Henry VIII

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Original text
Act II, Scene I
Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1.
Whether away so fast?

2.
O, God saue ye:
Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

1.
Ile saue you
That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony
Of bringing backe the Prisoner.

2.
Were you there?

1.
Yes indeed was I.

2.
Pray speake what ha's happen'd.

1.
You may guesse quickly what.

2.
Is he found guilty?

1.
Yes truely is he, / And condemn'd vpon't.

2.
I am sorry fort.

1.
So are a number more.

2.
But pray how past it?

1.
Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged
Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law.
The Kings Atturney on the contrary,
Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions
Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd
To him brought viua voce to his face;
At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor
Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car,
Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke,
Hopkins, that made this mischiefe.

2.
That was hee
That fed him with his Prophecies.

1.
The same,
All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine
Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not;
And so his Peeres vpon this euidence,
Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all
Was either pittied in him, or forgotten.

2.
After all this, how did he beare himselfe?

1.
When he was brought agen to th'Bar, to heare
His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd
With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly,
And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly,
In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience.

2.
I doe not thinke he feares death.

1.
Sure he does not,
He neuer was so womanish, the cause
He may a little grieue at.

2.
Certainly,
The Cardinall is the end of this.

1.
Tis likely,
By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure;
Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd
Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too,
Least he should helpe his Father.

2.
That tricke of State
Was a deepe enuious one,

1.
At his returne,
No doubt he will requite it; this is noted
(And generally) who euer the King fauours,
The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment,
And farre enough from Court too.

2.
All the Commons
Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience
Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much
They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham,
The Mirror of all courtesie.

1.
Stay there Sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues
before him, the Axe with the edge towards him,
Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas
Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and
common people, &c.

2.
Let's stand close and behold him.

Buck.
All good people,
You that thus farre haue come to pitty me;
Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me.
I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement,
And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes,
And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me,
Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull.
The Law I beare no mallice for my death,
T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice:
But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians:
(Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em;
Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe;
Nor build their euils on the graues of great men;
For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne're hope,
Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies
More then I dare make faults. / You few that lou'd me,
And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham,
His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue
Is only bitter to him, only dying:
Goe with me like good Angels to my end,
And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me,
Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice,
And lift my Soule to Heauen. / Lead on a Gods name.

Louell.
I doe beseech your Grace, for charity
If euer any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly.

Buck.
Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you
As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all.
There cannot be those numberlesse offences
Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: / No blacke Enuy
shall make my Graue. / Commend mee to his Grace:
And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him,
You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers
Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue
Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares;
Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be;
And when old Time shall lead him to his end,
Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument.

Lou.
To th'water side I must conduct your Grace;
Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who vndertakes you to your end.

Vaux.
Prepare there,
The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture as suites
The Greatnesse of his Person.

Buck.
Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me.
When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable,
And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun;
Yet I am richer then my base Accusers,
That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it;
And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't.
My noble Father Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister,
Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid,
And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him.
Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying
My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince
Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines
Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne,
Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all
That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken
For euer from the World. I had my Tryall,
And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me
A little happier then my wretched Father:
Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both
Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most:
A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice.
Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me,
This from a dying man receiue as certaine:
Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels,
Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends,
And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, neuer found againe
But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people
Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre
Of my long weary life is come vpon me:
Farewell;
and when you would say somthing that is sad,
Speake how I fell. / I haue done; and God forgiue me.
Exeunt Duke and Traine.

1.
O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals
I feare, too many curses on their heads
That were the Authors.

2.
If the Duke be guiltlesse,
'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling
Of an ensuing euill, if it fall,
Greater then this.

1.
Good Angels keepe it from vs:
What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?

2.
This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceale it.

1.
Let me haue it:
I doe not talke much.

2.
I am confident;
You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare
A buzzing of a Separation
Betweene the King and Katherine?

1.
Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight
To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

2.
But that slander Sir,
Is found a truth now: for it growes agen
Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine
The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall,
Or some about him neere, haue out of malice
To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple
That will vndoe her: To confirme this too,
Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately,
As all thinke for this busines.

