Act V, Scene 1
SCENE I. A gallery in the palace.
[Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a page with a torch
before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.]
It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
It hath struck.
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?
Came you from the King, my lord?
I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
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.
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
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 thee 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
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
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 Archbishop
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 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' 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
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.
Many good-nights, my lord! I rest your servant.
[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.]
[Enter the King and Suffolk.]
Charles, I will play no more to-night.
My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.
Sir, I did never win of you before.
But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?
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.
What say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her? What, is she crying out?
So said her woman; and that her suff'rance made
Almost each pang a death.
Alas, good lady!
God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your Highness with an heir!
'Tis midnight, Charles;
Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company
Will not be friendly to.
I wish your Highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
[Enter Sir Anthony Denny.]
Well, sir, what follows?
Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop,
As you commanded me.
Ay, my good lord.
'Tis true; where is he, Denny?
(The entire section is 5,188 words.)