King Henry the Eighth

ACT IV. SCENE 1

A street in Westminster

Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting one another

 
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Y'are well met once again.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. So are you.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. You come to take your stand here, and
      behold
    The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter
    The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd
      sorrow;
    This, general joy.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis well. The citizens,
    I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds-
    As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward-
    In celebration of this day with shows,
    Pageants, and sights of honour.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Never greater,
    Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. May I be bold to ask what that contains,
    That paper in your hand?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes; 'tis the list
    Of those that claim their offices this day,
    By custom of the coronation.
    The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
    To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
    He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thank you, sir; had I not known
      those customs,
    I should have been beholding to your paper.
    But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
    The Princess Dowager? How goes her business?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
    Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
    Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
    Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles of
    From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which
    She was often cited by them, but appear'd not.
    And, to be short, for not appearance and
    The King's late scruple, by the main assent
    Of all these learned men, she was divorc'd,
    And the late marriage made of none effect;
    Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
    Where she remains now sick.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Alas, good lady!
[Trumpets]
    The trumpets sound. Stand close, the Queen is coming.
[Hautboys]
 

THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION.

 
    1. A lively flourish of trumpets.
    2. Then two JUDGES.
    3. LORD CHANCELLOR, with purse and mace before him.
    4. CHORISTERS singing.
[Music]
    5. MAYOR OF LONDON, bearing the mace. Then GARTER, in
       his coat of arms, and on his head he wore a gilt copper
       crown.
    6. MARQUIS DORSET, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a
       demi-coronal of gold. With him, the EARL OF SURREY,
       bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an
       earl's coronet. Collars of Esses.
    7. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet on
       his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward.
       With him, the DUKE OF NORFOLK, with the rod of
       marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of Esses.
    8. A canopy borne by four of the CINQUE-PORTS; under it
       the QUEEN in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with
       pearl, crowned. On each side her, the BISHOPS OF LONDON
       and WINCHESTER.
    9. The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold
       wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S train.
   10. Certain LADIES or COUNTESSES, with plain circlets of gold
       without flowers.
 

Exeunt, first passing over the stage in order and state, and then a great flourish of trumpets

 
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. A royal train, believe me. These know.
    Who's that that bears the sceptre?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Marquis Dorset;
    And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. A bold brave gentleman. That should be
    The Duke of Suffolk?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis the same-High Steward.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. And that my Lord of Norfolk?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. [Looking on the QUEEN] Heaven
      bless thee!
    Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.
    Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
    Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
    And more and richer, when he strains that lady;
    I cannot blame his conscience.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. They that bear
    The cloth of honour over her are four barons
    Of the Cinque-ports.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Those men are happy; and so are all
      are near her.
    I take it she that carries up the train
    Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. It is; and all the rest are countesses.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Their coronets say so. These are stars
indeed,
    And sometimes falling ones.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. No more of that.
                   Exit Procession, with a great flourish of
trumpets
 

Enter a third GENTLEMAN

 
    God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Among the crowds i' th' Abbey, where a finger
    Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled
    With the mere rankness of their joy.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. You saw
    The ceremony?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. That I did.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. How was it?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Well worth the seeing.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Good sir, speak it to us.
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. As well as I am able. The rich stream
    Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen
    To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell of
    A distance from her, while her Grace sat down
    To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,
    In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
    The beauty of her person to the people.
    Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
    That ever lay by man; which when the people
    Had the full view of, such a noise arose
    As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
    As loud, and to as many tunes; hats, cloaks-
    Doublets, I think-flew up, and had their faces
    Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
    I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
    That had not half a week to go, like rams
    In the old time of war, would shake the press,
    And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
    Could say 'This is my wife' there, all were woven
    So strangely in one piece.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what follow'd?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. At length her Grace rose, and with
      modest paces
    Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saintlike
    Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
    Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people;
    When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
    She had all the royal makings of a queen:
    As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
    The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
    Laid nobly on her; which perform'd, the choir,
    With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
    Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted,
    And with the same full state pac'd back again
    To York Place, where the feast is held.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sir,
    You must no more call it York Place: that's past:
    For since the Cardinal fell that title's lost.
    'Tis now the King's, and called Whitehall.
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. I know it;
    But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name
    Is fresh about me.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. What two reverend bishops
    Were those that went on each side of the Queen?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Stokesly and Gardiner: the one of Winchester,
    Newly preferr'd from the King's secretary;
    The other, London.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. He of Winchester
    Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's,
    The virtuous Cranmer.
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. All the land knows that;
    However, yet there is no great breach. When it comes,
    Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Who may that be, I pray you?
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Thomas Cromwell,
    A man in much esteem with th' King, and truly
    A worthy friend. The King has made him Master
    O' th' jewel House,
    And one, already, of the Privy Council.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. He will deserve more.
  THIRD GENTLEMAN. Yes, without all doubt.
    Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
    Is to th' court, and there ye shall be my guests:
    Something I can command. As I walk thither,
    I'll tell ye more.
  BOTH. You may command us, sir.
Exeunt
 

ACT IV. SCENE 2

Kimbolton

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH, her Gentleman Usher, and PATIENCE, her woman