1.
Tis the Cardinall;
And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour,
For not bestowing on him at his asking,
The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2.
I thinke / You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell,
That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall
Will haue his will, and she must fall.

1.
'Tis wofull.
Wee are too open heere to argue this:
Let's thinke in priuate more.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene II
Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this letter.
My Lord, the Horses your Lordship
sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden,
and furnish'd. They were young and handsome, and of the
best breed in the North. When they were ready to set out for
London, a man of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and
maine power tooke 'em from me, with this reason: his
maister would bee seru'd before a Subiect, if not before the
King, which stop'd our mouthes Sir.
I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them;
hee will haue all I thinke.
Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke
and Suffolke.

Norf.
Well met my Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham.
Good day to both your Graces.

Suff.
How is the King imployd?

Cham.
I left him priuate,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Norf.
What's the cause?

Cham.
It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife
Ha's crept too neere his Conscience.

Suff.
No, his Conscience
Ha's crept too neere another Ladie.

Norf.
Tis so;
This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall,
That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune,
Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day.

Suff.
Pray God he doe, / Hee'l neuer know himselfe else.

Norf.
How holily he workes in all his businesse,
And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League
Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew)
He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience,
Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage.
And out of all these, to restore the King,
He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her
That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares
About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre;
Of her that loues him with that excellence,
That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her,
That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls
Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?

Cham.
Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true
These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em,
And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare
Looke into these affaires, see this maine end,
The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open
The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon
This bold bad man.

Suff.
And free vs from his slauery.

Norf.
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliuerance;
Or this imperious man will worke vs all
From Princes into Pages: all mens honours
Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.

Suff.
For me, my Lords,
I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede:
As I am made without him, so Ile stand,
If the King please: his Curses and his blessings
Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in.
I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him
To him that made him proud; the Pope.

Norf.
Let's in;
And with some other busines, put the King
From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him:
My Lord, youle beare vs company?

Cham.
Excuse me,
The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides
You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him:
Health to your Lordships.

Norfolke.
Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and
the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading pensiuely.

Suff.
How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted.

Kin.
Who's there? Ha?

Norff.
Pray God he be not angry.

Kin.
Who's there I say? How dare you thrust yourselues
Into my priuate Meditations?
Who am I? Ha?

Norff.
A gracious King, that pardons all offences
Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way,
Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come
To know your Royall pleasure.

Kin.
Ye are too bold:
Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:
Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?
Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.
Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded Conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome
Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,
Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,
I be not found a Talker.

Wol.
Sir, you cannot;
I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre
Of priuate conference.

Kin.
We are busie; goe.

Norff.
This Priest ha's no pride in him?

Suff.
Not to speake of:
I would not be so sicke though for his place:
But this cannot continue.

Norff.

If it doe,
Ile venture one; haue at him.

Suff.

I another.
Exeunt Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol.
Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome
Aboue all Princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome:
Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you?
The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her,
Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse,
The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes,
(I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes)
Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement)
Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent
One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius,
Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse.

Kin.
And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome,
And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues,
They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for.

Cam.
Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues,
You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand
I tender my Commission; by whose vertue,
The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord
Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant,
In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse.

Kin.
Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol.
I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her
So deare in heart, not to deny her that
A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law;
Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her.

Kin.
I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour
To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall,
Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary.
I find him a fit fellow.
Enter Gardiner.

Wol.
Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;
You are the Kings now.

Gard.
But to be commanded
For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me.

Kin.
Come hither Gardiner.
Walkes and whispers.

Camp.
My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace
In this mans place before him?

Wol.
Yes, he was.

Camp.
Was he not held a learned man?

Wol.
Yes surely.

Camp.
Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall.

Wol.
How? of me?

Camp
They will not sticke to say, you enuide him;
And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous)
Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him,
That he ran mad, and dide.

Wol.
Heau'ns peace be with him:
That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole;
For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow,
If I command him followes my appointment,
I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother,
We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

Kin.
Deliuer this with modesty to th'Queene.
Exit Gardiner.
The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of
For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers:
There ye shall meete about this waighty busines.
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord,
Would it not grieue an able man to leaue
So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience;
O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene III


An.
Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.
His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she
So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer
Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after
So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,
Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which
To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then
'Tis sweet at first t'acquire. After this Processe.
To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty
Would moue a Monster.

