K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it? Butts. There, my lord: K. Hen. Ha! 'T is he, indeed: Is this the honour they do one another? "T is 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, Let them alone, and draw the curtain close; The Council-Chamber. [Exeunt. 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 end, as secretary. 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? And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Chan. Let him come in. a Parted-shared. D. Keep. 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, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling 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, Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours, Yet freshly pitied in our memories. Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress, a We follow the original. Malone reads But we are all men, In our own natures frail, incapable; Of our flesh, few are angels." The text of the original is not clear, but it is not mended by this dilution. We believe that the poet attached a definite meaning to the expression " capable of our flesh." A man that more detests, more stirs against, 'Pray Heaven the king may never find a heart Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, 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 mo ment, We will be short with you. "T is 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. Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, 'Tis my undoing: Love and meekness, lord, In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, VOL. VII. Ꭱ For what they have been: 't is a cruelty, 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. Gar. Not sound, I say. Crom. Not sound? 'Would you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. 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 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 troublesome : I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 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. Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd? Cham. '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 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 Hea ven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; His royal self in judgment comes to hear K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flattery now; and in my presence, Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. Good man, [to CRANMER] sit down. Now let me see the proudest |