 
  GRIFFITH. How does your Grace?
  KATHARINE. O Griffith, sick to death!
    My legs like loaden branches bow to th' earth,
    Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair.
    So-now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
    Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
    That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey,
    Was dead?
  GRIFFITH. Yes, madam; but I think your Grace,
    Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.
  KATHARINE. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died.
    If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
    For my example.
  GRIFFITH. Well, the voice goes, madam;
    For after the stout Earl Northumberland
    Arrested him at York and brought him forward,
    As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
    He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
    He could not sit his mule.
  KATHARINE. Alas, poor man!
  GRIFFITH. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
    Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
    With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him;
    To whom he gave these words: 'O father Abbot,
    An old man, broken with the storms of state,
    Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
    Give him a little earth for charity!'
    So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness
    Pursu'd him still And three nights after this,
    About the hour of eight-which he himself
    Foretold should be his last-full of repentance,
    Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
    He gave his honours to the world again,
    His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
  KATHARINE. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
    Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
    And yet with charity. He was a man
    Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
    Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion,
    Tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair play;
    His own opinion was his law. I' th' presence
    He would say untruths, and be ever double
    Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
    But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.
    His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
    But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
    Of his own body he was ill, and gave
    The clergy ill example.
  GRIFFITH. Noble madam,
    Men's evil manners live in brass: their virtues
    We write in water. May it please your Highness
    To hear me speak his good now?
  KATHARINE. Yes, good Griffith;
    I were malicious else.
  GRIFFITH. This Cardinal,
    Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
    Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
    He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
    Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
    Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not,
    But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.
    And though he were unsatisfied in getting-
    Which was a sin-yet in bestowing, madam,
    He was most princely: ever witness for him
    Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
    Ipswich and Oxford! One of which fell with him,
    Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
    The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
    So excellent in art, and still so rising,
    That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
    His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
    For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
    And found the blessedness of being little.
    And, to add greater honours to his age
    Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
  KATHARINE. After my death I wish no other herald,
    No other speaker of my living actions,
    To keep mine honour from corruption,
    But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
    Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
    With thy religious truth and modesty,
    Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him!
    patience, be near me still, and set me lower:
    I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
    Cause the musicians play me that sad note
    I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
    On that celestial harmony I go to.
                                              [Sad and solemn
music]
  GRIFFITH. She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
    For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
 

THE VISION.

Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six PERSONAGES clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies. Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven. And so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues

 
  KATHARINE. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
    And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
  GRIFFITH. Madam, we are here.
  KATHARINE. It is not you I call for.
    Saw ye none enter since I slept?
  GRIFFITH. None, madam.
  KATHARINE. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
    Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
    Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
    They promis'd me eternal happiness,
    And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
    I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly.
  GRIFFITH. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
    Possess your fancy.
  KATHARINE. Bid the music leave,
    They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music
ceases]
  PATIENCE. Do you note
    How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden?
    How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks,
    And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes.
  GRIFFITH. She is going, wench. Pray, pray.
  PATIENCE. Heaven comfort her!
 

Enter a MESSENGER

 
  MESSENGER. An't like your Grace-
  KATHARINE. You are a saucy fellow.
    Deserve we no more reverence?
  GRIFFITH. You are to blame,
    Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
    To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.
  MESSENGER. I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon;
    My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
    A gentleman, sent from the King, to see you.
  KATHARINE. Admit him entrance, Griffith; but this fellow
    Let me ne'er see again. Exit
MESSENGER
 

Enter LORD CAPUCIUS

 
    If my sight fail not,
    You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
    My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
  CAPUCIUS. Madam, the same-your servant.
  KATHARINE. O, my Lord,
    The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
    With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
    What is your pleasure with me?
  CAPUCIUS. 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.
  KATHARINE. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late,
    'Tis like a pardon after execution:
    That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
    But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
    How does his Highness?
  CAPUCIUS. Madam, in good health.
  KATHARINE. So may he ever do! and ever flourish
    When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
    Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter
    I caus'd you write yet sent away?
  PATIENCE. No, madam. [Giving it to
KATHARINE]
  KATHARINE. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
    This to my lord the King.
  CAPUCIUS. Most willing, madam.
  KATHARINE. 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 lov'd 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 follow'd 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 pleas'd 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.
  CAPUCIUS. By heaven, I will,
    Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
  KATHARINE. 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 bless'd 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 us'd 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 unqueen'd, yet like
    A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
    I can no more. Exeunt, leading
KATHARINE
 

ACT V. SCENE 1

London. 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?
  BOY. 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 fear'd
    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 grubb'd up now.
  LOVELL. Methinks I could
    Cry thee 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. Y'are 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 remark'd 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 moe 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 ventur'd
    To speak my mind of him; and indeed this day,
    Sir-I may tell it you-I think I have
    Incens'd 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
    To-morrow 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 the KING and the DUKE OF SUFFOLK

 
  KING. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
    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 return'd her thanks
    In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your Highness
    Most heartily to pray for her.
  KING. What say'st 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 pray'rs 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.
 

Re-enter DENNY, With CRANMER

 
  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, 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 consider'd,
    Have mov'd 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 Tow'r. You a brother of us,
    It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
    Would come against you.
  CRANMER. 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 holidame,
    What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
    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 indurance 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 oppos'd, and with a malice
    Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
    I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master,
    Whose minister you are, whiles here He liv'd
    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.
 

Enter OLD LADY

 
  GENTLEMAN. [Within] Come back; what mean you?
  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 deliver'd?
    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!
 

Enter LOVELL

 
  LOVELL. Sir?
  KING. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen.
Exit
  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