Old La.
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.

An.
Oh Gods will, much better
She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,
Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soule and bodies seuering.

Old L.
Alas poore Lady,
Shee's a stranger now againe.

An.
So much the more
Must pitty drop vpon her; verily
I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,
And range with humble liuers in Content,
Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe,
And weare a golden sorrow.

Old L.
Our content
Is our best hauing.

Anne.
By my troth, and Maidenhead,
I would not be a Queene.

Old. L.
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you
For all this spice of your Hipocrisie:
You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,
Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet
Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;
Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts
(Sauing your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne.
Nay, good troth.

Old L.
Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?

Anne.
No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen.

Old. L.
Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me
Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs
To beare that load of Title?

An.
No in truth.

Old. L.
Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
I would not be a young Count in your way,
For more then blushing comes to: If your backe
Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake
Euer to get a Boy.

An.
How you doe talke;
I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,
For all the world.

Old. L.
In faith, for little England
You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe
Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd
No more to th'Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?
Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L. Cham.
Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know
The secret of your conference?

An.
My good Lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying.

Cham.
It was a gentle businesse, and becomming
The action of good women, there is hope
All will be well.

An.
Now I pray God, Amen.

Cham.
You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings
Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady
Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes
Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty
Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and
Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing,
Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title,
A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support,
Out of his Grace, he addes.

An.
I doe not know
What kinde of my obedience, I should tender;
More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers
Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes
More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes
Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship,
Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience,
As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse;
Whose health and Royalty I pray for.

Cham.
Lady;
I shall not faile t'approue the faire conceit
The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,
Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,
That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet
But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,
To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King,
And say I spoke with you.

An.
My honour'd Lord.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

Old. L.
Why this it is: See, see,
I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court
(Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early, and too late
For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)
A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon
This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,
Before you open it.

An.
This is strange to me.

Old L.
How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:
There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)
That would not be a Queene, that would she not
For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?

An.
Come you are pleasant.

Old. L.
With your Theame, I could
O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?
A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?
No other obligation? by my Life,
That promises mo thousands: Honours traine
Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time
I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,
Are you not stronger then you were?

An.
Good Lady,
Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,
And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being
If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me
To thinke what followes.
The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull
In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer,
What heere y'haue heard to her.

Old L.
What doe you thinke me ---
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene IV
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers,
with short siluer wands; next them two Scribes in
the habite of Doctors; after them, the Bishop of
Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne,
Ely, Rochester, and S. Asaph: Next them, with
some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the
Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then
two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then
a Gentleman Vsher bare-headed, accompanyed with a
Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two
Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After
them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen,
with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder
the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as
Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the
King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the
Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the
Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the
Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.

Car.
Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.

King.
What's the need?
It hath already publiquely bene read,
And on all sides th'Authority allow'd,
You may then spare that time.

Car.
Bee't so, proceed.

Scri.
Say, Henry K. of England, come into the
Court.

Crier.
Henry King of England, &c.

King.
Heere.

Scribe.
Say, Katherine Queene of England, / Come into the
Court.

Crier.
Katherine Queene of England, &c.
The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire,
goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at
his Feete. Then speakes.
Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice,
And to bestow your pitty on me; for
I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger,
Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere
No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir:
In what haue I offended you? What cause
Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceede to put me off,
And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse,
I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife,
At all times to your will conformable:
Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike,
Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre
I euer contradicted your Desire?
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends
Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew
He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,
That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I
Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde,
That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience,
Vpward of twenty yeares, and haue bene blest
With many Children by you. If in the course
And processe of this time, you can report,
And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught;
My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie
Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name
Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt
Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp
To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir,
The King your Father, was reputed for
A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent
And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand
My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one
The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many
A yeare before. It is not to be question'd,
That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them
Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse,
Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may
Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile
I will implore. If not, i'th'name of God
Your pleasure be fulfill'd.

