You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

Cran. 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.
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.
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: 't is a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

I

Gar.

Good master secretary,

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.

Crom.

Not sound?

'Would you were half so honest!

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom.

Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.

Gar.

Crom.

I have done.

And I.

Chan. Then thus for you, my lord,—It stands agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith

You be conveyed to the Tower a prisoner;
There to reinain, till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords?
All. We are.

Cran.

Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?

Gar. What other Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome : Let some o' the guard be ready there.

And see him safe i' the Tower.

Cran.

Stay, good my lords;

I have a little yet to say.
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.
Cham. This is the king's ring.

Look there, my lords;

Sur.

"T is no counterfeit. Suf. T is the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling,

"T would fall upon ourselves.

Nor.

The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham.

Do you think, my lords,

"T is now too certain:

How much more is his life in value with him?

'Would I were fairly out on 't.

Crom.

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 scat.

Gar. 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.

K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commenda.

tions,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now; and in my presence,
They are too thin and base 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 tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.

Good man, [to CRANMER] 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 his place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace,-

K. Hen.

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.

Chan.

Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his imprisonment, was rather

(If there be faith in men) meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice; I am 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 beholden 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.

Cran. 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?

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 marquis Dorset: Will these please you? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man.

K. Hen. 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.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.

[Exeunt,

Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.a

[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. 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 them. 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; 't is as much impossible
(Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons)
To scatter them, as 't is to make them sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.
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
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
Ì made no spare, sir.

Port.

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand,

a Gaping-shouting. The "gaping pig" of Shylock meant probably the roaring pig.