Kitabı oku: «King Henry the Eighth», sayfa 3

ACT II. SCENE 2

London. The palace

Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN reading this letter

 
  CHAMBERLAIN. 'My lord,
    'The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care
    had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were
    young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north.
    When they were ready to set out for London, a man of
    my Lord Cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took
    'em from me, with this reason: his master would be serv'd
    before a subject, if not before the King; which stopp'd
    our mouths, sir.'
 
 
    I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them.
    He will have all, I think.
 

Enter to the LORD CHAMBERLAIN the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK

 
  NORFOLK. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
  CHAMBERLAIN. Good day to both your Graces.
  SUFFOLK. How is the King employ'd?
  CHAMBERLAIN. I left him private,
    Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
  NORFOLK. What's the cause?
  CHAMBERLAIN. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
    Has crept too near his conscience.
  SUFFOLK. No, his conscience
    Has crept too near another lady.
  NORFOLK. 'Tis so;
    This is the Cardinal's doing; the King-Cardinal,
    That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
    Turns what he list. The King will know him one day.
  SUFFOLK. Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else.
  NORFOLK. How holily he works in all his business!
    And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the league
    Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew,
    He dives into the King's soul and there scatters
    Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
    Fears, and despairs-and all these for his marriage;
    And out of all these to restore the King,
    He counsels a divorce, a loss of her
    That like a jewel has hung twenty years
    About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
    Of her that loves him with that excellence
    That angels love good men with; even of her
    That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
    Will bless the King-and is not this course pious?
  CHAMBERLAIN. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
    These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em,
    And every true heart weeps for 't. All that dare
    Look into these affairs see this main end-
    The French King's sister. Heaven will one day open
    The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon
    This bold bad man.
  SUFFOLK. And free us from his slavery.
  NORFOLK. We had need pray, and heartily, for our deliverance;
    Or this imperious man will work us an
    From princes into pages. All men's honours
    Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
    Into what pitch he please.
  SUFFOLK. For me, my lords,
    I love him not, nor fear him-there's my creed;
    As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
    If the King please; his curses and his blessings
    Touch me alike; th' are breath I not believe in.
    I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
    To him that made him proud-the Pope.
  NORFOLK. Let's in;
    And with some other business put the King
    From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.
    My lord, you'll bear us company?
  CHAMBERLAIN. Excuse me,
    The King has sent me otherwhere; besides,
    You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
    Health to your lordships!
  NORFOLK. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
                            Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN; and the KING
draws
                               the curtain and sits reading
pensively
  SUFFOLK. How sad he looks; sure, he is much afflicted.
  KING. Who's there, ha?
  NORFOLK. Pray God he be not angry.
  KING HENRY. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
    Into my private meditations?
    Who am I, ha?
  NORFOLK. A gracious king that pardons all offences
    Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way
    Is business of estate, in which we come
    To know your royal pleasure.
  KING. Ye are too bold.
    Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business.
    Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
 

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS with a commission

 
    Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey,
    The quiet of my wounded conscience,
    Thou art a cure fit for a King. [To CAMPEIUS] You're
      welcome,
    Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom.
    Use us and it. [To WOLSEY] My good lord, have great care
    I be not found a talker.
  WOLSEY. Sir, you cannot.
    I would your Grace would give us but an hour
    Of private conference.
  KING. [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK] We are busy; go.
  NORFOLK. [Aside to SUFFOLK] This priest has no pride in him!
  SUFFOLK. [Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of!
    I would not be so sick though for his place.
    But this cannot continue.
  NORFOLK. [Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do,
    I'll venture one have-at-him.
  SUFFOLK. [Aside to NORFOLK] I another.
                                           Exeunt NORFOLK and
SUFFOLK
  WOLSEY. Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom
    Above all princes, in committing freely
    Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
    Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?
    The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
    Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
    The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
    I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms
    Have their free voices. Rome the nurse of judgment,
    Invited by your noble self, hath sent
    One general tongue unto us, this good man,
    This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,
    Whom once more I present unto your Highness.
  KING. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
    And thank the holy conclave for their loves.
    They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.
  CAMPEIUS. Your Grace must needs deserve an strangers' loves,
    You are so noble. To your Highness' hand
    I tender my commission; by whose virtue-
    The court of Rome commanding-you, my Lord
    Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant
    In the unpartial judging of this business.
  KING. Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted
    Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
  WOLSEY. I know your Majesty has always lov'd her
    So dear in heart not to deny her that
    A woman of less place might ask by law-
    Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.
  KING. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour
    To him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal,
    Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
    I find him a fit fellow. Exit
WOLSEY
 