Wol.
You haue heere Lady,
(And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men
Of singular Integrity, and Learning;
Yea, the elect o'th'Land, who are assembled
To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse,
That longer you desire the Court, as well
For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
What is vnsetled in the King.

Camp.
His Grace
Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam,
It's fit this Royall Session do proceed,
And that (without delay) their Arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.

Qu.
Lord Cardinall,
to you I speake.

Wol.
Your pleasure, Madam.

Qu.
Sir,
I am about to weepe; but thinking that
We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine
The daughter of a King, my drops of teares,
Ile turne to sparkes of fire.

Wol.
Be patient yet.

Qu.
I will, when you are humble; Nay before,
Or God will punish me. I do beleeue
(Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that
You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge,
You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you
Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;
(Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe,
I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule
Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more
I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not
At all a Friend to truth.

Wol.
I do professe
You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet
Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th'effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome,
Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong
I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice
For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,
Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted
By a Commission from the Consistorie,
Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me,
That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it,
The King is present: If it be knowne to him,
That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound,
And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much
As you haue done my Truth. If he know
That I am free of your Report, he knowes
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to
Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before
His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech
You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking,
And to say so no more.

Queen.
My Lord, My Lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weake
T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd
You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming,
With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart
Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride.
You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors,
Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted
Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
(Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please
Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you,
You tender more your persons Honor, then
Your high profession Spirituall. That agen
I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere
Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,
To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse,
And to be iudg'd by him.
She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp.
The Queene is obstinate,
Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well.
Shee's going away.

Kin.
Call her againe.

Crier.
Katherine. Q of England, come into the Court.

Gent.Vsh.
Madam, you are cald backe.

Que.
What need you note it? pray you keep your way,
When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,
They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on;
I will not tarry: no, nor euer more
Vpon this businesse my appearance make,
In any of their Courts.
Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin.
Goe thy wayes Kate,
That man i'th'world, who shall report he ha's
A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted,
For speaking false in that; thou art alone
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse,
Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out)
The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne;
And like her true Nobility, she ha's
Carried her selfe towards me.

Wol.
Most gracious Sir,
In humblest manner I require your Highnes,
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,
There must I be vnloos'd, although not there
At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I
Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't: or euer
Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such
A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might
Be to the preiudice of her present State,
Or touch of her good Person?

Kin.
My Lord Cardinall,
I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour,
I free you from't: You are not to be taught
That you haue many enemies, that know not
Why they are so; but like to Village Curres,
Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these
The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd:
But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer
Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd
It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft
The passages made toward it; on my Honour,
I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point;
And thus farre cleare him. / Now, what mou'd me too't,
I will be bold with time and your attention:
Then marke th'inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't:
My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes,
Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd
By th'Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador,
Who had beene hither sent on the debating
And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and
Our Daughter Mary: I'th'Progresse of this busines,
Ere a determinate resolution, hee
(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite,
Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise,
Whether our Daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager,
Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke
The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me;
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way,
That many maz'd considerings, did throng
And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought
I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had
Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should
Doe no more Offices of life too't; then
The Graue does to th'dead: For her Male Issue,
Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after
This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought,
This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome
(Well worthy the best Heyre o'th'World) should not
Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that
I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in
By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me
Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present heere together: that's to say,
I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which
I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well,
By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land,
And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate,
With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember
How vnder my oppression I did reeke
When I first mou'd you.

B. Lin.
Very well my Liedge.

Kin.
I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say
How farre you satisfide me.

Lin.
So please your Highnes,
The question did at first so stagger me,
Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,
And consequence of dread, that I committed
The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt,
And did entreate your Highnes to this course,
Which you are running heere.

Kin.
I then mou'd you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue
To make this present Summons vnsolicited.
I left no Reuerend Person in this Court;
But by particular consent proceeded
Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on,
For no dislike i'th'world against the person
Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points
Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward:
Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life
And Kingly Dignity, we are contented
To weare our mortall State to come, with her,
(Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature
That's Parragon'd o'th'World

Camp.
So please your Highnes,
The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse,
That we adiourne this Court till further day;
Meane while, must be an earnest motion
Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale
She intends vnto his Holinesse.

