{"collection":"sks","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/sks/kh8/kh8.htm","path":"sks/kh8/kh8.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/sks/kh8/kh8.htm","text":"KING HENRY VIII\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\nKING HENRY\nthe Eighth (KING HENRY VIII:)\nCARDINAL WOLSEY:\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS:\nCAPUCIUS Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V\nCRANMER Archbishop of Canterbury.\nDUKE OF NORFOLK (NORFOLK:)\nDUKE OF BUCKINGHAM (BUCKINGHAM:)\nDUKE OF SUFFOLK (SUFFOLK:)\nEARL OF SURREY (SURREY:)\nLord Chamberlain (Chamberlain:)\nLord Chancellor (Chancellor:)\nGARDINER Bishop of Winchester.\nBishop of Lincoln. (LINCOLN:)\nLORD ABERGAVENNY (ABERGAVENNY:)\nLORD SANDS (SANDS:)\nSIR HENRY\nGUILDFORD (GUILDFORD:)\nSIR THOMAS LOVELL (LOVELL:)\nSIR ANTHONY DENNY (DENNY:)\nSIR NICHOLAS VAUX (VAUX:)\nSecretaries to Wolsey.\n(First Secretary:)\n(Second Secretary:)\nCROMWELL Servant to Wolsey.\nGRIFFITH Gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine.\nThree Gentlemen.\n(First Gentleman:)\n(Second Gentleman:)\n(Third Gentleman:)\nDOCTOR BUTTS Physician to the King.\nGarter King-at-Arms. (Garter:)\nSurveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. (Surveyor:)\nBRANDON:\nA Sergeant-at-Arms. (Sergeant:)\nDoor-keeper of the Council-chamber. Porter, (Porter:)\nand his Man. (Man:)\nPage to Gardiner. (Boy:)\nA Crier. (Crier:)\nQUEEN KATHARINE (QUEEN KATHARINE:) Wife to King Henry, afterwards\ndivorced. (KATHARINE:)\nANNE BULLEN (ANNE:) her Maid of Honour, afterwards Queen. (QUEEN ANNE:)\nAn old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen. (Old Lady:)\nPATIENCE woman to Queen Katharine.\nSeveral Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women\nattending upon the Queen; Scribes, Officers, Guards,\nand other Attendants.\nSpirits.\n(Scribe:)\n(Keeper:)\n(Servant:)\n(Messenger:)\nSCENE London; Westminster; Kimbolton\nKING HENRY VIII\nTHE PROLOGUE\nI come no more to make you laugh: things now,\nThat bear a weighty and a serious brow,\nSad, high, and working, full of state and woe,\nSuch noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,\nWe now present. Those that can pity, here\nMay, if they think it well, let fall a tear;\nThe subject will deserve it. Such as give\nTheir money out of hope they may believe,\nMay here find truth too. Those that come to see\nOnly a show or two, and so agree\nThe play may pass, if they be still and willing,\nI'll undertake may see away their shilling\nRichly in two short hours. Only they\nThat come to hear a merry bawdy play,\nA noise of targets, or to see a fellow\nIn a long motley coat guarded with yellow,\nWill be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know,\nTo rank our chosen truth with such a show\nAs fool and fight is, beside forfeiting\nOur own brains, and the opinion that we bring,\nTo make that only true we now intend,\nWill leave us never an understanding friend.\nTherefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known\nThe first and happiest hearers of the town,\nBe sad, as we would make ye: think ye see\nThe very persons of our noble story\nAs they were living; think you see them great,\nAnd follow'd with the general throng and sweat\nOf thousand friends; then in a moment, see\nHow soon this mightiness meets misery:\nAnd, if you can be merry then, I'll say\nA man may weep upon his wedding-day.\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT I\nSCENE I London. An ante-chamber in the palace.\n[Enter NORFOLK at one door; at the other, BUCKINGHAM\nand ABERGAVENNY]\nBUCKINGHAM Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done\nSince last we saw in France?\nNORFOLK I thank your grace,\nHealthful; and ever since a fresh admirer\nOf what I saw there.\nBUCKINGHAM An untimely ague\nStay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when\nThose suns of glory, those two lights of men,\nMet in the vale of Andren.\nNORFOLK 'Twixt Guynes and Arde:\nI was then present, saw them salute on horseback;\nBeheld them, when they lighted, how they clung\nIn their embracement, as they grew together;\nWhich had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd\nSuch a compounded one?\nBUCKINGHAM All the whole time\nI was my chamber's prisoner.\nNORFOLK Then you lost\nThe view of earthly glory: men might say,\nTill this time pomp was single, but now married\nTo one above itself. Each following day\nBecame the next day's master, till the last\nMade former wonders its. To-day the French,\nAll clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,\nShone down the English; and, to-morrow, they\nMade Britain India: every man that stood\nShow'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were\nAs cherubins, all guilt: the madams too,\nNot used to toil, did almost sweat to bear\nThe pride upon them, that their very labour\nWas to them as a painting: now this masque\nWas cried incomparable; and the ensuing night\nMade it a fool and beggar. The two kings,\nEqual in lustre, were now best, now worst,\nAs presence did present them; him in eye,\nStill him in praise: and, being present both\n'Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner\nDurst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns--\nFor so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged\nThe noble spirits to arms, they did perform\nBeyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,\nBeing now seen possible enough, got credit,\nThat Bevis was believed.