Part 25 (1/2)

POLE. 'After his kind it costs him nothing,' there's An old world English adage to the point.

These are but natural graces, my good Bishop, Which in the Catholic garden are as flowers, But on the heretic dunghill only weeds.

HOWARD. Such weeds make dunghills gracious.

MARY. Enough, my Lords.

It is G.o.d's will, the Holy Father's will, And Philip's will, and mine, that he should burn.

He is p.r.o.nounced anathema.

HOWARD. Farewell, Madam, G.o.d grant you ampler mercy at your call Than you have shown to Cranmer.

[_Exeunt_ LORDS.

POLE. After this, Your Grace will hardly care to overlook This same pet.i.tion of the foreign exiles For Cranmer's life.

MARY. Make out the writ to-night.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.--OXFORD. CRANMER IN PRISON.

CRANMER. Last night, I dream'd the f.a.ggots were alight, And that myself was fasten'd to the stake, I And found it all a visionary flame, Cool as the light in old decaying wood; And then King Harry look'd from out a cloud, And bad me have good courage; and I heard An angel cry 'There is more joy in Heaven,'-- And after that, the trumpet of the dead.

[_Trumpets without_.

Why, there are trumpets blowing now: what is it?

_Enter_ FATHER COLE.

COLE. Cranmer, I come to question you again; Have you remain'd in the true Catholic faith I left you in?

CRANMER. In the true Catholic faith, By Heaven's grace, I am more and more confirm'd.

Why are the trumpets blowing, Father Cole?

COLE. Cranmer, it is decided by the Council That you to-day should read your recantation Before the people in St. Mary's Church.

And there be many heretics in the town, Who loathe you for your late return to Rome, And might a.s.sail you pa.s.sing through the street, And tear you piecemeal: so you have a guard.

CRANMER. Or seek to rescue me. I thank the Council.

COLE. Do you lack any money?

CRANMER. Nay, why should I?

The prison fare is good enough for me.

COLE. Ay, but to give the poor.

CRANMER. Hand it me, then!

I thank you.

COLE. For a little s.p.a.ce, farewell; Until I see you in St. Mary's Church.

[_Exit_ COLE.

CRANMER. It is against all precedent to burn One who recants; they mean to pardon me.

To give the poor--they give the poor who die.