Kin.
I may perceiue
These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre
This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome.
My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer,
Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know,
My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court;
I say, set on.
Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.
Modern text
Act II, Scene I
Enter two Gentlemen, at several doors

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Whither away so fast?

SECOND GENTLEMAN
O, God save ye!
Even to the Hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Were you there?

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, indeed was I.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Pray speak what has happened.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
You may guess quickly what.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Is he found guilty?

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon't.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
I am sorry for't.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
So are a number more.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
But, pray, how passed it?

FIRST GENTLEMAN
I'll tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the bar, where to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The King's attorney, on the contrary,
Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions,
Of divers witnesses, which the Duke desired
To have brought viva voce to his face;
At which appeared against him his surveyor,
Sir Gilbert Perk his chancellor, and John Car,
Confessor to him, with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
That was he
That fed him with his prophecies.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
The same.
All these accused him strongly, which he fain
Would have flung from him; but indeed he could not;
And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life, but all
Was either pitied in him or forgotten.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
After all this, how did he bear himself?

FIRST GENTLEMAN
When he was brought again to th' bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirred
With such an agony he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty;
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest showed a most noble patience.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
I do not think he fears death.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Sure he does not;
He never was so womanish. The cause
He may a little grieve at.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Certainly
The Cardinal is the end of this.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis likely,
By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland, who removed,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
At his return
No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally: whoever the King favours,
The Cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep. This Duke as much
They love and dote on, call him bounteous Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy –

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruined man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his arraignment, tipstaves
before him, the axe with the edge towards him,
halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas
Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and
common people, etc.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
Let's stand close, and behold him.

BUCKINGHAM
All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day received a traitor's judgement,
And by that name must die. Yet, heaven bear witness,
And if I have a conscience let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death:
'T has done, upon the premises, but justice.
But those that sought it I could wish more Christians.
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em.
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men,
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the King have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me like good angels to my end,
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, a God's name!

LOVELL
I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

BUCKINGHAM
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven. I forgive all.
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envy
Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace,
And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him
You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers
Yet are the King's and, till my soul forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years;
Ever beloved and loving may his rule be;
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

LOVELL
To th' waterside I must conduct your grace,
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.

VAUX
Prepare there;
The Duke is coming. See the barge be ready,
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.

BUCKINGHAM
Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable
And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun.
Yet I am richer than my base accusers
That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it,
And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first raised head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distressed, was by that wretch betrayed,
And without trial fell. God's peace be with him!
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restored me to my honours, and out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And must needs say a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most –
A most unnatural and faithless service.
Heaven has an end in all. Yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels
Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell;
And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!
Exeunt Duke and Train

FIRST GENTLEMAN
O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads
That were the authors.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
If the Duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of woe; yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?

SECOND GENTLEMAN
This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Let me have it;
I do not talk much.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
I am confident;
You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the King and Katherine?

FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight
To stop the rumour and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now, for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain
The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal
Or some about him near have, out of malice
To the good Queen, possessed him with a scruple
That will undo her. To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,
As all think, for this business.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis the Cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the Emperor
For not bestowing on him at his asking
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.

SECOND GENTLEMAN
I think you have hit the mark; but is't not cruel
That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.

FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene II
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading this letter

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
My lord, the horses your lordship
sent for, with all the care I had I saw well chosen, ridden,
and furnished. They were young and handsome, and of the
best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for
London, a man of my lord Cardinal's, by commission and
main power, took 'em from me, with this reason: his
master would be served before a subject, if not before the
King; which stopped our mouths, sir.
I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them.
He will have all, I think.
Enter to the Lord Chamberlain the Dukes of Norfolk
and Suffolk

NORFOLK
Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
Good day to both your graces.

SUFFOLK
How is the King employed?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

NORFOLK
What's the cause?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.

SUFFOLK
(aside)
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.

NORFOLK
'Tis so;
This is the Cardinal's doing; the King-Cardinal,
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he list. The King will know him one day.

SUFFOLK
Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else.

