Gardiner

Lovell
Came you from the King, my lord?
Gardiner
I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lovell
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I’ll take my leave.
Gardiner
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What’s the matter?
It seems you are in haste.
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Chancellor
My good lord Archbishop, I’m very sorry
To sit here at this present and behold
That chair stand empty. But we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable
Of our flesh—few are angels—out of which frailty
And want of wisdom you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little,
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Cranmer
Is there no other way of mercy
But I must needs to th’ Tower, my lords?
Gardiner
What other
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.
Let some o’ th’ guard be ready there.
 Enter the Guard.
Cranmer
For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?
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