University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

Gallery in Lambeth Palace.
Queen, Pole, Gardiner, Cranmer, Ridley, Latymer.
GARDINER.
We but await your Grace's word.

QUEEN
[after a pause.]
The order
Of your procedure shall be grave; the manner
Stringent. I shall observe you, though in pain.
Should my mind wander, as 'tis apt to wander,
Recall attention without ceremony.

GARDINER.
This is no legal process; but a test
How far these obdurate men by frank confession
May clear their great offence, and spare the fagot.
My lord of Canterbury we cite not
Till due authority from Rome shall issue.
Yet let me pray him seize this precious moment
For penitence. You, Latymer and Ridley,
Speak: have you ought to urge?

LATYMER.
I am too old
For controversy. I come here to die.

GARDINER.
With fagot at your beard this is vain glory.
Your learning, Sir, is lost. Well—turn in time;
And trust her Grace's mercy.

LATYMER.
Hope not that.
My prayer hath daily been—may the Queen turn!

GARDINER.
Oh obdurate! Hear this!

QUEEN.
Proceed with the others.

GARDINER.
What says the doctor Ridley? Thou art a man
Whose subtile wit would illustrate an Arius.

RIDLEY.
Say on. We change not. From your coming sentence
To God we make appeal. Our names, we trust,
Though not of your communion, shall be found
Writ in His book of life.

LATYMER.
I thank my God
Most heartily, that He hath thus preserved me
To glorify him by this kind of death.

GARDINER.
You see, my liege, what manner of men these be:—
Unmannerly, audacious. What need we more?

CARDINAL.
Let the Archbishop speak. It is his right.

GARDINER.
Speak, Thomas Cranmer.

CRANMER.
First my lords, I pray you,
To intercede for me, touching my sin
Of treason, which with penitence I own.
I am prepared to wrestle, as becomes
My sacred calling in my soul's defence.
Give me but patient hearing.

GARDINER.
That is granted.

CRANMER.
My lords, I doubt the law of your procedure.

GARDINER.
We act upon commission; which for us
Is full acquittance. Hereticks despatched,
Their friends may sue the law, if so it pleaseth.

QUEEN.
You go too fast, my lord. I halt behind
Your expedite advance. Let law be law.
The secular arm is nerveless till conviction
At competent tribunals. See to this.

RIDLEY.
You keep us prisoners, deprived of service,
Or free communication with our fellows—

GARDINER.
Ay? who be they?

RIDLEY.
Our solitude, 'tis true,
Is little cheered by offices of kindness
From brother scholars: but the Poor, unlettered,
Have shown us sympathy.

LATYMER.
My soul, my soul
Finds in the prison house a holy cell
For meditation. 'Tis like a pitcher filled
To the brim, with scripture; which so mightily
Endows the spirit, that all infirmities
Of flesh fall from me. I am strong through faith.

CARDINAL.
My lord of Canterbury, when you dispute,
Observe, the parliament prohibits use
Of all suspect translations of the Bible;
And your own book upon the Sacraments.
You must rely on writings orthodox.
The Fathers such; and Scripture, as the Church
Expounds.

CRANMER.
In chains I fight not. I deny
The truth of your expounding.

GARDINER.
Hear, my liege!
He doth deny the truth!

CARDINAL.
Wrest not his words.
What would you say, Archbishop?

CRANMER.
I entreat
License to utter freely all my thought.
'Tis true her Grace mislikes me, and with cause;—
That Reformation is her royal province;—
Yet speak I must in duty to my God.

LATYMER.
Why speak you not more roundly? they have scourged
Our brethren with their rods; burned them with fagots;
Famished and drowned; ripped up their buried bodies,
And flung to dogs. 'Tis true—these are not lies.—
Eyes have beheld—your consciences bear witness!
The blood of Abel crieth unto God—
And at your hands shall be required! Great Queen,
I supplicate you, by a mother's love,
Have pity on your children, spare your people!

QUEEN.
Fearful old man! why thus adjur'st thou me?

CRANMER.
Be temperate, Latymer: this will not serve.

LATYMER.
Not serve—will it avenge?

QUEEN.
Intemperate man!
I press not thee more than I would endure.
If right, you are a martyr, worthy heaven:
If wrong, deserve no pity.

CARDINAL.
Had ye been
Endowed with judgment equal to your courage,
Ye had not missed the mark of genuine greatness.
That little which ye lack bewrays your life.