NORFOLK
How holily he works in all his business,
And with what zeal! For, now he has cracked the league
Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew,
He dives into the King's soul and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs – and all these for his marriage.
And out of all these to restore the King,
He counsels a divorce, a loss of her
That like a jewel has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the King – and is not this course pious?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
These news are everywhere, every tongue speaks 'em,
And every true heart weeps for't. All that dare
Look into these affairs see this main end,
The French King's sister. Heaven will one day open
The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

SUFFOLK
And free us from his slavery.

NORFOLK
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance,
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages. All men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned
Into what pitch he please.

SUFFOLK
For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him – there's my creed.
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the King please. His curses and his blessings
Touch me alike; they're breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud – the Pope.

NORFOLK
Let's in,
And with some other business put the King
From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.
My lord, you'll bear us company?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
Excuse me,
The king has sent me otherwhere. Besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
Health to your lordships!

NORFOLK
Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
Exit Lord Chamberlain
The King draws the curtain and sits reading pensively

SUFFOLK
How sad he looks; sure he is much afflicted.

KING HENRY
Who's there, ha?

NORFOLK
Pray God he be not angry.

KING HENRY
Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I, ha?

NORFOLK
A gracious king that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate, in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.

KING HENRY
Ye are too bold.
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business.
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a commission
Who's there? My good lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king. (to Campeius) You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it. (to Wolsey) My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

WOLSEY
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

KING HENRY
(to Norfolk and Suffolk)
We are busy; go.

NORFOLK
(aside to Suffolk)
This priest has no pride in him!

SUFFOLK
(aside to Norfolk)
Not to speak of!
I would not be so sick though for his place.
But this cannot continue.

NORFOLK
(aside to Suffolk)
If it do,
I'll venture one have-at-him.

SUFFOLK
(aside to Norfolk)
I another.
Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk

WOLSEY
Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks –
I mean the learned ones in Christian kingdoms –
Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judgement,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,
Whom once more I present unto your highness.

KING HENRY
And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves.
They have sent me such a man I would have wished for.

CAMPEIUS
Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble. To your highness' hand
I tender my commission, by whose virtue,
The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are joined with me their servant
In the unpartial judging of this business.

KING HENRY
Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

WOLSEY
I know your majesty has always loved her
So dear in heart not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law –
Scholars allowed freely to argue for her.

KING HENRY
Ay, and the best she shall have, and my favour
To him that does best, God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
I find him a fit fellow.
Exit Wolsey
Enter Wolsey, with Gardiner

WOLSEY
(aside to Gardiner)
Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you.
You are the King's now.

GARDINER
(aside to Wolsey)
But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.

KING HENRY
Come hither, Gardiner.
Walks and whispers

CAMPEIUS
My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
In this man's place before him?

WOLSEY
Yes, he was.

CAMPEIUS
Was he not held a learned man?

WOLSEY
Yes, surely.

CAMPEIUS
Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
Even of yourself, lord Cardinal.

WOLSEY
How? Of me?

CAMPEIUS
They will not stick to say you envied him,
And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved him
That he ran mad and died.

WOLSEY
Heaven's peace be with him!
That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
For he would needs be virtuous. That good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be griped by meaner persons.

KING HENRY
Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen.
Exit Gardiner
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? But conscience, conscience!
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Anne Bullen and an Old Lady

ANNE
Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches:
His highness having lived so long with her, and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her – by my life,
She never knew harm-doing – O, now, after
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
To leave a thousandfold more bitter than
'Tis sweet at first t' acquire – after this process,
To give her the avaunt, it is a pity
Would move a monster.

OLD LADY
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.

ANNE
O, God's will! Much better
She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.

OLD LADY
Alas, poor lady!
She's a stranger now again.

ANNE
So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief
And wear a golden sorrow.

OLD LADY
Our content
Is our best having.

ANNE
By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.

OLD LADY
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You that have so fair parts of woman on you
Have too a woman's heart, which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
Of your soft cheverel conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

ANNE
Nay, good troth.

OLD LADY
Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen?

ANNE
No, not for all the riches under heaven.

OLD LADY
'Tis strange: a threepence bowed would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs
To bear that load of title?

