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
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.