fancy's on my Play. King. What fay'ft thou! Ha! To pray for her! What! is the crying out? Lov. So faid her Woman, and that her fuffrance made Almost each pang a death. King. Alas, good Lady. Suf. God fafely quit her of her Burthern, and With gentle Travel, to the gladding of Your Highness with an Heir. King. 'Tis midnight, Charles, Prithee to Bed, and in thy Prayers remember For 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. Denny. He attends your Highness pleafure. King. Bring him to us. Lov. This is about that which the Bishop spake, King. 'Tis true where is he, Denny? [Exit Denny. [Afide. [Lovel feemeth to ftay. Enter Cranmer and Denny.. I am happily come hither. King. Avoid the Gallery. 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 speak, Which will require your Anfwer, you must take To make your Houfe our Tower; you, a Brother of us. Would come against you. Cran. I humbly thank your Highness, 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, ftand 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? The Juftice and the Truth o'th' queftion carries VOL. IV. Cran. Cran. God and your Majefty 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 Deliver them, and your Appeal to us There make before them. Look, the good Man weeps: None better in my Kingdom. Get you gone, [Exit Cranmer. And do as I have bid you. Gent. within. Come back; what mean you? Lady. I'll not come back, the tidings that I bring Will make my Boldness Manners. Now good Angels Fly o'er thy Royal Head, and fhade thy Perfon Under their bleffed Wings. King. Now by thy Looks I guels thy Meffage. Say, Ay, and of a Boy! Is the Queen deliver'd? Lady. Ay, ay, my Liege; And of a lovely Boy; the God of Heav'n Acquainted with this Stranger; 'tis as like you, King. Lovell. Lov. Sir. King. Give her an hundred Marks, I'll to the Queen. [Exit King. 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 else unfay't: and now, while 'tis hot, [Exit Lady. Cran, I hope I am not too late, and 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? Enter Keeper. yet I cannot help you. Cran. Why? Keep. Your Grace must 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 prefently. Cran. 'Tis Butts, The King's Phyfician, as he paft along, [Exit Butts. for certain This is of purpose laid by fome that hate me, (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 Muft be fulfilled, and I attend with Patience. Enter the King and Butts at a Window above. Butts. I'll fhew your Grace the ftrangest fight--King. What's that, Butts ? Sz Butts. |