| [Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a
torch before him, met by LOVELL] | |
| GARDINER | It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? |
| Boy | It hath struck. |
| GARDINER | These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas! Whither so late? |
| LOVELL | Came you from the king, my lord |
| GARDINER | I did, Sir Thomas: and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk. |
| LOVELL | I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. |
| GARDINER | Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
It seems you are in haste: an if there be No great offence belongs to't, give your friend Some touch of your late business: affairs, that walk, As they say spirits do, at midnight, have In them a wilder nature than the business That seeks dispatch by day. |
| LOVELL | My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour, They say, in great extremity; and fear'd She'll with the labour end. |
| GARDINER | The fruit she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may find Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd up now. |
| LOVELL | Methinks I could
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes. |
| GARDINER | 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. |
| LOVELL | Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell, Beside that of the jewel house, is made master O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, With which the time will load him. The archbishop Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak One syllable against him? |
| GARDINER | 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 think I have Incensed the lords o' the council, that he is, For so I know he is, they know he is, A most arch heretic, a pestilence That does infect the land: with which they moved Have broken with the king; who hath so far Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded To-morrow morning to the council-board He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas. |
| LOVELL | Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant. |
| [Exeunt GARDINER and Page] | |
| [Enter KING HENRY VIII and SUFFOLK] | |
| KING HENRY VIII | Charles, I will play no more tonight;
My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me. |
| SUFFOLK | Sir, I did never win of you before. |
| KING HENRY VIII | But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news? |
| LOVELL | I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message; who return'd her thanks In the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness Most heartily to pray for her. |
| KING HENRY VIII | What say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her? what, is she crying out? |
| LOVELL | So said her woman; and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Alas, good lady! |
| SUFFOLK | God safely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your highness with an heir! |
| KING HENRY VIII | 'Tis midnight, Charles;
Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; For I must think of that which company Would not be friendly to. |
| SUFFOLK | I wish your highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will Remember in my prayers. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Charles, good night. |
| [Exit SUFFOLK] | |
| [Enter DENNY] | |
| Well, sir, what follows? | |
| DENNY | Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
As you commanded me. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Ha! Canterbury? |
| DENNY | Ay, my good lord. |
| KING HENRY VIII | 'Tis true: where is he, Denny? |
| DENNY | He attends your highness' pleasure. |
| [Exit DENNY] | |
| LOVELL | [Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake:
I am happily come hither. |
| [Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER] | |
| KING HENRY VIII | Avoid the gallery. |
| [LOVELL seems to stay] | |
| Ha! I have said. Be gone. What! | |
| [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY] | |
| CRANMER | [Aside]
I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. |
| KING HENRY VIII | How now, my lord! you desire to know
Wherefore I sent for you. |
| CRANMER | [Kneeling] It is my duty
To attend your highness' pleasure. |
| KING HENRY VIII | 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 your hand. Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, And am right sorry to repeat what follows I have, and most unwillingly, of late Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd, Have moved 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 of us, It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Would come against you. |
| CRANMER | [Kneeling] |
| I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, There's none stands under more calumnious tongues Than I myself, poor man. | |
| KING HENRY VIII | Stand up, good Canterbury:
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up: Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame. What manner of 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 you, Without indurance, further. |
| CRANMER | Most dread liege,
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty: If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Know you not
How your state stands i' the world, with the whole world? Your enemies are many, and not small; their practises 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? such things have been done. You are potently opposed; and with a malice Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, I mean, in perjured witness, than your master, Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; You take a precipice for no leap of danger, And woo your own destruction. |
| CRANMER | God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me! |
| KING HENRY VIII | 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 shall chance, 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. Look, the good man weeps! He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother! I swear he is true--hearted; and a soul None better in my kingdom. Get you gone, And do as I have bid you. |
| [Exit CRANMER] | |
| He has strangled
His language in his tears. | |
| [Enter Old Lady, LOVELL following] | |
| Gentleman | [Within] Come back: what mean you? |
| Old 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 shade thy person Under their blessed wings! |
| KING HENRY VIII | Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? Say, ay; and of a boy. |
| Old Lady | Ay, ay, my liege;
And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven Both now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl, Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen Desires your visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger 'tis as like you As cherry is to cherry. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Lovell! |
| LOVELL | Sir? |
| KING HENRY VIII | Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen. |
| [Exit] | |
| Old Lady | An hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more.
