Of his own body he was ill, and gave

The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brafs; their virtues

We write in water 2. May it please your highnefs
To hear me fpeak his good now?

Kath. Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious elfe.

Grif. This cardinal,

Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle,
He was a fcholar, and a ripe and good one:
Exceeding wife, fair spoken, and perfuading:
Lofty and four, to them that lov'd him not ;
But, to thofe men that fought him, sweet as fummer.
And though he were unfatisfy'd in getting,
(Which was a fin) yet in bestowing, madam,.
He was moft princely; Ever witness for him
Thofe twins of learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good he did it ;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and ftill fo rifing,
That Chriftendom thall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not 'till then, he felt himself,
And found the bleednefs of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he dy'd fearing God.

Kath. After my death I with no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But fuch an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I moft hated living, theu haft made me,
With thy religious truth, and modefty,
Now in his athes honour: Peace be with
Patience, be near me ftill; and fet me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee.-Good Griffith,
Caufe the muficians play me that fad note
I nam'd my knell, whilft I fit meditating
On that celeftial harmony I go to.

Sad and folemn mufick.

him!-Knowing, fhe will not lofe her wonted greatness, To ufe fo rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Grif. She is afleep: Good wench, let's fit down quiet,

For fear we wake her:-Softly, gentle Patience. The vifion. Enter, folemnly tripping one after another, fix perfonages, clad in white robes, wearing on their beads garlands of bays, and goldin vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two bold a spare garland over her bead; at which, the other four make reverend curtefies; then the two, that held the garland, deliver the fame to the other next trva, who abferve the fame order is their changes, and holding the garland over ber bead: which done, they deliver the fame garland to the lafi two, who likewife obferve the fame order:

Mef. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My hatte made me unmannerly: There is staying
A gentleman, fent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this
Let me ne'er fee again.
[ fellow

[Exeunt Griffith, and Messenger. Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.

If my fight fail not,
You fhould be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap. Madam, the fame, your fervant,

Kath. O my lord,

1 A criminal conne&tion with women was anciently call'd the vice of the body. So, in Holinfhed, P. 1258, he labour'd by all meanes to cleare miftreffe Sanders of committing cvill of her bodie with him." 2 Dr. Percy remarks, that this reflection bears a great refemblance to a paffage in Sir Thomas More's Hiftory of Richard III. where, fpeaking of the ungrateful turns which Jane Shore experienced from thole whom the had ferved in her profperity; More adds, "Men ufe, if they have an evil turne, to write it in marble, and whofo doth us a good turne, we write it in dufte."

Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too For honefty, and decent carriage,

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord?
Gard. I did, Sir Thomas; and let him at pri-I with it grubb'd up now.
With the duke of Suffolk.

And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,-
'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovel, take 't of me,-
'Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and the,
Sleep in their graves.

[well,

Lov. Now, fir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-
Befide that of the jewel-houfe, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's fecretary; further, fir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him: The arch-
bishop
[fpeak
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare
One fyllable against him?

Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
To fpeak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (1 may tell it you) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o' the council, that he is
(For fo I know he is, they know he is)
A most arch heretick, a peftilence
That does infect the land: with which they mov'd,
Have broken 2 with the king; who hath fo far
Given car to our complaint, (of his great grace
And princely care; forefeeing thofe fell mifchiefs
Our reafons laid before him) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board [mas,
He be convented 3. He's a rank weed, Sir Tho-
And we muft root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I reft your
[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.
As Lovel is going out, enter the King, and the Duke
of Suffolk.

fervant.

King. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Sf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
King. But little, Charles;

Nor fhall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
Now, Lovel, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not perfonally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I fent your mellage; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humblenefs, and defired your high-
Moft heartily to pray for her.

King. What fay'it thou ? ha!

[nefs

To pray for her? what, is the crying out? [made
Lov. So faid her woman; and that her fufferance
Almoft each pang a death.

King. Alas, good lady !

Suf. God fafely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highnefs with an heir!

King. 'Tis midnight, Charles,

Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The eftate of my poor queen.
Leave me alone;

For I muft think of that, which company

Would not be friendly to.

Suf. I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

King. Charles, good night.-

[Exit Suffolk.

i. e. the practifed method, the general courfe. minds to the king. 3 i. e. fummon'd, conven'd.

King. Ha! Canterbury?
Denny. Ay, my good lord.

King. 'Tis true: Where is he, Denny ?
Denny. He attends your highnefs' pleature.
King. Bring him to us.
[Exit Denny.

