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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