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 you 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 fouls with modesty again,
Caft none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do confcience
In doing daily wrongs. I could fay more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modeft.

Gard. My lord, my lord, you are a fectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted glofs discovers, (4)
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.

Gard. Good Mr. Secretary,

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, sav fo.

Crom. Why, my lord?

Gard. Do not I know you for a favourer

Of this new fect? ye are not found.
Crom. Not found ?

Gard. Not found, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honeft ! Men's prayers then would feek you, not their fears. Gard. I shall remember this bold language. Crom. Do:

Remember your bold life too.

Cham. This is too much;

Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gard. I have done.

Crom. And I.

Cham. 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

(4) Those that understand you, under this painted gloss, this fair outside difcover your empty talk and your falfe reasoning. JOHNS.

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 ?

Gard. What other

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

Cran. For me?

Enter the Guard.

Must I go like a traitor then ?

Gard. Receive him,

And see him safe i' the Tower.

Cran. 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.

Nor. Do you think, my lords,

The king will fuffer 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 yc.

Enter King, frowning on them; takes his Seat. Gard. Dread fovereign, how much are we bound to

heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wife, 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.

L

King. You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear fuch flatteries now; and in my prefence
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 fure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.
-Good man, fit down. Now, let me see the proudeft
[TO CRANMER.

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.
Sur. May it please your grace-
King. No, fir, 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 honeft man, wait like a lousy foot-boy
At chamber-door? and one as great as you are ?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission
Bid ye fo 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 fee,
More out of malice than integrity,

Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have, while I live.

Cham. Thus far,

My most dread fovereign, 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 fure, in me.

King. 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 fubject, 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 fuit which you must not deny me :

There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptifm;

You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory

In fuch an honour; How may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humbled subject to you ?

King. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons: [5]

You shall have

Two noble partners with you; the old dutchess of Norfolk,
And lady marquis Dorset: Will these please you ?
-Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace, and love this man.

Gard. With a true heart,

And brother's love, I do it.
Cran. And let heaven

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. [Embracing.
King. Good man, those joyful tears shew thy true heart.
The common voice, I see, is verified

Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury
But one 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 IV.

[Exeunt.

The Palace-Yard. 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 ? [6] ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.

Within. Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, you 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 chriftenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rafcals ?

Man. Pray, fir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible

[5] It was the custom, long before the time of Shakespeare, for the sponsors at chriftenings, to offer gilt spoons as a present to the child. These spoons were called Apostle Spoons, because the figures of the apostles were carved on the tops of the handles. Such as were at once opulent and generous, gave the whole twelve; those who were either more moderately rich or liberal, escaped at the expense of the four evangelifts; or even fometimes contented themselves with presenting one spoon only, which exhibited the figure of any faint, in honour of whom the child received its name. STE.. [6] Paris-Garden, the bear-garden of that time. JOHNS.

(Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons)
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep
On May-day morning; which will never be :
We may as well push against Paul's, as ftir 'em.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?
Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
As much as one found cudgel of four foot
(You fee the poor remainder) could diftribute,
I made no fpare, fir.

Port. You did nothing, fir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor fir Guy, nor Colebrand, [7] to mow 'em down before me; but, if I spar'd any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, 'cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to fee a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God fave her. Within. Do you hear, master porter?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. -Keep the door close, firrah.

Man. What would you have me do ?

Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Morefields to muster in ?[8] or have we fome strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so befiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at the door! On my chriftian confcience, this one chriftening will beget a thousand; here will be father, god-father, and all together.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, fir. There is a fellow fomewhat near the door, he should be a brafier by his face ;[9] for, o' my confcience, 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 discharg'd against me ; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling fuch a combuftion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once,[1] and hit that woman, who cry'd out, clubs! when I might fee from far fome forty truncheoneers draw to her fuccour, which were the hope