My mind's not on 't; you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;

Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. 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 greatest humbleness, and desired your

highness

Most heartily to pray for her.

K. Hen.

What say'st thou ? ha!

To pray for her? what, is she crying out?

Lov. So said her woman; and that her sufferance

made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen.

Alas, good lady!

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of

Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen.

'Tis midnight, Charles:

Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company

Would not be friendly to.

Suf.

I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will

Remember in my prayers.

K. Hen.

Charles, good night.

[Exit Suffolk.

Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY.

Well, sir, what follows?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,

Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake :

I am happily come hither.

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.

[aside.

Cran. I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus?

'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.

K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.

Come, you and I must walk a turn together;

I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your

hand.

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,

Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,

Have moved us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till farther trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower. You, a brother of
us,1

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness

Would come against you.

Cran.

I humbly thank your highness;

And am right glad to catch this good occasion

Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder; for, I know,

There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.

K. Hen.

Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted

In us, thy friend: give me thy hand; stand up:
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy dame,

What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that

1 One of our council.