\nBUCKINGHAM O, you go far.\nNORFOLK As I belong to worship and affect\nIn honour honesty, the tract of every thing\nWould by a good discourser lose some life,\nWhich action's self was tongue to. All was royal;\nTo the disposing of it nought rebell'd.\nOrder gave each thing view; the office did\nDistinctly his full function.\nBUCKINGHAM Who did guide,\nI mean, who set the body and the limbs\nOf this great sport together, as you guess?\nNORFOLK One, certes, that promises no element\nIn such a business.\nBUCKINGHAM I pray you, who, my lord?\nNORFOLK All this was order'd by the good discretion\nOf the right reverend Cardinal of York.\nBUCKINGHAM The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed\nFrom his ambitious finger. What had he\nTo do in these fierce vanities? I wonder\nThat such a keech can with his very bulk\nTake up the rays o' the beneficial sun\nAnd keep it from the earth.\nNORFOLK Surely, sir,\nThere's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;\nFor, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace\nChalks successors their way, nor call'd upon\nFor high feats done to the crown; neither allied\nFor eminent assistants; but, spider-like,\nOut of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,\nThe force of his own merit makes his way\nA gift that heaven gives for him, which buys\nA place next to the king.\nABERGAVENNY I cannot tell\nWhat heaven hath given him,--let some graver eye\nPierce into that; but I can see his pride\nPeep through each part of him: whence has he that,\nIf not from hell? the devil is a niggard,\nOr has given all before, and he begins\nA new hell in himself.\nBUCKINGHAM Why the devil,\nUpon this French going out, took he upon him,\nWithout the privity o' the king, to appoint\nWho should attend on him? He makes up the file\nOf all the gentry; for the most part such\nTo whom as great a charge as little honour\nHe meant to lay upon: and his own letter,\nThe honourable board of council out,\nMust fetch him in the papers.\nABERGAVENNY I do know\nKinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have\nBy this so sickened their estates, that never\nThey shall abound as formerly.\nBUCKINGHAM O, many\nHave broke their backs with laying manors on 'em\nFor this great journey. What did this vanity\nBut minister communication of\nA most poor issue?\nNORFOLK Grievingly I think,\nThe peace between the French and us not values\nThe cost that did conclude it.\nBUCKINGHAM Every man,\nAfter the hideous storm that follow'd, was\nA thing inspired; and, not consulting, broke\nInto a general prophecy; That this tempest,\nDashing the garment of this peace, aboded\nThe sudden breach on't.\nNORFOLK Which is budded out;\nFor France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd\nOur merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.\nABERGAVENNY Is it therefore\nThe ambassador is silenced?\nNORFOLK Marry, is't.\nABERGAVENNY A proper title of a peace; and purchased\nAt a superfluous rate!\nBUCKINGHAM Why, all this business\nOur reverend cardinal carried.\nNORFOLK Like it your grace,\nThe state takes notice of the private difference\nBetwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you--\nAnd take it from a heart that wishes towards you\nHonour and plenteous safety--that you read\nThe cardinal's malice and his potency\nTogether; to consider further that\nWhat his high hatred would effect wants not\nA minister in his power. You know his nature,\nThat he's revengeful, and I know his sword\nHath a sharp edge: it's long and, 't may be said,\nIt reaches far, and where 'twill not extend,\nThither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,\nYou'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock\nThat I advise your shunning.\n[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him,\ncertain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with\npapers. CARDINAL WOLSEY in his passage fixeth his\neye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full\nof disdain]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?\nWhere's his examination?\nFirst Secretary Here, so please you.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Is he in person ready?\nFirst Secretary Ay, please your grace.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham\nShall lessen this big look.\n[Exeunt CARDINAL WOLSEY and his Train]\nBUCKINGHAM This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I\nHave not the power to muzzle him; therefore best\nNot wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book\nOutworths a noble's blood.\nNORFOLK What, are you chafed?\nAsk God for temperance; that's the appliance only\nWhich your disease requires.\nBUCKINGHAM I read in's looks\nMatter against me; and his eye reviled\nMe, as his abject object: at this instant\nHe bores me with some trick: he's gone to the king;\nI'll follow and outstare him.\nNORFOLK Stay, my lord,\nAnd let your reason with your choler question\nWhat 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills\nRequires slow pace at first: anger is like\nA full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,\nSelf-mettle tires him. Not a man in England\nCan advise me like you: be to yourself\nAs you would to your friend.\nBUCKINGHAM I'll to the king;\nAnd from a mouth of honour quite cry down\nThis Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim\nThere's difference in no persons.