CRANMER

I am fearful: Wherefore frowns he thus? It's his Aspect of Terror. All's not well. It is my duty to attend your Highness pleasure. I humbly thank your Highness, And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most thoroughly to be winnowed, where my Chaff And Corn shall fly asunder. For I know There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, Then I my self, poor man. Most dread Liege, The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honesty: If they shall fail, I with mine Enemies Will triumph over my person, which I weigh not, Being of those Virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me. God, and your Majesty Protect mine innocence, or I fallen into The trap is laid for me. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman That was sent to me from the Council, prayed me To make great hast. All fast? What means this? Hoa? Who waits there? Sure you know me? Why? So. It's Buts. The Kings 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 Among Boys, Grooms, and Lackeys. But their pleasures Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience. 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-goe 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, Desacers of a public peace then 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 Lordship's, That in this case of Justice, my Accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely urge against me. 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, It's my undoing. Love and meekness, Lord Become a Churchman, better then Ambition: Win straying Souls with modesty again, Cast none away: That I shall clear my self, Lay all the weight you 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. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower my Lords? For me? Must I go Like a Traitor thither? Stay good my Lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there my Lords, By virtue of that Ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most Noble Judge, the King my Master. The greatest Monarch now alive may glory In such and honour: how may I deserve it, That am a poor and humble Subject to you? And let Heaven Witness how deer, I hold this Confirmation. And to your Royal Grace, & the good Queen, My Noble Partners, and my self thus pray All comfort, joy in this most gracious Lady, Heaven ever laid up to make Parents happy, May hourly fallen upon you. Elizabeth. Amen. Let me speak Sir, For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter, Let none think Flattery; for they'll find they 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 Then 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 h S 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 way 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 die, the Maiden Phoenix, Her Ashes new create another Heir, As great in admiration as her self. 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 Starlike 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; Where ever 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. She shall be to the happiness of England, And 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 the ground, and all the World shall mourn her.