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'll put it to the issue. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter CRANMER] | |
| CRANMER | 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? Ho! Who waits there? Sure, you know me? |
| [Enter Keeper] | |
| Keeper | Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you. |
| CRANMER | Why? |
| [Enter DOCTOR BUTTS] | |
| Keeper | Your grace must wait till you be call'd for. |
| CRANMER | So. |
| DOCTOR BUTTS | [Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily: the king Shall understand it presently. |
| [Exit] | |
| CRANMER | [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 certain, This is of purpose laid by some that hate me-- God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice-- To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor, 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. |
| [Enter the KING HENRY VIII and DOCTOR BUTTS at a window above] | |
| DOCTOR BUTTS | I'll show your grace the strangest sight-- |
| KING HENRY VIII | What's that, Butts? |
| DOCTOR BUTTS | I think your highness saw this many a day. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Body o' me, where is it? |
| DOCTOR BUTTS | There, my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys. |
| KING HENRY VIII | 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 so much honesty among 'em 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 'em alone, and draw the curtain close: We shall hear more anon. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter Chancellor; places himself at the upper end
of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for CRANMER's seat. SUFFOLK, NORFOLK, SURREY, Chamberlain, GARDINER, seat themselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at lower end, as secretary. Keeper at the door] | |
| Chancellor | Speak to the business, master-secretary:
Why are we met in council? |
| CROMWELL | Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. |
| GARDINER | Has he had knowledge of it? |
| CROMWELL | Yes. |
| NORFOLK | Who waits there? |
| Keeper | Without, my noble lords? |
| GARDINER | Yes. |
| Keeper | My lord archbishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. |
| Chancellor | Let him come in. |
| Keeper | Your grace may enter now. |
| [CRANMER enters and approaches the council-table] | |
| Chancellor | 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 teach us, Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains, For so we are inform'd, with new opinions, Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. |
| GARDINER | 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 spur 'em, 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 neighbours, The upper Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our memories. |
| CRANMER | 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: nor is there living, I speak it with a single heart, 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 heart 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. |
| SUFFOLK | Nay, my lord,
That cannot be: you are a counsellor, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. |
| GARDINER | My lord, because we have business of more moment,
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure, 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, More than, I fear, you are provided for. |
| CRANMER | Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;
You are always 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. |
| GARDINER | 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. |
| CROMWELL | 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. |
| GARDINER | Good master secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so. |
| CROMWELL | Why, my lord? |
| GARDINER | Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound. |
| CROMWELL | Not sound? |
| GARDINER | Not sound, I say. |
| CROMWELL | Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. |
| GARDINER | I shall remember this bold language. |
| CROMWELL | Do.
