Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations.
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O, my good lord, that comfort comes
too late ;
'Tis like a pardon after execution.
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me,
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
How does his highness ?
Cap. Madam, in good health.
Kath. So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor
Banish'd the kingdom ! â€” Patience, is that letter
I caus'd you write yet sent away ?
Pat. No, madam.
[Giving it to Katherine.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king, â€”
Cap. Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his
The model of oiu- chaste loves, his young
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on
her 1 â€”
Kinjr Henrv VIII
Bpsoechiiig him to give her virtuous breeding â€”
She is yonnp^, and of a noble modest nature ;
I hope, she will deserve well â€” and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly ! My next poor
Is that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have foUow'd both my fortunes faithfully ;
Of which there is Tiot one, I dare avow â€”
And now I should not lie â€” but will deserve,
Ff)r virtue and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a noble ;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have
The last is for my men, â€” they are the poorest.
But poverty could never draw 'em from me, â€”
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em.
And something over to remember me by ;
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer
And able means, ^\ e had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents ; â€” and, good my
By that you love the dearest in this world.
As you wish Christian peace to souls depai-ted.
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the
To do me this last right.
Cap. By heaven, I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man !
Kaih . I thank you, honest lord. Rememberme
In all humility unto his highness ;
Say his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world ; tell him in death I bless'd him,
Act V Scene 1
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
My lord.â€” Griffith, farewell.â€” Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet : I nuist to bed ;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good
Let me be us'd with honour ; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may
I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me.
Then lay me forth ; although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more. lExeunt, leading Katherhie.
Scene 1. â€” A Gallery in the Palace.
Enter Gardiner, BisJiop of Winchester, a Page
with a torch before him.
Gar. It 's one o'clock, boy, is 't not ?
Boy. It hath struck.
Gar. These should be hours for necessities.
Not for delights ; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for vis
To waste these times.
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
Good hour of night. Sir Thomas,
Whither so late ?
Lov. Came you from the king, my lord ?
Gar. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him a,t pri7nero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I must to him too.
Before he go to bed. I '11 take my leave.
Gar. Not yet. Sir Thomas Lovell. What's
the matter ?
It seems you are in haste ; an if there be
Kill'' Ilenrv VIII
No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business. Affairs that
As they say spirits doâ€” at midnight have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.
Lov. My lord, I love you,
And durst commend a secret to your ear.
Much weightier than this work. The queen's
They say, in great extremity, and fear'd
She '11 with the labour end.
Gar. The fruit she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live; but for the stock. Sir
I wish it grubb'd up now.
Lov. Methinks I could
Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
Gar. But, sir, sir.
Hear me. Sir Thomas : you're a gentleman
Of mine own way ; I know you wise, religious ;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for
Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
O' the rolls, and tlie king's secretary ; further, sir.
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him. The arch-
Act V Scene 1
Is the king's hand and tongue ; and who dare
One syllable against him ?
Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare, and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him ; and, indeed, this day-
Sir, I may tell it you, I thinkâ€” I have
Incens'd* the lords o' the council that he [informed
For so I know he is, they know he is â€”
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land; with which they
Have broken with the king, who hath so far
Given ear to our complaintâ€” of his great grace
And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before himâ€” hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented.* He's a I'ank weed. Sir [dted
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long ; good night. Sir 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 moi*e 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 shall not when my fancy 's on my play.â€”
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 sent your message, who return'd her thanks
l\\u^ Henry VIII
In the greatest luiiubleness, and desir'd your
Most licartily to pray for her.
A'. Hen. AVhat say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her ? what, is she crying out ?
Lov. So said her woman, and that her suffer-
Ahnost each pang a death.
K. Hen. Alas, good lady !
Siif. (lod safely quit her of her burthen, and
"With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Yt)ur highness with an heir !
A'. Hrn. 'Tis midnight, Charles ;
Pi iilue, to bed, and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave nie alone,
For I must think of that which company
A\\)uld not be friendly to.
Sitf. I wish your highness
A (luiet night, and my good mistress will
Kfiin'mber in my prayers.
A'. Hoi. Charles, good night.
E titer Sh' Anthony Denny.
Well, sir, what follows?
Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch-
As you couunanded me.
A'. Hen. Ha ! Canterbury ?
Den. Ay, my good lord.
A'. Hen. 'Tis true ; where is he, Denny ?
Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
A". Hen. Bring him to us.
[E.vit Dm 711/.
Lov. [AÂ»idc] This is about that which the
bishop spake :
I am happily come hither.
Act V Scene 1
Enter Denny ivith Cranmer.
K. Hen. Avoid* the gallery. [Lovell seems [quit
to stay. ]
Ha ! I have said. Be gone.
What ! [Exeunt Lovell and Deyiny.
Cran. [Aside] I am fearful. Wherefore frowns
he thus ?
'Tis his aspect of terror ; all 's not well.
