Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

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5.2 Enter ⌈pursuivants, pages, footboys, and grooms. Then enter⌉ Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury

CRANMER

I hope I am not too late, and yet the gentleman

That was sent to me from the council prayed me

To make great haste. All fast? What means this?

(Calling at the door) Ho!

Who waits there?

Enter a Doorkeeper

Sure you know me?

DOORKEEPER

Yes, my lord,

But yet I cannot help you.

CRANMER

Why?

⌈Enter Doctor Butts, passing over the stage⌉

DOORKEEPER

Your grace must wait till you be called for.

CRANMER

So.

BUTTS (aside)

This is a piece of malice. I am glad

I came this way so happily. The King

Shall understand it presently.

Exit

CRANMER (aside)

‘Tis Butts, The King’s physician. As he passed along

How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!

Pray heaven he found not my disgrace. For certain

This is of purpose laid by some that hate me—

God turn their hearts, I never sought their malice—

To quench mine honour. They would shame to make me

Wait else at door, a fellow Councillor,

’Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures

Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.

Enter King Henry and Doctor Butts at a window, above

BUTTS

I’ll show your grace the strangest sight—

KING HENRY

What’s that, Butts?

BUTTS

I think your highness saw this many a day.

KING HENRY

Body o’me, where is it?

BUTTS (pointing at Cranmer, below)

There, my lord. The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury,

Who holds his state at door, ’mongst pursuivants,

Pages, and footboys.

KING HENRY

Ha? ‘Tis he indeed.

Is this the honour they do one another?

’Tis well there’s one above ’em yet. I had thought

They had parted so much honesty among ’em—

At least good manners—as not thus to suffer

A man of his place and so near our favour

To dance attendance on their lordships’ pleasures,

And at the door, too, like a post with packets!

By holy Mary, Butts, there’s knavery!

Let ’em alone, and draw the curtain close.

We shall hear more anon.

⌈Cranmer and the doorkeeper stand to one side. Exeunt the lackeys⌉ Above, Butts ⌈partly⌉ draws the curtain close. Below, a council table is brought in along with chairs and stools, and placed under the cloth of state. Enter the Lord Chancellor, who places himself at the upper end of the table, on the left hand, leaving a seat void above him at the table’s head as for Canterbury’s seat. The Duke of Suffolk, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Surrey, the Lord Chamberlain, and Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, seat themselves in order on each side of the table. Cromwell sits at the lower end, and acts as secretary

LORD CHANCELLOR (to Cromwell)

Speak to the business, master secretary.

Why are we met in council?

CROMWELL

Please your honours,

The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.

GARDINER

Has he had knowledge of it?

CROMWELL

Yes.

NORFOLK (to the Doorkeeper)

Who waits there?

DOORKEEPER ⌈coming forward⌉

Without, my noble lords?

GARDINER

Yes.

DOORKEEPER

My lord Archbishop;

And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.

LORD CHANCELLOR

Let him come in.

DOORKEEPER (to Cranmer) Your grace may enter now.

Cranmer approaches the Council table

LORD CHANCELLOR

My good lord Archbishop, I’m very sorry

To sit here at this present and behold

That chair stand empty, but we all are men

In our own natures frail, and capable

Of our flesh; few are angels; out of which frailty

And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,

Have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little,

Toward the King first, then his laws, in filling

The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains’—

For so we are informed—with new opinions,

Diverse and dangerous, which are heresies,

And, not reformed, may prove pernicious.

GARDINER

Which reformation must be sudden too,

My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses

Pace ’em not in their hands to make ’em gentle,

But stop their mouths with stubborn bits and spur ’em

Till they obey the manège. If we suffer,

Out of our easiness and childish pity

To one man’s honour, this contagious sickness,

Farewell all physic—and what follows then?

Commotions, uproars—with a general taint

Of the whole state, as of late days our neighbours,

The upper Germany, can dearly witness,

Yet freshly pitied in our memories. 65

CRANMER

My good lords, hitherto in all the progress

Both of my life and office, I have laboured,

And with no little study, that my teaching

And the strong course of my authority

Might go one way, and safely; and the end

Was ever to do well. Nor is there living—

I speak it with a single heart, my lords—

A man that more detests, more stirs against,

Both in his private conscience and his place,

Defacers of a public peace than I do.

Pray heaven the King may never find a heart

With less allegiance in it. Men that make

Envy and crooked malice nourishment

Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships

That, in this case of justice, my accusers,

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,

And freely urge against me.

SUFFOLK

Nay, my lord,

That cannot be. You are a Councillor,

And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.

GARDINER (to Cranmer)

My lord, because we have business of more moment,

We will be short with you. ’Tis his highness’ pleasure

And our consent, for better trial of you,

From hence you be committed to the Tower

Where, being but a private man again,

You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,

More than, I fear, you are provided for.

CRANMER

Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you.

You are always my good friend. If your will pass,

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,

You are so merciful. I see your end—

’Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord,

Become a churchman better than ambition.

