ACT V. SCENE 1.  London. A gallery in the palace  Enter GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, a PAGE with a torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS 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 despatch 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 thee 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. Y'are 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' th' kingdom. As for Cromwell,     Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master     O' th' Rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir,     Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,     With which the time will load him. Th' 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 ventur'd     To speak my mind of him; and indeed this day,     Sir-I may tell it you-I think I have     Incens'd the lords o' th' 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 the KING and the DUKE OF SUFFOLK    KING. Charles, I will play no more to-night;     My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.   SUFFOLK. Sir, I did never win of you before.   KING. 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 desir'd your Highness     Most heartily to pray for her.   KING. What say'st thou, ha?     To pray for her? What, is she crying out?   LOVELL. So said her woman; and that her suff'rance made     Almost each pang a death.   KING. Alas, good lady!   SUFFOLK. God safely quit her of her burden, and     With gentle travail, to the gladding of     Your Highness with an heir!   KING. 'Tis midnight, Charles;     Prithee to bed; and in thy pray'rs remember     Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone,     For I must think of that which company     Will not be friendly to.   SUFFOLK. I wish your Highness     A quiet night, and my good mistress will     Remember in my prayers.   KING. Charles, good night.                             Exit SUFFOLK           Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY      Well, sir, what follows?   DENNY. Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop,     As you commanded me.   KING. Ha! Canterbury?   DENNY. Ay, my good lord.   KING. 'Tis true. Where is he, Denny?   DENNY. He attends your Highness' pleasure.   KING. Bring him to us.                                   Exit DENNY   LOVELL.  [Aside]  This is about that which the bishop spake.     I am happily come hither.           Re-enter DENNY, With CRANMER    KING. 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. How now, my lord? You do desire to know     Wherefore I sent for you.   CRANMER.  [Kneeling]  It is my duty     T'attend your Highness' pleasure.   KING. 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, 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 mov'd 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 Tow'r. You a brother of us,     It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness     Would come against you.   CRANMER. I humbly thank your Highness     And am right glad to catch this good occasion     Most throughly to be winnowed 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. 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. Know you not     How your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world?     Your enemies are many, and not small; their practices     Must bear the same proportion; and not ever     The justice and the truth o' th' question carries     The due o' th' 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. Ween 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.   CRANMER. God and your Majesty     Protect mine innocence, or I fall into     The trap is laid for me!   KING. 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     Th' 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    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. 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. Lovell!             Enter LOVELL    LOVELL. Sir?   KING. 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'll     Have more, or else unsay't; and now, while 'tis hot,     I'll put it to the issue.                                  Exeunt     ACT V. SCENE 2.  Lobby before the Council Chamber  Enter CRANMER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY    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?   KEEPER. Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for.             Enter DOCTOR BUTTS    CRANMER. So.   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 councillor,     'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures     Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.           Enter the KING and BUTTS at window above    BUTTS. I'll show your Grace the strangest sight-   KING. What's that, Butts?   BUTTS. I think your Highness saw this many a day.   KING. Body a 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.   KING. 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     ACT V. SCENE 3.  The Council Chamber  A Council table brought in, with chairs and stools, and placed under the state. Enter LORD CHANCELLOR, places himself at the upper end of the table on the left band, a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's seat. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, DUKE OF NORFOLK, SURREY, LORD 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 approaches the Council table    CHANCELLOR. 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 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 mouth 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 councillor,     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, y'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 th' 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 th' Tower, my lords?   GARDINER. What other     Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.     Let some o' th' guard be ready there.             Enter the guard    CRANMER. For me?     Must I go like a traitor thither?   GARDINER. Receive him,     And see him safe i' th' 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 heav'n. I told ye all,     When we 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?   CHAMBERLAIN. '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 the KING frowning on them; he 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. 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 tak'st 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. 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 councillor 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 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'm sure, 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 beholding to a subject,     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. 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.   GARDINER. With a true heart     And brother-love I do it.   CRANMER. And let heaven     Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.   KING. 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's 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     ACT V. SCENE 4.  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 th' larder.]   PORTER. Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, 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 Paul'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 spar'd 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 th'     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     rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head,     for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the     meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out 'Clubs!'     when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw     to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where     she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place.     At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em     still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,     deliver'd such a show'r 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 the LORD 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? Y'have made a fine hand, fellows.     There's a trim rabble let in: are all these     Your faithful friends o' th' 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 an     By th' heels, and suddenly; and on your heads     Clap round fines for neglect. Y'are lazy knaves;     And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when     Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;     Th' are come already from the christening.     Go break among the press and find a way out     To let the troops 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' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail;     I'll peck you o'er the pales else.                         Exeunt     ACT V. SCENE 5.  The palace  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, etc., 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 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. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop.     What is her name?   CRANMER. Elizabeth.   KING. Stand up, lord.                   [The KING kisses the child]     With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!     Into whose hand I give thy life.   CRANMER. Amen.   KING. My noble gossips, y'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 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 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 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. 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 th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.   KING. O Lord Archbishop,     Thou hast made me now a man; never before     This happy child did I get anything.     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 you, good brethren, I am much beholding;     I have receiv'd 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  KING_HENRY_VIII|EPILOGUE               THE 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,     W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,     They'll say 'tis nought; 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 w'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 '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.  THE END