K. Hen. How now, my lord ! You do desire
Wherefore I sent for you.
Cran. [Kneeling] It is my duty
To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Pray you, arise,
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
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to i-epeat what follows.
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord.
Grievous complaints of you, which, being coii-
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us ; where I know
You cannot with such 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
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
Cran. [Kneeling again] I hvimbly thank your
Kins: Heiirv VIII
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaflf
And com shall fly asunder; for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious
Than I myself, poor man.
K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury ;
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up ;
P*rithee, let 's walk. Now, by my halidom,
"What mannerof man are you ? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard
Without indurance, further.
Cran, Most dread liege.
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty;
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
'^^'ill triumph o'er my p>erson, which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
K. Hen, Know you not
How your state stands i' the world, with the
whole world ?
Your enemies are many, and not small ; their
Must bear the same 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 swear against you I such things have been
You are potently oppos'd, and with a malice
Of as gi-eat size. AVeen* you of better luck, [think
I mean in perjur'd witness, than your ^Master,
Act y Scene 1
Whose minister 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 destruction.
Cran. God and youi* majesty
Protect mine innocence, or T fall into
The trap is laid for me !
K. Hen. Be of good cheer ;
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 shallchance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you.
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them.â€” Look, the good man
He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest
I swear he is true-hearted, and a soul
Xone better in my kingdom.â€” Get you gone
And do as I have bid you. [Exit Crdiimer.] He
His language in his tears.
Enter an Old Lady.
Gent. [ With in] Come back ; what mean you ?
Lady. I '11 not come back ; the tidings that I
Will make my boldness manners. â€” Now, good
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings !
K. Hen. Now, by thy looks
Kinn: llenrv VIII
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?
Say ay, and of a boy.
Lady. Ay, ay, my liege,
And of a lovely boy ; the God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her ! â€” 'tis a girl
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acciuainted with this stranger ; 'tis as like you
As cherry is to cherry.
A' Hen. ' Lovell !
K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I '11 to
the queen. [E.vit King.
Lady. An hundred marks ! By this light, I '11
An ordinary groom is for such payment ;
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this the girl was like to him ?
I will have more, or else unsay 't ; and now,
While it is hot, I '11 put it to the issue.
Scene 2.â€” The Lobby before the Council-
Enter Cranmei' ; Ser cants, Door-keeper, etc.,
L'ran. I hope I um not too late; and yet the
That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast? what means
Who waitÂ« there ? Sure, you know me ?
D.-kcep. Yes, my loi-d;
But yet I cannot help you.
Act V Scene 2
D.-keep. Your grace must wait till you be
Enter Doctor Butts.
Butts. [Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am
I came this way so happily ; the king
Shall understand it presently. [Exit Butts.
Cran. [Aside] 'Tis Butts
The king's physician. As he pass'd along.
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me !
Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace! For
This is of purpose laid by some that hate meâ€”
God turn their hearts! I never sought their
To quench mine honour ; they would shame to
Wait else at door, a fellow counsellor
'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their
Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King and Butts, at a xoindow above.
Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest
K. Hen. What's that. Butts?
Butts. I think your highness saw this many
K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it ?
Butts. There, my lord;
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his state at door 'mongst pursuivants.
Pages, and footboys.
K. Hen. Ha ! 'Tis he indeed.
7 z 353
Iviiig Henry VIII
Is this thp honour they do one another?
'Tiswell there's oneabove 'era yet. I hcxd thought
They had parted so much honesty among 'em â€”
At least, good mannersâ€” as not thus to suffer
A man of his phice, and so near our favour,
Todance attendance on their h)rdships' pleasures,
And at tlie door, too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery :
Let 'em alone, and di-aw the curtain close ;
We shall hear more anon. [Exeunt.
ScEXE 3.â€” The Council-chamber.
E titer the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk,
Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Suivey, Lord
Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell.
The C Ii a ncel lor places himself at the upper
end of the table on the left hand; a scat being
left void (d)ove him, as for the Archbishoji
of Canterhxiry. The rest seat themselves in
order on each side. Cromwell at the leaver
end, as secretary.
Cha n. Speak to the business, master secretary ;
Why are we met in council ?
Crom. Please your honours.
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gar. Has he had knowledge of it?
^o'- Who waits there ?
D.-keej). Without, my noble lords?
D.-keep. My lord archbishop.
And has done half an hour, to know your
Chan, Let him come in.
D.-kecp. Your grace may enter now.
[C ra n mer approaches the council-table.
Act V Scene 3
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I 'm very sorry
To sit here at this present and behold
That chair stand 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 best should
Have DQisdemean'd youi-self, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching and your
For so we are inform'd â€” with new opinions,
Divers and dangerous, which are heresies.
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
Gar. Which reformation must be sudden, too,
My noble lords ; for those that tame wild horses
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle.