Re-enter WOLSEY with GARDINER

 
  WOLSEY. [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand: much
      joy and favour to you;
    You are the King's now.
  GARDINER. [Aside to WOLSEY] But to be commanded
    For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
  KING. Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks and
whispers]
  CAMPEIUS. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
    In this man's place before him?
  WOLSEY. Yes, he was.
  CAMPEIUS. Was he not held a learned man?
  WOLSEY. Yes, surely.
  CAMPEIUS. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
    Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
  WOLSEY. How! Of me?
  CAMPEIUS. They will not stick to say you envied him
    And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
    Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him
    That he ran mad and died.
  WOLSEY. Heav'n's peace be with him!
    That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers
    There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
    For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow,
    If I command him, follows my appointment.
    I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
    We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
  KING. Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen.
                                                        Exit
GARDINER
    The most convenient place that I can think of
    For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars;
    There ye shall meet about this weighty business-
    My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,
    Would it not grieve an able man to leave
    So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!
    O, 'tis a tender place! and I must leave her.
 

Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 3

London. The palace

Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY

 
  ANNE. Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches:
    His Highness having liv'd so long with her, and she
    So good a lady that no tongue could ever
    Pronounce dishonour of her-by my life,
    She never knew harm-doing-O, now, after
    So many courses of the sun enthroned,
    Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
    To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
    'Tis sweet at first t' acquire-after this process,
    To give her the avaunt, it is a pity
    Would move a monster.
  OLD LADY. Hearts of most hard temper
    Melt and lament for her.
  ANNE. O, God's will! much better
    She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal,
    Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
    It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
    As soul and body's severing.
  OLD LADY. Alas, poor lady!
    She's a stranger now again.
  ANNE. So much the more
    Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
    I swear 'tis better to be lowly born
    And range with humble livers in content
    Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief
    And wear a golden sorrow.
  OLD LADY. Our content
    Is our best having.
  ANNE. By my troth and maidenhead,
    I would not be a queen.
  OLD LADY. Beshrew me, I would,
    And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would you,
    For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
    You that have so fair parts of woman on you
    Have too a woman's heart, which ever yet
    Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
    Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,
    Saving your mincing, the capacity
    Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive
    If you might please to stretch it.
  ANNE. Nay, good troth.
  OLD LADY. Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen!
  ANNE. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
  OLD LADY. 'Tis strange: a threepence bow'd would hire me,
    Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,
    What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs
    To bear that load of title?
  ANNE. No, in truth.
  OLD LADY. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little;
    I would not be a young count in your way
    For more than blushing comes to. If your back
    Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
    Ever to get a boy.
  ANNE. How you do talk!
    I swear again I would not be a queen
    For all the world.
  OLD LADY. In faith, for little England
    You'd venture an emballing. I myself
    Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd
    No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
 

Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN

 
  CHAMBERLAIN. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know
    The secret of your conference?
  ANNE. My good lord,
    Not your demand; it values not your asking.
    Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
  CHAMBERLAIN. It was a gentle business and becoming
    The action of good women; there is hope
    All will be well.
  ANNE. Now, I pray God, amen!
  CHAMBERLAIN. You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings
    Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
    Perceive I speak sincerely and high notes
    Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's Majesty
    Commends his good opinion of you to you, and
    Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
    Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which tide
    A thousand pound a year, annual support,
    Out of his grace he adds.
  ANNE. I do not know
    What kind of my obedience I should tender;
    More than my all is nothing, nor my prayers
    Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes
    More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
    Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
    Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
    As from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness;
    Whose health and royalty I pray for.
  CHAMBERLAIN. Lady,
    I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit
    The King hath of you. [Aside] I have perus'd her well:
    Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
    That they have caught the King; and who knows yet
    But from this lady may proceed a gem
    To lighten all this isle? – I'll to the King
    And say I spoke with you.
  ANNE. My honour'd lord! Exit LORD
CHAMBERLAIN
  OLD LADY. Why, this it is: see, see!
    I have been begging sixteen years in court-
    Am yet a courtier beggarly-nor could
    Come pat betwixt too early and too late
    For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!
    A very fresh-fish here-fie, fie, fie upon
    This compell'd fortune! – have your mouth fill'd up
    Before you open it.
  ANNE. This is strange to me.
  OLD LADY. How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no.
    There was a lady once-'tis an old story-
    That would not be a queen, that would she not,
    For all the mud in Egypt. Have you heard it?
  ANNE. Come, you are pleasant.
  OLD LADY. With your theme I could
    O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
    A thousand pounds a year for pure respect!
    No other obligation! By my life,
    That promises moe thousands: honour's train
    Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
    I know your back will bear a duchess. Say,
    Are you not stronger than you were?
  ANNE. Good lady,
    Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
    And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
    If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me
    To think what follows.
    The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
    In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver
    What here y' have heard to her.
  OLD LADY. What do you think me?
 

Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 4

London. A hall in Blackfriars

Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two VERGERS, with short silver wands; next them, two SCRIBES, in the habit of doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a GENTLEMAN bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a Cardinal's hat; then two PRIESTS, bearing each silver cross; then a GENTLEMAN USHER bareheaded, accompanied with a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS bearing a silver mace; then two GENTLEMEN bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; two NOBLEMEN with the sword and mace. Then enter the KING and QUEEN and their trains. The KING takes place under the cloth of state; the two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place some distance from the KING. The BISHOPS place themselves on each side of the court, in manner of consistory; below them the SCRIBES. The LORDS sit next the BISHOPS. The rest of the attendants stand in convenient order about the stage

 
  WOLSEY. Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
    Let silence be commanded.
  KING. What's the need?
    It hath already publicly been read,
    And on all sides th' authority allow'd;
    You may then spare that time.
  WOLSEY. Be't so; proceed.
  SCRIBE. Say 'Henry King of England, come into the court.'
  CRIER. Henry King of England, &c.
  KING. Here.
  SCRIBE. Say 'Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.'
  CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, &c.
 

The QUEEN makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the KING, and kneels at his feet; then speaks

 
  QUEEN KATHARINE. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,
    And to bestow your pity on me; for
    I am a most poor woman and a stranger,
    Born out of your dominions, having here
    No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
    Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
    In what have I offended you? What cause
    Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure
    That thus you should proceed to put me of
    And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
    I have been to you a true and humble wife,
    At all times to your will conformable,
    Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
    Yea, subject to your countenance-glad or sorry
    As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour
    I ever contradicted your desire
    Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
    Have I not strove to love, although I knew
    He were mine enemy? What friend of mine
    That had to him deriv'd your anger did
    Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice
    He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind
    That I have been your wife in this obedience
    Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
    With many children by you. If, in the course
    And process of this time, you can report,
    And prove it too against mine honour, aught,
    My bond to wedlock or my love and duty,
    Against your sacred person, in God's name,
    Turn me away and let the foul'st contempt
    Shut door upon me, and so give me up
    To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,
    The King, your father, was reputed for
    A prince most prudent, of an excellent
    And unmatch'd wit and judgment; Ferdinand,
    My father, King of Spain, was reckon'd one
    The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many
    A year before. It is not to be question'd
    That they had gather'd a wise council to them
    Of every realm, that did debate this business,
    Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
    Beseech you, sir, to spare me till I may
    Be by my friends in Spain advis'd, whose counsel
    I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God,
    Your pleasure be fulfill'd!
  WOLSEY. You have here, lady,
    And of your choice, these reverend fathers-men
    Of singular integrity and learning,
    Yea, the elect o' th' land, who are assembled
    To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless
    That longer you desire the court, as well
    For your own quiet as to rectify
    What is unsettled in the King.
  CAMPEIUS. His Grace
    Hath spoken well and justly; therefore, madam,
    It's fit this royal session do proceed
    And that, without delay, their arguments
    Be now produc'd and heard.
  QUEEN KATHARINE. Lord Cardinal,
    To you I speak.
  WOLSEY. Your pleasure, madam?
  QUEEN KATHARINE. Sir,
    I am about to weep; but, thinking that
    We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain
    The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
    I'll turn to sparks of fire.
  WOLSEY. Be patient yet.
  QUEEN KATHARINE. I Will, when you are humble; nay, before
    Or God will punish me. I do believe,
    Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
    You are mine enemy, and make my challenge
    You shall not be my judge; for it is you
    Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me-
    Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,
    I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
    Refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more
    I hold my most malicious foe and think not
    At all a friend to truth.
  WOLSEY. I do profess
    You speak not like yourself, who ever yet
    Have stood to charity and display'd th' effects
    Of disposition gentle and of wisdom
    O'ertopping woman's pow'r. Madam, you do me wrong:
    I have no spleen against you, nor injustice
    For you or any; how far I have proceeded,
    Or how far further shall, is warranted
    By a commission from the Consistory,
    Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me
    That I have blown this coal: I do deny it.
    The King is present; if it be known to him
    That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,
    And worthily, my falsehood! Yea, as much
    As you have done my truth. If he know
    That I am free of your report, he knows
    I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
    It lies to cure me, and the cure is to
    Remove these thoughts from you; the which before
    His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech
    You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking
    And to say so no more.
  QUEEN KATHARINE. My lord, my lord,
    I am a simple woman, much too weak
    T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek and humble-mouth'd;
    You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
    With meekness and humility; but your heart
    Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
    You have, by fortune and his Highness' favours,
    Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