Win straying souls with modesty again;

Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,

Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,

I make as little doubt as you do conscience

In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,

But reverence to your calling makes me modest.

GARDINER

My lord, my lord—you are a sectary,

That’s the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers,

To men that understand you, words and weakness.

CROMWELL (to Gardiner)

My lord of Winchester, you’re a little,

By your good favour, too sharp. Men so noble,

However faulty, yet should find respect

For what they have been. ’Tis a cruelty

To load a falling man.

GARDINER

Good master secretary,

I cry your honour mercy. You may worst

Of all this table say so.

CROMWELL

Why, my lord?

GARDINER

Do not I know you for a favourer

Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.

CROMWELL

Not sound?

GARDINER

Not sound, I say.

CROMWELL

Would you were half so honest!

Men’s prayers then would seek you, not their fears.

GARDINER

I shall remember this bold language.

CROMWELL

Do.

Remember your bold life, too.

LORD CHANCELLOR

This is too much.

Forbear, for shame, my lords.

GARDINER

I have done.

CROMWELL

And I.

LORD CHANCELLOR (to Cranmer)

Then thus for you, my lord. It stands agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith

You be conveyed to th’ Tower a prisoner,

There to remain till the King’s further pleasure

Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?

ALL THE COUNCIL

We are.

CRANMER Is there no other way of mercy,

But I must needs to th’ Tower, my lords?

GARDINER

What other

Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.

Let some o’th’ guard be ready there.

Enter the guard

CRANMER

For me?

Must I go like a traitor thither?

GARDINER (to the guard)

Receive him,

And see him safe i’th’ Tower.

CRANMER

Stay, good my lords.

I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords—

He shows the King’s ring

By virtue of that ring I take my cause

Out of the grips of cruel men, and give it

To a most noble judge, the King my master.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

This is the King’s ring.

SURREY

’Tis no counterfeit.

SUFFOLK

’Tis the right ring, by heav’n. I told ye all

When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling

’Twould fall upon ourselves.

NORFOLK

Do you think, my lords,

The King will suffer but the little finger

Of this man to be vexed?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

’Tis now too certain.

How much more is his life in value with him!

Would I were fairly out on’t.

⌈Exit King with Butts above⌉

CROMWELL

My mind gave me,

In seeking tales and informations

Against this man, whose honesty the devil

And his disciples only envy at,

Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye!

Enter, below, King Henry frowning on them. He takes his seat

GARDINER

Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince,

Not only good and wise, but most religious.

One that in all obedience makes the church

The chief aim of his honour, and, to strengthen

That holy duty, out of dear respect,

His royal self in judgement comes to hear

The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

KING HENRY

You were ever good at sudden commendations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not

To hear such flattery now; and in my presence

They are too thin and base 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 nature and a bloody.

(To Cranmer) Good man, sit down.

Cranmer takes his seat at the head of the Council table

Now let me see the proudest,

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.

SURREY

May it please your grace—

KING HENRY

No, sir, it does not please me!

I had thought I had had men of some understanding

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! Did my commission

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.

LORD CHANCELLOR

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.

KING HENRY

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 beholden 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. (To Cranmer) 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 godfather, and answer for her.

CRANMER

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?

KING HENRY Come, come, my lord—you’d spare your spoons. You shall have two noble partners with you—the old Duchess of Norfolk and Lady Marquis Dorset. Will these please you?

(To Gardiner) Once more, my lord of Winchester, I

charge you

Embrace and love this man.

GARDINER

With a true heart

And brother-love I do it.

⌈Gardiner and Cranmer embrace⌉

CRANMER (weeping)

And let heaven

Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

KING HENRY

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 Canterbury

A shrewd turn, and he’s 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

5.3 Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter ⌈with rushes⌉ and his man ⌈with a broken cudgel⌉

PORTER (to those within)

You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take

The court for Paris Garden, ye rude slaves?

Leave your gaping.

ONE (within)

Good master porter, I belong to th’ larder.

PORTER

Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue!

Is this a place to roar in?

(To his man)

Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones,

⌈Raising his rushes⌉ These are but switches to ’em.

(To those within)

I’ll scratch your heads.

You must be seeing christenings? Do you look

For ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?

MAN

Pray, sir, be patient. ’Tis as much impossible,

Unless we sweep ’em from the door with cannons,

To scatter ’em as ’tis to make ’em sleep

On May-day morning—which will never be.

We may as well push against Paul’s as stir ’em.

PORTER How got they in, and be hanged?

MAN

Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in?

As much as one sound cudgel of four foot—

He raises his cudgel

You see the poor remainder—could distribute,

I made no spare, sir.

PORTER

You did nothing, sir.

MAN

I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,

To mow ‘em 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!

ONE (within) Do you hear, master porter?

PORTER

I shall be with you presently,

Good master puppy. (To his man) Keep the door close,

sirrah.

MAN

What would you have me do?