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer.
Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic ; and what follows then ?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state ; as, of late days, our neigh-
The upper Germany, can dearly witness.
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the
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
jNIight go one way, and safely ; and the end
Was ever to do well : nor is there living â€”
I speak it with a single heart, my lordsâ€”
King Henry Vlll
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a public peace than I do.
Pray heaven the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it ! Men that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
Tliat in this case of justice my accusers.
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.
Stif. Nay, my lord.
That cannot be ; you are a counsellor,
,Vnd by that virtue no naan dare accuse you.
Gar. My lord, because we have business of
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness'
And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower,
Where, being but a private man again.
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, â€”
^lore than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cran. Ay, my good Lord of Winchester, I
You areahvays my good friend : if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror.
You are so merciful. I see your end ;
'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition ;
Win straying souls with modesty again.
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt as you do conscience
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more.
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary ;
Act V Scene 3
That's the plain truth: your painted gloss
To men that understand you, words and weak-
Crom. My Lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty
To load a falling man.
Gar. Good master secretary,
I cry your honour mercy ; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
Crom. Why, my lord ?
Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect ? ye are not sound.
Cram. Not sound ?
Gar. Not sound, I say.
Crom. Would you were half so honest !
Men's prayers, then, would seek you, not their
Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Remember your bold life too.
Chan. This is too much ;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar. I have done.
Crom. And I.
Chan. Then thus for you, my lord : It stands
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner,
There to remain till the king's further pleasure
Be known imto us. Are you all agreed, lords ?
All. W^e are.
Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ?
King Henry VITT
Gnr. What other
A\'()uld you expect ? You are strangely trouble-
Let nome o' the guard be ready there.
Must I go like a traitor thither?
Gar. Receive him,
And see him safe i' the Tower.
Cran. Stay, good my lords ;
T have a little yet to say.â€” Look there, my lords.
By virtue of that ring I take my cause
Out of the gi'ipes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Cham. This is the king's ring.
Stir. 'Tis no counterfeit.
.97</. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven ! I told
When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling,
'Twonld fall upon ourselves.
Xor. Do yovi think, ray lords,
Tlie king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?
Chan. 'Tis now too certain :
How much more is his life in value with him ?
Would I were fairly out on 't I
Croin. My mind gave me.
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man, whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at.
Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye.
Enter the King, froicning on them ; he takes
Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound
Act V Scene 3
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince,
Not only good and wise, but most religious ;
One that in all obedience makes the church
The chief aim of his honour, and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect.
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden com-
Bishop of Winchester. But know, T come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence ;
They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach, yovi play the spaniel.
And think with wagging of your tongue to win
But whatsoe'er thovi tak'st me for, I 'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.
[To Crannier] Good man, sit down. Now, let
me see the proudest.
He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee ;
By all that 's holy, he had better starve
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace, â€”
K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some under-
And wisdom of my council, but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man.
This good man â€” few of you deserve that title, â€”
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber door ? and one as great as you are ?
Why, what a shame was this ! Did my com-
Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him.
Not as a groom. There 's some of ye, I see,
King Henry VIII
]More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ;
Which ye shall never have while I live.
Chan. Thus far,
ISIy most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprisonment was rather â€”
If there be faith in men â€” meant for his trial.
And fair purgation in the world, than malice,
I 'm sure, in me.
K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him :
Take him, and use him well ; he '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 ado, but all embrace him ;
Be friends, for shame, my lords I â€” My Lord of
I have a suit which you must not deny me.
That is, a fair yoimg maid that yet wants bap-
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may
In such an honour ; how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare
your spoons. You shall have two noble partners
with you : the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady
Marquess Dorset ; will these please you ? â€”
Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you.
Embrace and love this man.
Gar. With a true heart
And brother-love, I do it.
Craji. And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
Act V Scene 4
K. Hen. Good man 1 those joyful tears show
thy true heart.
The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of
A shrewd turn, and he is 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 remain ;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
Scene 4. â€” The Palace Yard.
Noise arid tumult ivithin. Enter Porter
and his Man.
Port. You '11 leave your noise anon, ye rascals !
do you take the court for Paris-garden*? ye rude
slaves, leave your gaping 1 [on tue Eankside
[One within.] Good master porter, I belong to
Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged,
you rogue ! Is this a place to roar in ? Fetch
me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones ;
these are but switches to 'em. I '11 scratch your
heads ! you must be seeing christenings ? Do
you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
Man. Pray, sir, be patient : 'tis as much im-
Unless we sweep'em from the doorwith cannons,
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning ; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd ?
Man. Alas, I know not ; how gets the tide in ?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot â€”
Kin<c Henry VI IT
You see the poor remainder â€” could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
I'uri. You did notliing, sir.
Man. I aui not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Col-
To mow 'em down before me ; but if I spar'd any