Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a housewife;
I would by all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to with-
Into your private chamber, we shall give you The full cause of our coming.
Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord car
dinal, The willing'st sin I ever yet committed, May be absolv'd in English. Wol.
I am sorry, my integrity should breed (And service to his majesty and you,) So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accusation, To taint that honour every good tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You have too much, good lady: but to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the king and you; and to deliver, Like free and honest men, our just opinions, And comforts to your cause. Cam.
Most honour'd madam, My lord of York, -out of his noble nature, Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace; Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure Both of his truth and him (which was too far,)- Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.
My lords, I thank you both for your good wills, Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!) But how to make you suddenly an answer, In such a point of weight, so near mine honour (More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking Either for such men, or such business. For her sake that I have been (for 1 feel The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.
Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears;
Your hopes and friends are infinite.
In England, But little for my profit: Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel? Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure (Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,) And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, live not here; They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, In mine own country, lords.
I would, your grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. How, sir? Q. Kath. Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection;
There's nothing I have done yet, o'my conscience, Deserves a corner: 'Would, all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
My lords, I care not (so much I am happy
He's loving and most gracious; 'twill be much
Above a number,) if my actions
Both for your honour better, and your cause;
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you,
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd? I will not wish ye half my miseries,
I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye;
With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts
Take heed, for Heaven's sake take heed, lest at once Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Wo upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity;
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already; His love, too long ago: I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this.
Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long-(let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends,) -a wife, a true one? A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,) Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?! Almost forgot my prayers to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour, -a great patience.
Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, To give up willingly that noble title Your master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English earth,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady? I am the most unhappy woman living.-
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? [To her Women. Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me, Almost, no grave allow'd me:-Like the lily, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head, and perish.
Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places, The way of our profession, is against it; We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. For goodness' sake, consider what you do; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
Beware, you lose it not: For us, if you please To trust us in your business, we are ready To use our utmost studies in your service.
Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray,
If I have us'd myself unmannerly: You know, I am a woman, lacking wit To make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray, do my service to his majesty:
He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers, While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, Bestow your counsels on me she now begs, That little thought, when she set footing here, She should have bought her dignities so dear.
ment. Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke SCENE II.-Ante-chamber to the King's apartof Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints, And forces them with a constancy, the cardinal Cannot stand under them: If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustain more new disgraces, With these you bear already.
To meet the least occasion, that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, Which of the peers To be reveng'd on him. Suff. Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person, Out of himself? Cham.
My lords, you speak your pleasures:
What he deserves of you and me, I know; What we can do to him (though now the time Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to the king, never attempt Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft Over the king in his tongue.
I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour. Nor.
Believe it, this is true.
In the divorce, his contrary proceedings Are all untolded; wherein he appears, As I could wish mine enemy.
So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits, They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. I know, you have a gentle, noble temper, A soul as even as a calm Pray, think us
And came to the eye o'the king: wherein was read, Suff. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness To stay the judgment o'the divorce: For if It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive My king is tangled in affection to
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser- A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen.
Suff. May you be happy in your wish, my lord! Lord, for thy justice!
For, I profess, you have it. Sur.
Tracel the conjunction! Suff.
Now all my joy
My amen to't!
Suff. There's order given for her coronation: Marry, this is yet but young, 2 and may be left To some ears unrecounted.-But, my lords, She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
There be more wasps that buzz about his nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; Has left the cause o'the king unhandled; and Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, To second all his plot. I do assure you
The king cried, ha! at this.
Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!--- This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it; Then, out it goes. What though I know her vir-
Enter the King, reading a Schedule, and Lovell. The king, the king. K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumu- lated
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour Seems to flow from him! How, i'the name of thrift,
Now, God incense him, Does he rake this together?-Now, my lords;
And let him cry ha, louder! Nor.
When returns Cranmer?
Suff. He is return'd, in his opinions; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, His second marriage shall be publish'd, and Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd, queen; but princess dowager, And widow to prince Arthur.
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the king's business.
It may well be; There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning, Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; And, wot you, what I found He has; and we shall see him There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
Observe, observe, he's moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the
Crom. To his own hand, in his bed-chamber.
Wol. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper? Crom.
He did unseal them; and the first he view'd, He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance: You, he bade Attend him here this morning.
Wol. Leave me a while. [Exit Cromwell. It shall be to the duchess of Alençon,
The French king's sister: he shall marry her.
(1) Follow. (2) New. (3) Made memorable.
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time || What appetite you have.
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wol
sey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion,
For holy offices I have a time; a time To think upon the part of business, which I bear i'the state; and nature does require Her times of preservation, which, perforce, I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so; This paper has undone me:-'Tis the account Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
You have said well. Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together, For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, As I will lend you cause, my doing well
And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well: And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you: He said, he did; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Employ'd you where high profits might come home, But par'd my present havings, to bestow My-bounties upon you.
What should this mean? Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside.
The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true : And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us, or no. What say you?
Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man's endeavours:-my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.
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I do profess, That for your highness' good I ever labour'd More than mine own; that am, have, and will be. Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul: though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, As doth the rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.
'Tis nobly spoken: K. Hen. Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen hin. open't.-Read o'er this; [Giving him papers.
And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil Made me put this main secret in the packet, I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? I know, 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know No new device to beat this from his brains? A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune, Will bring me off again. What's this-To the Pope? The letter, as I live, with all the business
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Stay, Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry Authority so weighty.
Who dare cross them? Suff. Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it (I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy. How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin ! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt, You ask with such a violence, the king In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
(Mine, and your master,) with his own hand gave
This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The duke by law Found his deserts; how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness. If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you, You have as little honesty as honour; That I, in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the king, my ever royal master, Dare matel a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies.
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st feel
My sword i'the life-blood of thee else. My lords, Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.3
Is poison to thy stomach. Sur.
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets,
You writ to the pope, against the king: your good
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.- My lord of Norfolk, -as you are truly noble, As you respect the common good, the state Of our despis'd nobility, our issues, Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,- Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles Collected from his life :- I'll startle you Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this
But that I am bound in charity against it!
Either of king or council, when you went Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the great seal,
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude, Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, A league between his highness and Ferrara. Suff. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub-
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Suff. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is, Because all those things, you have done of late By your power legatines within this kingdom, Fall into the compass of a præmunire,6- That therefore such a writ be sued against you; To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king's protection:--This is my charge. Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer, About the giving back the great seal to us, The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.
So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
[Exeunt all but Wolsey.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root,
But, thus much, they are foul ones.
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
So much fairer, This many summers in a sea of glory;
And spotless, shall mine innocence arise, When the king knows my truth. Sur. This cannot save you: Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
I thank my memory, I yet remember Some of these articles; and out they shall. Now, if you can, blush, and cry guilty, cardinal, You'll show a little honesty.
I dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have
First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king To be your servant. Suff.
Then, that, without the knowledge
(1) Equal. (2) Ridden.
(3) A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth.
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.-
Enter Cromwell, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwell?
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
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