Act Fifth.

Scene I.

London. A gallery in the palace.

Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.

It hath struck.

Gar. It's one o' clock, boy, is 't not?
Boy.
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us

Lov.

To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir

Thomas!

Whither so late?

Came you from the king, my lord? Gar. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lov.

I must to him too,

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? It seems you are in haste: an if there be

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No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: affairs that walk,

Lov.

Gar.

Lov.

Gar.

Lov.

As they say spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.

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.

The fruit she goes with 20

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.

Methinks I could
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

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.

Now, sir, you speak of two

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Gar.

The most remark'd i' the kingdom.

Cromwell,

As for

Beside that of the jewel house, is made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,
With which the time will load him. The arch-
bishop

Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak
One syllable against him?

Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day, 41
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have

Incensed the lords o' the 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

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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.

Lov. Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant.

[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

Enter King and Suffolk.

King, Charles, I will play no more to-night;

My mind's not on 't; you are too hard for me.
Suf. 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?

Lov. I could not personally deliver to her

King.

бо

What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.

What say'st thou, ha?

To pray for her? what, is she crying out? Lov. So said her woman, and that her sufferance made

Almost each pang a death.

King.
Alas, good lady!
Suf. God safely quit her of her burthen, and

King.

With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!

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'Tis midnight, Charles;

Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember

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Suf.

The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company

Would not be friendly to.

A quiet night, and my good mistress will

Remember in my prayers.

I wish your highness

King.

Charles, good night. [Exit Suffolk.

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Well, sir, what follows?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,

As you commanded me.

King.

Ha! Canterbury?

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Den. Ay, my good lord.

King.

'Tis true: where is he, Denny?

Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.

King.

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Bring him to us.

[Exit Denny.

Lov. [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.