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'l

Have more, or elfe unfay't: and now, while 'tis hot,
I'll put it to the Iffue.

SCENE II.

[Exit Lady.

Enter Crammer.

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?

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 prefently.

Cran. 'Tis Butts,

The King's Phyfician, as he paft along,

How earnestly he caft his Eyes upon me;

[Exit Butts.

Pray Heav'n he found not my Difgrace: 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

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?

S 2

Batts.

Butts. I think your Highness faw this many a Day.
King. Body a me: where is it?

Butts. There, my Lord:

The high Promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his State at door 'mong ft Purfevants,
Pages, and Foot-boys.

King. Ha? 'tis he indeed.

Is this the Honour they do one another?
'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought
They had parted fo much Honefty among 'em,
At leaft good Manners, as not thus to suffer
A Man of his Place, and fo near our Favour,
To dance Attendance on their Lordships Pleasures,
And at the Door too, like a Poft with Packets:
By holy Mary, Butts, there's Knavery;

Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtain clofe.
We shall hear more anon.

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 Norfolk, 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. Pleafe 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 Pleafures.

Chan. Let him come in.

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

[Cranmer approaches the Council Table.

Chan.

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 Frai'ty
And want of Wisdom, you that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd your felf, and not a little:
Toward the King firft, 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 suffer,

Out of our Eafinefs and childish Pity

To one Man's Honour, this contagious Sickness,
Farewel ali 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 witnefs,

Yet freshly pitied in our Memories.

Cran. My good Lords; hitherto, in all the Progrefs
Both of my Life and Office, I have labour'd,
And with no little Study, that my Teaching,
And the strong Course 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 againft,"
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 fland forth Face to Face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my Lord,

That cannot be; you are a Councellor,

And by that Vertue no Man dare accufe you

Gard. My Lord, because we have Bufinefs of more moment, We will be thort with you. 'Tis his Highnefs 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. Ay, 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 fay 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 tharp; Men fo Noble,
How ever faulty, yet fhould find Refpect
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, worft
Of all this Table, fay fo.

Crom. Why, my Lord?

Gard. Do not I know for you a Favourer

Of this new Sect? ye are not found.

Crom. Not found?

Gard. Not found, I fay.

Crom. Would you were half fo honeft:

Mens Prayers then would feek you, not their Fears.

Gard.

Gard. I fhall remember this bold Language,

Crom. Do.

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 stands 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 Pleafure
Be known 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.

Would you expect? you are ftrangely troublesome :
Let fome o'th' Guard be ready there,

Cran. For me?

Enter the Guard.

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 Caufe
Out of the gripes of cruel Men, and give it
To a moft Noble Judge, the King my Mafter.
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 hm
Would I were fairly out on',