 | Mary Tudor |  |
303
Scene IV.
A Street in Oxford.Enter Winchester, Oxford, and Pembroke.
PEMBROKE.
The Princess fails us: let us try the People,
Or he is lost.
WINCHESTER.
Consistency, forsooth!
Stand up to death!—all for a name—a shadow!
A martyr truly! Better live a saint!
To die untimely shall not profit him,
Nor his disciples. Let him live; that so
Hereafter he may preach.
OXFORD.
What matters it—
Or soon or late? Our mission here is closed,
Duty fulfilled: and when this world fades from us
The better dawns. Scandal too much hath fallen
Upon the Church by his backsliding once.
Be firm, O Cranmer, to the end!
WINCHESTER.
I grant you,
304
PEMBROKE.
Calm courses! Have I challenged on his path
That bear, Northumberland, to quail at curs?
WINCHESTER.
You knew your man, and weighed the times: that bear
Fell in your pit—sorely we smote him in it—
Marry I spared not!
OXFORD.
I had no part therein.
I scorned the vermin, and withheld from Court.
But to the matter. Count not on the people:
'Tis manifest they side with the old Church.
To strike with half a weapon—charge unbacked—
Were but scant wisdom.
WINCHESTER.
We must bide our time.
PEMBROKE.
Farewell, my lords!—So be it!—Sink, good sword
In Isis fathoms five—I need you not!
[Exit, flinging away his sword.
WINCHESTER.
We have chafed our noble friend a whit too sharply.
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Give the hot horse the rein—he'll stop when breathless.
But what avails complaint. 'Tis time we part.
WINCHESTER.
Oxford, farewell! Heaven bless thy noble heart.
[Exeunt severally.
| Mary Tudor | |