    Where pow'rs are your retainers, and your words,
    Domestics to you, serve your will as't please
    Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you
    You tender more your person's honour than
    Your high profession spiritual; that again
    I do refuse you for my judge and here,
    Before you all, appeal unto the Pope,
    To bring my whole cause 'fore his Holiness
    And to be judg'd by him.
                     [She curtsies to the KING, and offers to
depart]
  CAMPEIUS. The Queen is obstinate,
    Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
    Disdainful to be tried by't; 'tis not well.
    She's going away.
  KING. Call her again.
  CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
  GENTLEMAN USHER. Madam, you are call'd back.
  QUEEN KATHARINE. What need you note it? Pray you keep your way;
    When you are call'd, return. Now the Lord help!
    They vex me past my patience. Pray you pass on.
    I will not tarry; no, nor ever more
    Upon this business my appearance make
    In any of their courts. Exeunt QUEEN and her
attendants
  KING. Go thy ways, Kate.
    That man i' th' world who shall report he has
    A better wife, let him in nought be trusted
    For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone-
    If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
    Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
    Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
    Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out-
    The queen of earthly queens. She's noble born;
    And like her true nobility she has
    Carried herself towards me.
  WOLSEY. Most gracious sir,
    In humblest manner I require your Highness
    That it shall please you to declare in hearing
    Of all these ears-for where I am robb'd and bound,
    There must I be unloos'd, although not there
    At once and fully satisfied-whether ever I
    Did broach this business to your Highness, or
    Laid any scruple in your way which might
    Induce you to the question on't, or ever
    Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
    A royal lady, spake one the least word that might
    Be to the prejudice of her present state,
    Or touch of her good person?
  KING. My Lord Cardinal,
    I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,
    I free you from't. You are not to be taught
    That you have many enemies that know not
    Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
    Bark when their fellows do. By some of these
    The Queen is put in anger. Y'are excus'd.
    But will you be more justified? You ever
    Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desir'd
    It to be stirr'd; but oft have hind'red, oft,
    The passages made toward it. On my honour,
    I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point,
    And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't,
    I will be bold with time and your attention.
    Then mark th' inducement. Thus it came-give heed to't:
    My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
    Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
    By th' Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,
    Who had been hither sent on the debating
    A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
    Our daughter Mary. I' th' progress of this business,
    Ere a determinate resolution, he-
    I mean the Bishop-did require a respite
    Wherein he might the King his lord advertise
    Whether our daughter were legitimate,
    Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
    Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
    The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
    Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
    The region of my breast, which forc'd such way
    That many maz'd considerings did throng
    And press'd in with this caution. First, methought
    I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had
    Commanded nature that my lady's womb,
    If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
    Do no more offices of life to't than
    The grave does to the dead; for her male issue
    Or died where they were made, or shortly after
    This world had air'd them. Hence I took a thought
    This was a judgment on me, that my kingdom,
    Well worthy the best heir o' th' world, should not
    Be gladded in't by me. Then follows that
    I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
    By this my issue's fail, and that gave to me
    Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
    The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
    Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
    Now present here together; that's to say
    I meant to rectify my conscience, which
    I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,
    By all the reverend fathers of the land
    And doctors learn'd. First, I began in private
    With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember
    How under my oppression I did reek,
    When I first mov'd you.
  LINCOLN. Very well, my liege.
  KING. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say
    How far you satisfied me.
  LINCOLN. So please your Highness,
    The question did at first so stagger me-
    Bearing a state of mighty moment in't
    And consequence of dread-that I committed
    The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt,
    And did entreat your Highness to this course
    Which you are running here.
  KING. I then mov'd you,
    My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
    To make this present summons. Unsolicited
    I left no reverend person in this court,
    But by particular consent proceeded
    Under your hands and seals; therefore, go on,
    For no dislike i' th' world against the person
    Of the good Queen, but the sharp thorny points
    Of my alleged reasons, drives this forward.
    Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life
    And kingly dignity, we are contented
    To wear our moral state to come with her,
    Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
    That's paragon'd o' th' world.
  CAMPEIUS. So please your Highness,
    The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
    That we adjourn this court till further day;
    Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
    Made to the Queen to call back her appeal
    She intends unto his Holiness.
  KING. [Aside] I may perceive
    These cardinals trifle with me. I abhor
    This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
    My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
    Prithee return. With thy approach I know
    My comfort comes along. – Break up the court;
    I say, set on. Exuent in manner as they
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