Henry VIII

ACT V

SCENE I. London. A gallery in the palace.

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

SCENE II. Before the council-chamber. Pursuivants, Pages, and c.

attending.

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

SCENE III. The Council-Chamber.

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

SCENE IV. The palace yard.

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.

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

SCENE V. The palace.

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, and 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.