Lor. This is about that which the bishop spake; am happily come hither.

[Afide.

Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.
King. Avoid the gallery. [Lovel feemeth to stay.
Ha!1 have faid.-Be gone.
What!-

[Exeunt Lovel, and Denny.
Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he thus?
Tis his afpect of terror. All's not well. [know
King. How now, my lord? You do defire to
Wherefore I fent for you.

To attend your highness' pleasure.
Gran. It is my duty,

King. Pray you, arife,

Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
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:
Heard many grievous, I do fay, my lord,
I have, and moft unwillingly, of late
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-
fider'd,

Have mov'd us and our council, that you fhall
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 houfe our Tower: You a brother
of us +,

It fits we thus proceed, or elfe no witness
Would come against you,

Cran. I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occafion
Moft thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
| And corn fhall fly afunder: for, I know,
There's noneftands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.

King. 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
Yourfelf 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 perfon; which I weigh not,

2. e. they have broken filence, and told their
4 i. e. you being one of the council.

An ordinary groom is for fuch payment. I will have more, or fcold it out of him. [world? Said I for this, the girl was like to him? How your state stands i'the world, with the whole I will have more, or else unfay't; and now, Your enemies are many, and not fmall; their While it is hot, I'll put it to the iffue.

Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad,

I came this way fo happily: The king
Shall understand it prefently.

To ween is to think, to imagine. Obfolete.

felves in order on each fide, Cromwell at the lower | And, by that virtue, no man dare accufe you. Gard. My lord, because we have business of more end, as Secretary.

1 Chun. Speak to the bufinefs, mafter Secretary: Why are we met in council?

Grom. Please your honours,

The chief caufe concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gard. Has he bad knowledge of it?
Crom. Yes.

Nor. Who waits there?

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?
Gard. Yes.

D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

moment,

[pleafure,

We will be fhort with you. 'Tis his highness
And our confent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You thall know many dare accufe you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for. [thank you,
Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchefter, I
You are always my good friend; if your will pafs,
I thall both find your lordflip judge and juror,

And has done half an hour, to know your pleafures. You are fo merciful: I fee your end,
Chan. Let him come in.

"Tis my undoing: Love, and meeknefs, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;

D. Keep. Your grace may enter now.
[Cranmer approaches the council table. Win straying fouls with modefty again,
That I fhall clear myself,
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very forry | Caft none away.
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
To fit here at this prefent, and behold
That chair ftand empty But we all are men,
I make as little doubt, as you do confcience
In doing daily wrongs. I could fay more,
In our own natures frail; and capable
But reverence to your calling makes me modeft,

Of our flesh, few are angels 2: out of which frailty,
And want of wifdom, you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling [lains',
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap-
(For fo we are inform'd) with new opinions,
Divers, and dangerous; which are herefies,
And, not reformi'd, may prove pernicious.

['em,

Gard. Which reformation muit be fudden too,
My noble lords: for thofe, that tame wild hories,
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle;
But ftop their mouths with ftubborn bits, and fpur
'Till they obey the manage. If we futter
(Out of our eafinefs, and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious fickness,
Farewel all phyfic: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole ftate: as, of late days, our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witnets,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Both of my life and office, 1 have labour'd,
And with no little ftudy, that my teaching,
And the ftrong courfe 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 against,
Both in his private confcience, and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
Pray heaven, 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 justice, my accufers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be; you are a counsellor,

Gard. My lord, my lord, you are a fectary, -
That's the plain truth; your painted glofs 3 discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.

Crom. My lord of Winchefter, 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.

Gurd. Good matter Secretary,

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, fay fo.

Crom. Why, my lord?

Gard. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new fect? ye are not found.

This lord chancellor, though a character, has hitherto had no place in the Dramatis Perfona. In the laft fcene of the fourth act, we heard that Sir Thomas More was appointed lord chancellor: but it is not he, whom the poet here introduces. Wolfey, by command, delivered up the feals on the 18th of November, 1529; on the 25th of the fame inonth, they were delivered to Sir Thomas More, who furrender'd them on the 16th of May, 1532. Now the conclufion of this fcene taking notice of queen Elizabeth's birth (which brings it down to the year 1534), Sir Thomas Audlie muft neceffarily be our poet's chancellor; who fucceeded Sir Thomas More, and held the feals many years. ing, perhaps, Few are perfect, while they remain in their mortal capacity. 3 i. c. your fail outfide.

2 Mean

Must