The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Being of those virtues vacant. What can be said against me.

I fear nothing

K. Hen. Know you not how Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world? Your enemies

Are many, and not small; their practices

Must bear the same proportion: and not everl
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 oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween2 you of better luck,

I
mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Be of good cheer;

Cran. God, and your majesty, Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me! K. Hen. 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 an old Lady.

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter at a window above, 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 curtain close;
We shall hear more anon.-

[Exeunt.

THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER. 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 seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at the lower

K. Hen. Give her a hundred marks. I'll to the queen. end, as secretary. [Exit King. Lady. A hundred marks! By this light, I'll

have more.

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?

Crom.

Nor.

Yes.

Who waits there?

Yes.

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords? Gar.

D. Keep. And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Chan. Let him come in. D. Keep.

My lord archbishop;|| 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: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.
Good master secretary,

Your grace may enter now.
[Cranmer approaches the council-table.
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am 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 chap-
lains,

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions,
Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those, that tame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

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.

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: 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 inalice, 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 his highness' plea

sure,

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.

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,

(1) 'In singleness of heart.' Acts ii. 46.

Gar.

I 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.

Gar. Not sound, I say.
Crom.

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.

Crom.
Remember your bold life too.
Chan.

Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar.
Crom.

Do.

This is too much;

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 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.
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 trouble-

some.

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.
Cham. This is the king's ring.

Sur. "Tis no counterfeit. Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves.

Ner. Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. 'Tis 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 seat.
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 com-
mendations,

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 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 Can-
terbury,

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 :1 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.

Gar.

And brother-love, I do it.

Cran.

With a true heart,

And let Heaven

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.

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. [Exe.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. Noise and tu-
mult within. Enter Porter and his Man.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris garden ?2 ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.3

[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 erab-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; 'tis as much impos

sible

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them 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 never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

[Within.] Do you hear, master porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

Port What should you do, but knock them 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 Chris. tian 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 pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor6 once, and hit that woman, who cried out, Clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand,

true heart.

'The common voice, I see, is verified

where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom

Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter- staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly

bury

(1) It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children.

(2) The bear-garden on the Bank-side. Roaring.

a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw

(4) Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant. (5) Pink'd cap. (6) The brazier,

mine honour in, and let them win the work: The devil was amongst them, I think, surely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-house, 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 them in limbo patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles,2 that is to come.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. 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.
Port.
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 them.
Cham.

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: You are lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,3 when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound:
They are 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 you play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll
make your head ache.

Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt. SCENE IV-The Palace.5 Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his marshal's staff, Duke of 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 of Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King, and Train. Cran. [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!

K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name?

Cran.

K. Hen.

Elizabeth.

Stand up, lord.-
[The King kisses the child.

(1) Place of confinement.
(2) A dessert of whipping.
(3) Black leather vessels to hold beer.
(5) At Greenwich.

Pitch.

With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
Into whose hands I give thy life.
Cran.
Amen.

K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal :

I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cran.
Let me speak, sir,
For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them 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: Sheba 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 lov'd, 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
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
darkness,)
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, ter-

Shall see this, and bless Heaven.
K. Hen.

Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. 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.
K. Hen. 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 pleas'd 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 beholden;

(6) This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James.

"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
Abus'd extremely, and to cry,-that's witty!
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we are 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 them: 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 them clap.

The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the splendor of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtuous distress, of Katharine, have furnished some scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written.

JOHNSON.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from ..., Volumen2