# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 89 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md QUEEN KATHERINE. Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this fellow Let me ne’er see again. [_Exit Messenger._] Enter Lord Caputius. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the Emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Caputius. CAPUTIUS. Madam, the same. Your servant. QUEEN KATHERINE. O my lord, The times and titles now are altered strangely With me since first you knew me. But I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? CAPUTIUS. Noble lady, First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, The King’s request that I would visit you, Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort. QUEEN KATHERINE. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late; ’Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic given in time had cured me, But now I am past all comforts here but prayers. How does his Highness? CAPUTIUS. Madam, in good health. QUEEN KATHERINE. So may he ever do, and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banished the kingdom. Patience, is that letter I caused you write yet sent away? PATIENCE. No, madam. [_Giving it to Katherine._] QUEEN KATHERINE. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the King. CAPUTIUS. Most willing, madam. QUEEN KATHERINE. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter— The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!— Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding— She is young and of a noble modest nature; I hope she will deserve well—and a little To love her for her mother’s sake that loved him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is that his noble Grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long Have followed both my fortunes faithfully; Of which there is not one, I dare avow— And now I should not lie—but will deserve, For virtue and true beauty of the soul, For honesty and decent carriage, A right good husband. Let him be a noble; And sure those men are happy that shall have ’em. The last is for my men—they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw ’em from me— That they may have their wages duly paid ’em, And something over to remember me by. If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents, and, good my lord, By that you love the dearest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, Stand these poor people’s friend, and urge the King To do me this last right. CAPUTIUS. By heaven, I will, Or let me lose the fashion of a man! QUEEN KATHERINE. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me In all humility unto his Highness. Say his long trouble now is passing Out of this world. Tell him in death I blessed him, For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used with honour. Strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me, Then lay me forth. Although unqueened, yet like A queen and daughter to a king inter me. I can no more. [_Exeunt leading Katherine._] ACT V SCENE I. 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? PAGE. 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 feared 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 grubbed up now. LOVELL. Methinks I could Cry the 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. You’re 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 remarked 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 more 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 ventured To speak my mind of him. And indeed this day, Sir—I may tell it you, I think—I have Incensed 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 Tomorrow 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 King and Suffolk. KING. Charles, I will play no more tonight. 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 returned her thanks In the great’st humbleness, and desired your Highness Most heartily to pray for her. KING. What sayst 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 prayers 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. Enter Cranmer and Denny. 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, give 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 considered, Have moved 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 Tower. You a brother of us, It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Would come against you. CRANMER. [_Kneeling_.] 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 halidom, What manner of man are you? My lord, I looked 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 endurance, 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 opposed, and with a malice Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, I mean in perjured witness, than your master, Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived 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. LOVELL. [_Within_.] Come back! What mean you? Enter Old Lady; Lovell follows. 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 delivered? 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. LOVELL. Sir? KING. Give her an hundred marks. I’ll to the Queen. [_Exit King._] 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._] SCENE II. 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 prayed me To make great haste. All fast? What means this? Ho! Who waits there? Enter Keeper. Sure you know me? KEEPER. Yes, my lord, But yet I cannot help you. CRANMER. Why? KEEPER. Your Grace must wait till you be called 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 passed 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 fulfilled, and I attend with patience. Enter the King and Butts at a 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 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. 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._] 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 hand, 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. 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’m 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 misdemeaned 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 informed—with new opinions, Divers and dangerous, which are heresies And, not reformed, 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 laboured, 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, 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. 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 conveyed 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 heaven! 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 vexed? 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 King, frowning on them; 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 judgement 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 purposed 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, 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 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 Marquess 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 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. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. 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 Parish Garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. ONE. [_Within_.] Good master porter, I belong to th’ larder. PORTER. Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, 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? PORTER’S 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 hanged? PORTER’S 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.