PORTER

What should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ 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, godfather, 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 about him are under the line—they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me. He stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher’s wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out ‘Clubs!’, when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o’th’ Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on. I made good my place. At length they came to th’ broomstaff to me. I defied ’em still, when suddenly a file of boys behind ‘em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles that I was fain to draw mine honour in and let ’em win the work. The devil was amongst ’em, I think, surely.

PORTER These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of ’em in limbo patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days, besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Mercy o’ me, what a multitude are here!

They grow still, too—from all parts they are coming,

As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,

These lazy knaves? (To the Porter and his man) You’ve

made a fine hand, fellows!

There’s a trim rabble let in—are all these

Your faithful friends o’th’ suburbs? We shall have

Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies

When they pass back from the christening!

PORTER

An’t please your honour,

We are but men, and what so many may do,

Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.

An army cannot rule ’em.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

As I live, If the King blame me for’t, I’ll lay ye all

By th’ heels, and suddenly—and on your heads

Clap round fines for neglect. You’re lazy knaves,

And here ye lie baiting of bombards when

Ye should do service.

Flourish of trumpets within

Hark, the trumpets sound.

They’re come, already, from the christening.

Go break among the press, and find a way out

To let the troop pass fairly, or I’ll find

A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.

⌈As they leave, the Porter and his man call within⌉

PORTER

Make way there for the Princess!

MAN

You great fellow,

Stand close up, or I’ll make your head ache.

PORTER

You i’th’ camlet, get up o’th’ rail—

I’ll peck you o’er the pales else.

Exeunt

5.4 Enter trumpeters, sounding. Then enter two aldermen, the Lord Mayor of London, Garter King-of-Arms, Cranmer the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Duke of Norfolk with his marshal’s staff, the Duke of Suffolk, two noblemen bearing great standing bowls for the christening gifts; then enter four noblemen bearing a canopy, under which is the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child Elizabeth richly habited in a mantle, whose train is borne by a lady. Then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage and Garter speaks

GARTER Heaven, from thy endless goodness send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King Henry and guard

CRANMER (kneeling)

And to your royal grace, and the good Queen!

My noble partners and myself thus pray

All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,

Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,

May hourly fall upon ye.

KING HENRY

Thank you, good lord Archbishop.

What is her name?

CRANMER

Elizabeth.

KING HENRY

Stand up, lord.

Cranmer rises

(To the child) With this kiss take my blessing—

He kisses the child

God protect thee,

Into whose hand I give thy life.

CRANMER

Amen.

KING HENRY (to Cranmer, old Duchess, and Marchioness) My noble gossips, you’ve been too prodigal. I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady, When she has so much English.

CRANMER

Let me speak, sir,

For heaven now bids me, and the words I utter

Let none think flattery, for they’ll find ’em truth.

This royal infant—heaven still move about her—

Though in her cradle, yet now promises

Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings

Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be—

But few now living can behold that goodness—

A pattern to all princes living with her,

And all that shall succeed. Saba was never

More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue

Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces

That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,

With all the virtues that attend the good,

Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her,

Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her.

She shall be loved and feared. Her own shall bless her;

Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,

And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with

her.

In her days every man shall eat in safety

Under his own vine what he plants, and sing

The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.

God shall be truly known, and those about her

From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,

And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her, but, as when

The bird of wonder dies—the maiden phoenix—

Her ashes new create another heir

As great in admiration as herself,

So shall she leave her blessedness to one,

When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,

Who from the sacred ashes of her honour

Shall star-like rise as great in fame as she was,

And so stand fixed. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,

That were the servants to this chosen infant,

Shall then be his, and, like a vine, grow to him.

Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,

His honour and the greatness of his name

Shall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish,

And like a mountain cedar reach his branches

To all the plains about him. Our children’s children

Shall see this, and bless heaven.

KING HENRY

Thou speakest wonders.

CRAMMER

She shall be, to the happiness of England,

An aged princess. Many days shall see her,

And yet no day without a deed to crown it.

Would I had known no more. But she must die—

She must, the saints must have her—yet a virgin,

A most unspotted lily shall she pass

To th’ ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

KING HENRY

O lord Archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man. Never before

This happy child did I get anything.

This oracle of comfort has so pleased me

That when I am in heaven I shall desire

To see what this child does, and praise my maker.

I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,

And your good brethren, I am much beholden.

I have received much honour by your presence,

And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords.

Ye must all see the Queen, and she must thank ye.

She will be sick else. This day, no man think

He’s business at his house, for all shall stay—

This little one shall make it holiday. ⌈Flourish.⌉ Exeunt

Epilogue

Enter Epilogue

EPILOGUE

‘Tis ten to one this play can never please

All that are here. Some come to take their ease,

And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,

We’ve frighted with our trumpets; so, ’tis clear,

They’ll say ’tis naught. Others to hear the city

Abused extremely, and to cry ‘That’s witty!’—

Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,

All the expected good we’re like to hear

For this play at this time is only in

The merciful construction of good women,

For such a one we showed ’em. If they smile,

And say “Twill do’, I know within a while

All the best men are ours—for ’tis ill hap

If they hold when their ladies bid ’em clap.

Exit