ANNE
No, in truth.

OLD LADY
Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little;
I would not be a young count in your way
For more than blushing comes to. If your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

ANNE
How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

OLD LADY
In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing. I myself
Would for Caernarvonshire, although there 'longed
No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter the Lord Chamberlain

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know
The secret of your conference?

ANNE
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking.
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women. There is hope
All will be well.

ANNE
Now I pray God, amen!

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pound a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

ANNE
I do not know
What kind of my obedience I should tender.
More than my all is nothing; nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness,
Whose health and royalty I pray for.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN
Lady,
I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit
The King hath of you. (aside) I have perused her well;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
That they have caught the King; and who knows yet
But from this lady may proceed a gem
To lighten all this isle? (to them) I'll to the King,
And say I spoke with you.

ANNE
My honoured lord.
Exit Lord Chamberlain

OLD LADY
Why, this it is: see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late
For any suit of pounds; and you – O fate! –
A very fresh fish here – fie, fie, fie upon
This compelled fortune! – have your mouth filled up
Before you open it.

ANNE
This is strange to me.

OLD LADY
How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no.
There was a lady once – 'tis an old story –
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt. Have you heard it?

ANNE
Come, you are pleasant.

OLD LADY
With your theme I could
O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
A thousand pounds a year for pure respect!
No other obligation! By my life,
That promises more thousands: honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
I know your back will bear a duchess. Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?

ANNE
Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me
To think what follows.
The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence. Pray do not deliver
What here you've heard to her.

OLD LADY
What do you think me?
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene IV
Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers,
with short silver wands; next them two Scribes, in
the habit of doctors; after them, the Archbishop of
Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln,
Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with
some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the
purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat; then
two Priests bearing each a silver cross; then Griffith,
a Gentleman Usher, bare-headed, accompanied with a
Sergeant-at-Arms bearing a silver mace; then two
Gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars; after
them, side by side, the two Cardinals; two noblemen
with the sword and mace. The King takes place under
the cloth of state. The two Cardinals sit under him as
judges. The Queen takes place some distance from the
King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the
court in manner of a consistory; below them, the
Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the
attendants stand in convenient order about the stage

WOLSEY
Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.

KING HENRY
What's the need?
It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides th' authority allowed.
You may then spare that time.

WOLSEY
Be't so, proceed.

SCRIBE
Say, ‘ Henry, King of England, come into the
court.’

CRIER
Henry, King of England, come into the court.

KING HENRY
Here.

SCRIBE
Say ‘ Katherine, Queen of England, come into the
court.’

CRIER
Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.
The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair,
goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at
his feet; then speaks

QUEEN KATHERINE
Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,
And to bestow your pity on me; for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions, having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? What cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off
And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable,
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry
As I saw it inclined. When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine
That had to him derived your anger did I
Continue in my liking, nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife in this obedience
Upward of twenty years, and have been blessed
With many children by you. If, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty
Against your sacred person, in God's name
Turn me away, and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The King your father was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatched wit and judgement. Ferdinand
My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one
The wisest prince that there had reigned, by many
A year before. It is not to be questioned
That they had gathered a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
Who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel
I will implore. If not, I'th' name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfilled.

WOLSEY
You have here, lady,
And of your choice, these reverend fathers, men
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect o'th' land, who are assembled
To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless
That longer you desire the court, as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettled in the King.

CAMPEIUS
His grace
Hath spoken well and justly. Therefore, madam,
It's fit this royal session do proceed,
And that without delay their arguments
Be now produced and heard.

QUEEN KATHERINE
Lord Cardinal,
To you I speak.

WOLSEY
Your pleasure, madam.

QUEEN KATHERINE
Sir,
I am about to weep; but, thinking that
We are a queen, or long have dreamed so, certain
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.

WOLSEY
Be patient yet.

QUEEN KATHERINE
I will, when you are humble; nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induced by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy, and make my challenge
You shall not be my judge; for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me –
Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
Refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
At all a friend to truth.

