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ACTON.

That's no fault in Brewers now-adays.

Come, away, about our business.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II. SCENE III. An audience-chamber in the palace at Eltham.

[Enter King Henry, Suffolk, Butler, and Old-castle kneeling to the King.]

KING.

Tis not enough, Lord Cobham, to submit;

You must forsake your gross opinion.

The Bishops find themselves much injured,

And though, for some good service you have done,

We for our part are pleased to pardon you,

Yet they will not so soon be satisfied.

COBHAM.

My gracious Lord, unto your Majesty,

Next unto my God, I owe my life:

And what is mine, either by nature's gift,

Or fortune's bounty, all is at your service.

But, for obedience to the Pope of Rome,

I owe him none, nor shall his shaveling priests

That are in England alter my belief.

If out of holy Scripture they can prove,

That I am in an error I will yield,

And gladly take instruction at their hands;

But otherwise, I do beseech your grace,

My conscience may not be encroached upon.

KING.

We would be loath to press our subjects' bodies,

Much less their souls, the dear redeemed part

Of him that is the ruler of us all;

Yet let me counsel ye, that might command:

Do not presume to tempt them with ill words,

Nor suffer any meetings to be had

Within your house, but to the uttermost,

Disperse the flocks of this new gathering sect.

COBHAM.

My liege, if any breathe, that dares come forth,

And say my life in any of these points

Deserves th'attaindor of ignoble thoughts,

Here stand I, craving no remorse at all,

But even the utmost rigor may be shown.

KING.

Let it suffice; we know your loyalty.

What have you there?

COBHAM.

A deed of clemency;

Your Highness' pardon for Lord Powis' life,

Which I did beg, and you, my noble Lord,

Of gracious favour did vouchsafe to grant.

KING.

But yet it is not signed with our hand.

COBHAM.

Not yet, my Liege.

[One ready with pen and ink.]

KING.

The fact, you say, was done,

Not of prepensed malice, but by chance.

COBHAM.

Upon mine honor so, no otherwise.

KING.

There is his pardon; bid him make amends,

[Writes.]

And cleanse his soul to God for his offence.

What we remit, is but the body's scourge—

[Enter Bishop.]

How now, Lord Bishop?

BISHOP.

Justice, dread Sovereign!

As thou art King, so grant I may have justice.

KING.

What means this exclamation? let us know.

BISHOP.

Ah, my good Lord, the state's abused,

And our decrees most shamefully profaned.

KING.

How? or by whom?

BISHOP.

Even by this heretic,

This Jew, this Traitor to your majesty.

COBHAM.

Prelate, thou liest, even in thy greasy maw,

Or whosoever twits me with the name

Of either traitor, or of heretic.

KING.

Forbear, I say: and, Bishop, shew the cause >From whence this late abuse hath been derived.

BISHOP.

Thus, mighty King:—By general consent,

A messenger was sent to cite this Lord,

To make appearance in the consistory;

And coming to his house, a ruffian slave,

One of his daily followers, met the man,

Who, knowing him to be a parroter,

Assaults him first and after, in contempt

Of us and our proceedings, makes him cate

The written process, parchment, scale and all:

Whereby his master neither was brought forth,

Nor we but scorned for our authority.

KING.

When was this done?

BISHOP.

At six a clock this morning.

KING.

And when came you to court?

COBHAM.

Last night, my Lord.

KING.

By this it seems, he is not guilty of it,

And you have done him wrong t'accuse him so.

BISHOP.

But it was done, my lord, by his appointment,

Or else his man durst ne'er have been so bold.

KING.

Or else you durst be bold to interrupt,

And fill our ears with frivolous complaints.

Is this the duty you do bear to us?

Was't not sufficient we did pass our word

To send for him, but you, misdoubting it,

Or—which is worse—intending to forestall

Our regal power, must likewise summon him?

This savors of Ambition, not of zeal,

And rather proves you malice his estate,

Than any way that he offends the law.

Go to, we like it not; and he your officer,

That was employed so much