RIDLEY.
We enter life as on a battle field
Where principle must be asserted bravely.
This shakes us not—that God with us should deal
As with his chosen Captains in old time:
Nor yet repine we that our mortal state
Partakes the customed penalties of man.

GARDINER.
You waste the time.

LATYMER.
He speaks as the time needs!—
The Truth of God ye hide within a cave,
Sealed with a seal, and guarded by a guard:
But that which died shall live; and, shining wide
On all the white-robed synod of the Saints,
Keep, in the face of Christendom restored,
Its joyful Passover! Lords, we defy you!
What should we shrink from who look back on Him—
Our Master—whose great sacrifice began
When time was as an infant, pure and tearful,
And still bleeds on through every martyr's wound?
He, massacred with Abel; tempest-tost
With Noah; bound upon the pile with Isaak;
A miracle of patience as in Job;
Betrayed with Joseph; and like Daniel cast
Amid the lions—No! we will not shrink!

GARDINER.
I' faith you speak bold words. Can you do boldly?

RIDLEY.
There have been men of fearless mind, who dared
All, for their Country. One—the Roman—leaped
Alive into his grave, earth's yawning chasm.
Shall then a Christian falter in his faith?—
His faith in Him who laid heaven's crown aside
To win immortal palms for those He loved?

GARDINER.
Palms—palms? for such as you? Presumptuous fools!
Who scarce can boast the name of Church.

RIDLEY.
Our Church
Is as the grape of Ephraim; better worth
Than Abiezer's vintage. In her pale
All wholesome comfort, honest aids are centered.
The pleasures she affords are of the soul,
Inward, yet shared by all; perdurable.
She spreads no peacock feathers in the sun
To lure the eye; nor scatters on the air
Sweet odours, to entrap the sense. All blessing
She knows included in the Word of God!
What are the joys of sense to joys like hers,
That grow for ever?—

CARDINAL.
This is very grievous!
Madam, so please you, these be heated men,
Who may not be convinced, and will not bend.
With Cranmer I would crave some separate speech.
[Exeunt Ridley and Latymer attended.
Cranmer, my friend, you much mistake, believe me,
The interest of the Church. The Church is one,
And indivisible; though you have split
Her walls, seceding. You should have trained with care,
Not rent, the wild shoots of the immortal tree.
If sand be mixed with gold, men purge the dross,
But change not gold for lead. Work with us, Cranmer!
Say you that things need mending? You but say
What pious men within our pale say also,
Albeit that task they trust not to base hands.
In her own breast the Church retains the cure
Of ills that vex her. Men in conference met,
Learned and saintly monitors, take counsel;
Whereby all points of difference are settled.
Ay, men must work in concert, and the few
Yield to the many, or we'll see no end.

CRANMER.
Your words show more the statesman than the churchman.
'Tis not the voice of Rome.

CARDINAL.
In that you err.
The amplitude of Rome hath space reserved
Where Freedom may indulge her dreams. How else
Our Carmelites, Dominicans, Franciscans?
We wink; they kneel: enough—the Church stands firm.
—I can no more. We must not lose this man.
Gardiner, strive thou.

GARDINER.
Commit to me his keeping,
And I will strive—

CRANMER.
To thee? Have mercy, Christ!
My vineyard is too near the house of Ahab.

GARDINER
[aside].
Ha! Philip's word!

CRANMER.
O Queen! my heart is full.
And I could prophesy, but I refrain.
The bitter cup is brimming: it is enough—
We both must drain our portion. Are you happy?
See what has come of my prosperity!
Prosperity? alas! what part hast thou
In real joys—cankered prosperity?
—The conquest of our passions is true joy.
Content is joy: and there's a spiritual joy
In converse with our God; capacity
For learning and high art; and these used rightly
In aid of fellow men, and for God's glory!
But there's a joy beyond; transcendent, holy;
The joy when saints take up their Master's cross—
The joy of pain that testifies of faith—
Shining abroad, significant of grace,
And coming glory! such as Peter found
Upon his cross—Stephen beneath the stones—
Paul in his cavern—Lawrence o'er the flames!
—I have wandered—pardon me!

CARDINAL.
We stayed to teach:
And have been taught. Thanks for your sermon, Cranmer!
The Queen grows pale: be quick in your retiring.
Lean on my arm, my liege. Cranmer, adieu!
We meet again. Would that thy faith were true!

[Exeunt severally.