That holy duty, out of dear respect,

His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commendations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flatteries now, and in my presence; They are too thin and bare to hide offences.

To me you cannot reach. You play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure,

Thou hast a cruel naturę, and a bloody.—

[To CRANMER.] Good man, sit down.

see the proudest,

Now let me

He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve

Than but once think this place becomes thee not.

Sur. May it please your grace,—

K. Hen.

No, sir, it does not please me

I had thought, I had had men of some under

standing

And wisdom of my Council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,

This good man,-few of you deserve that title,-
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber-door and one as great as you are?

Why, what a shame was this!

mission

Did my com

Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye

Power, as he was a Councillor to try him,

Not as a groom.

There's some of ye, I see,

More out of malice than integrity,

Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have while I live.

Chan.

Thus far,

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather—
If there be faith in men-meant for his trial
And fair purgation to the world, than malice,
I'm sure, in me.

K. Hen.

Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well; he's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him,-if a prince

May be beholding to a subject, I

Am, for his love and service, so to him.

Make me no more ado, but all embrace him :

Be friends, for shame, my lords-My Lord of Canterbury,

I have a suit which you must not deny me;

That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,

You must be god-father, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may

glory

In such an honour: how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your
spoons. You shall have

Two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of
Norfolk,

:

And Lady Marquess Dorset will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man.

Gar.

And brother-love, I do it.

Cran.

With a true heart,

And let Heaven

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified

Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of Canter

bury

A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.'-
Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain:
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.

Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take the Court for Paris-garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.

[Within.] Good master Porter, I belong to the larder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue! Is this a place to roar in ?-Fetch me a dozen cab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but svitches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale an 1 cakes here, you rude rascals?

Mo. Pray, sir, be patient: 't is as much impossible,

Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons, To atter 'em, as 't is to make 'em sleep

On May-day morning; which will never be. W may as well push against Paul's as stir them. 'ort. How got they in, and be hanged?

Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in }

A much as one sound cudgel of four foot

You see the poor remainder-could distribute,

I made no spare, sir.

Port.

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Col

brand,

To mow them down before me; but if I spared any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,

Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her.
[Within.] Do you hear, master porter?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to Court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, god-father, and all together.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in 's nose: all that stand