WOLSEY
I do profess
You speak not like yourself, who ever yet
Have stood to charity and displayed th' effects
Of disposition gentle and of wisdom
O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong:
I have no spleen against you, nor injustice
For you or any. How far I have proceeded,
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the consistory,
Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me
That I have blown this coal. I do deny it.
The King is present. If it be known to him
That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood – yea, as much
As you have done my truth. If he know
That I am free of your report, he knows
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies to cure me, and the cure is to
Remove these thoughts from you; the which before
His highness shall speak in, I do beseech
You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking
And to say so no more.

QUEEN KATHERINE
My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
T' oppose your cunning. You're meek and humble-mouthed;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility; but your heart
Is crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers, and your words,
Domestics to you, serve your will as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour than
Your high profession spiritual, that again
I do refuse you for my judge, and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the Pope,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
And to be judged by him.
She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart

CAMPEIUS
The Queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be tried by't; 'tis not well.
She's going away.

KING HENRY
Call her again.

CRIER
Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.

GRIFFITH
Madam, you are called back.

QUEEN KATHERINE
What need you note it? Pray you keep your way;
When you are called, return. Now the Lord help!
They vex me past my patience. Pray you, pass on.
I will not tarry; no, nor ever more
Upon this business my appearance make
In any of their courts.
Exeunt the Queen and her attendants

KING HENRY
Go thy ways, Kate.
That man i'th' world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted
For speaking false in that. Thou art alone –
If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out –
The queen of earthly queens. She's noble born,
And like her true nobility she has
Carried herself towards me.

WOLSEY
Most gracious sir,
In humblest manner I require your highness
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these ears – for where I am robbed and bound,
There must I be unloosed, although not there
At once and fully satisfied – whether ever I
Did broach this business to your highness, or
Laid any scruple in your way which might
Induce you to the question on't, or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spake one the least word that might
Be to the prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person?

KING HENRY
My lord Cardinal,
I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,
I free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies that know not
Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
Bark when their fellows do. By some of these
The Queen is put in anger. You're excused.
But will you be more justified? You ever
Have wished the sleeping of this business, never desired
It to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft,
The passages made toward it. On my honour,
I speak my good lord Cardinal to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't,
I will be bold with time and your attention.
Then mark th' inducement. Thus it came – give heed to't:
My conscience first received a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches uttered
By th' Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary. I'th' progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he –
I mean the Bishop – did require a respite,
Wherein he might the King his lord advertise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience, entered me,
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast; which forced such way
That many mazed considerings did throng
And pressed in with this caution. First, methought
I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had
Commanded nature that my lady's womb,
If it conceived a male child by me, should
Do no more offices of life to't than
The grave does to th' dead; for her male issue
Or died where they were made, or shortly after
This world had aired them. Hence I took a thought
This was a judgement on me, that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o'th' world, should not
Be gladded in't by me. Then follows that
I weighed the danger which my realms stood in
By this my issue's fail, and that gave to me
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present here together; that's to say,
I meant to rectify my conscience, which
I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,
By all the reverend fathers of the land
And doctors learned. First I began in private
With you, my lord of Lincoln. You remember
How under my oppression I did reek
When I first moved you.

LINCOLN
Very well, my liege.

KING HENRY
I have spoke long; be pleased yourself to say
How far you satisfied me.

LINCOLN
So please your highness,
The question did at first so stagger me –
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't
And consequence of dread – that I committed
The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt,
And did entreat your highness to this course
Which you are running here.

KING HENRY
I then moved you,
My lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
To make this present summons. Unsolicited
I left no reverend person in this court,
But by particular consent proceeded
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on,
For no dislike i'th' world against the person
Of the good Queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward.
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life
And kingly dignity, we are contented
To wear our mortal state to come with her,
Katherine our Queen, before the primest creature
That's paragoned o'th' world.

CAMPEIUS
So please your highness,
The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day.
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the Queen to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.

KING HENRY
(aside)
I may perceive
These Cardinals trifle with me. I abhor
This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
My learned and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Prithee return. With thy approach I know
My comfort comes along. (to them) Break up the court;
I say, set on.
Exeunt in manner as they entered
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