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Sir. K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen.
[Exit King. Lady. An hundred marks! By this light, I'll
have more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. I will have more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the girl is like to him? I will have more, or else unsay't; and now While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. (Exeunt.
Lobby before the council-chamber.
Enter Cranmer; Servants, Door-keepers, &c. ato
tending. Cran. I hope, I am not too late; and yet the
gentleman, That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me To make great haste. All fast? what means this?
Yes, my lord;
Enter Doctor Butts.
'Tis Butts, The king's physician; As he past along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray Heaven, he sound not iny disgrace! For cer
tain, This is of purpose lay'd, by some that hate me, (God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice,) To quench mine honour: they would shame to make
Wait else at door; a fellow-counsellor,
Enter at a window abooe, the King and Butts. Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight,K. Hen.
What's that, Butts ? Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a
day. 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 : Is this the honour they do one another? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, They had parted so much honesty among them, (At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour, To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery: Let them alone, and draw the curtaiu close; We shall hear more apon.
Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk,
Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell. The 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. The rest seut themselves in order on euch side. Cromwell at the lower end, as secretary
Chan. 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?
Who waits there? D. Keep. Without, my noble lords? Gar.
Yes. D. Keep.
My lord archbishop ; And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chan. Let him come in.
Your grace may enter now.
lains, (For so we are inform’d,) with new opinions, Divers, and daugerous ; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
Gar. Which reformation must be suddeu too,
My noble lords: for those, that lame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them genule; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur
them, Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our easiness, aud childish pity To une man's houour) this contagious sickness, Farewell all physick : Aud what follows then ? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint Of the whole state : as, of lale days, our neighbours, The upper Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress 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 safely; and the end Was ever, to do well : nos is there living (I speak it with a single bear4*, my lords), 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 heant With less allegiance in it! Men, that make Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment, Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 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, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. Gar. My lord, because we have business of more
moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis bis highness' plea
sure, And our consent, for better trial of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower;
* "Io singlegess of heart.' Acts, ii. 46. VOL. VI.
Where, being but a private man again,
Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers, To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Cromi My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
Good master secretary,
Why, my lord ?
Not sound ?
'Would you were half so honest; Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
This is too much ; Forbear, for shame, my lords. Gar.
I have done.