Remember your bold life too. |
| Chancellor | This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords. |
| GARDINER | I have done. |
| CROMWELL | And I. |
| Chancellor | Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,
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 unto us: are you all agreed, lords? |
| All | We are. |
| CRANMER | Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? |
| GARDINER | What other
Would you expect? you are strangely troublesome. Let some o' the guard be ready there. |
| [Enter Guard] | |
| CRANMER | For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither? |
| GARDINER | Receive him,
And see him safe i' the Tower. |
| CRANMER | Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; By virtue of that ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most noble judge, the king my master. |
| Chamberlain | This is the king's ring. |
| SURREY | 'Tis no counterfeit. |
| SUFFOLK | 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all,
When ye first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves. |
| NORFOLK | Do you think, my lords,
The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd? |
| Chancellor | 'Tis now too certain:
How much more is his life in value with him? Would I were fairly out on't! |
| CROMWELL | 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 KING, frowning on them; takes his seat] | |
| GARDINER | Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
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. |
| KING HENRY VIII | You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I 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, you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But, whatsoe'er thou takest me for, I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. |
| [To CRANMER] | |
| 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. | |
| SURREY | May it please your grace,-- |
| KING HENRY VIII | No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some understanding And wisdom of my council; but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, This good man,--few of you deserve that title,-- 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 commission 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, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Which ye shall never have while I live. |
| Chancellor | Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed Concerning his imprisonment, was rather, If there be faith in men, meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice, I'm sure, in me. |
| KING HENRY VIII | 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! My Lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me; That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, You must be godfather, and answer for her. |
| CRANMER | The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour: how may I deserve it That am a poor and humble subject to you? |
| KING HENRY VIII | Come, come, my lord, you'ld spare your spoons: you
shall have two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace and love this man. |
| GARDINER | With a true heart
And brother-love I do it. |
| CRANMER | And let heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart:
The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of Canterbury 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. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man] | |
| Porter | You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: do you
take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. |
| [Within] | |
| Good master porter, I belong to the larder. | |
| Porter | Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye 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'll 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 impossible--
Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons-- To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep On May-day morning; which will never be: We may as well push against Powle's, as stir em. |
| Porter | 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-- You see the poor remainder--could distribute, I made no spare, sir. |
| Porter | You did nothing, sir. |
| Man | I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow 'em down before me: but if I spared any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again And that I would not for a cow, God save her! |
| [Within] | |
| Do you hear, master porter? | |
| Porter | I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.
Keep the door close, sirrah. |
| Man | What would you have me do? |
| Porter | What should you do, but knock 'em down by the
dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. |
| Man | The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a
fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succor, which were the hope o' the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place: at length they came to the broom-staff to me; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely. |
| Porter | These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse,
and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come. |
| [Enter Chamberlain] | |
| Chamberlain | Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here!
They grow still too; from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows: There's a trim rabble let in: are all these Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening. |
| Porter | An't please
your honour, We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done: An army cannot rule 'em. |
| Chamberlain | As I live,
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads Clap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound; They're come already from the christening: Go, break among the press, and find a way out To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months. |
| Porter | Make way there for the princess. |
| Man | You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. |
| Porter | You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail;
I'll peck you o'er the pales else. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord
Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, NORFOLK with his marshal's staff, SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls for the christening-gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c., train borne by a Lady; then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks] | |
| Garter | Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous
life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth! |
| [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VIII and Guard] | |
| CRANMER | [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, and the good queen,
My noble partners, and myself, thus pray: All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye! |
| KING HENRY VIII | Thank you, good lord archbishop:
What is her name? |
| CRANMER | Elizabeth. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Stand up, lord. |
| [KING HENRY VIII kisses the child] | |
| With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
Into whose hand I give thy life. | |
| CRANMER | Amen. |
| KING HENRY VIII | My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:
I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, When she has so much English. |
| CRANMER | Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. This royal infant--heaven still move about her!-- Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be-- But few now living can behold that goodness-- A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed: Saba was never More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: She shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with her: In her days every man shall eat in safety, Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, Who from the sacred ashes of her honour Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him: Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him: our children's children Shall see this, and bless heaven. |
| KING HENRY VIII | Thou speakest wonders. |
| CRANMER | She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more! but she must die, She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. |
| KING HENRY VIII | O lord archbishop,
Thou hast made me now a man! never, before This happy child, did I get any thing: This oracle of comfort has so pleased me, That when I am in heaven I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor, And your good brethren, I am much beholding; I have received much honour by your presence, And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords: Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think Has business at his house; for all shall stay: This little one shall make it holiday. |
| [Exeunt] | |
| EPILOGUE | |
| 'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here: some come to take their ease, And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city Abused extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!' Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, All the expected good we're like to hear For this play at this time, is only in The merciful construction of good women; For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile, And say 'twill do, I know, within a while All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap. |