\nNORFOLK Be advised;\nHeat not a furnace for your foe so hot\nThat it do singe yourself: we may outrun,\nBy violent swiftness, that which we run at,\nAnd lose by over-running. Know you not,\nThe fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er,\nIn seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised:\nI say again, there is no English soul\nMore stronger to direct you than yourself,\nIf with the sap of reason you would quench,\nOr but allay, the fire of passion.\nBUCKINGHAM Sir,\nI am thankful to you; and I'll go along\nBy your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,\nWhom from the flow of gall I name not but\nFrom sincere motions, by intelligence,\nAnd proofs as clear as founts in July when\nWe see each grain of gravel, I do know\nTo be corrupt and treasonous.\nNORFOLK Say not 'treasonous.'\nBUCKINGHAM To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong\nAs shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,\nOr wolf, or both,--for he is equal ravenous\nAs he is subtle, and as prone to mischief\nAs able to perform't; his mind and place\nInfecting one another, yea, reciprocally--\nOnly to show his pomp as well in France\nAs here at home, suggests the king our master\nTo this last costly treaty, the interview,\nThat swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass\nDid break i' the rinsing.\nNORFOLK Faith, and so it did.\nBUCKINGHAM Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal\nThe articles o' the combination drew\nAs himself pleased; and they were ratified\nAs he cried 'Thus let be': to as much end\nAs give a crutch to the dead: but our count-cardinal\nHas done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,\nWho cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,--\nWhich, as I take it, is a kind of puppy\nTo the old dam, treason,--Charles the emperor,\nUnder pretence to see the queen his aunt--\nFor 'twas indeed his colour, but he came\nTo whisper Wolsey,--here makes visitation:\nHis fears were, that the interview betwixt\nEngland and France might, through their amity,\nBreed him some prejudice; for from this league\nPeep'd harms that menaced him: he privily\nDeals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,--\nWhich I do well; for I am sure the emperor\nPaid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted\nEre it was ask'd; but when the way was made,\nAnd paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,\nThat he would please to alter the king's course,\nAnd break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,\nAs soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal\nDoes buy and sell his honour as he pleases,\nAnd for his own advantage.\nNORFOLK I am sorry\nTo hear this of him; and could wish he were\nSomething mistaken in't.\nBUCKINGHAM No, not a syllable:\nI do pronounce him in that very shape\nHe shall appear in proof.\n[Enter BRANDON, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and\ntwo or three of the Guard]\nBRANDON Your office, sergeant; execute it.\nSergeant Sir,\nMy lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl\nOf Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I\nArrest thee of high treason, in the name\nOf our most sovereign king.\nBUCKINGHAM Lo, you, my lord,\nThe net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish\nUnder device and practise.\nBRANDON I am sorry\nTo see you ta'en from liberty, to look on\nThe business present: 'tis his highness' pleasure\nYou shall to the Tower.\nBUCKINGHAM It will help me nothing\nTo plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me\nWhich makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven\nBe done in this and all things! I obey.\nO my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!\nBRANDON Nay, he must bear you company. The king\n[To ABERGAVENNY]\nIs pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know\nHow he determines further.\nABERGAVENNY As the duke said,\nThe will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure\nBy me obey'd!\nBRANDON Here is a warrant from\nThe king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies\nOf the duke's confessor, John de la Car,\nOne Gilbert Peck, his chancellor--\nBUCKINGHAM So, so;\nThese are the limbs o' the plot: no more, I hope.\nBRANDON A monk o' the Chartreux.\nBUCKINGHAM O, Nicholas Hopkins?\nBRANDON He.\nBUCKINGHAM My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal\nHath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already:\nI am the shadow of poor Buckingham,\nWhose figure even this instant cloud puts on,\nBy darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT I\nSCENE II The same. The council-chamber.\n[Cornets. Enter KING HENRY VIII, leaning on\nCARDINAL WOLSEY's shoulder, the Nobles, and LOVELL;\nCARDINAL WOLSEY places himself under KING HENRY\nVIII's feet on his right side]\nKING HENRY VIII My life itself, and the best heart of it,\nThanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level\nOf a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks\nTo you that choked it. Let be call'd before us\nThat gentleman of Buckingham's; in person\nI'll hear him his confessions justify;\nAnd point by point the treasons of his master\nHe shall again relate.\n[A noise within, crying 'Room for the Queen!' Enter\nQUEEN KATHARINE, ushered by NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK:\nshe kneels. KING HENRY VIII riseth from his state,\ntakes her up, kisses and placeth her by him]\nQUEEN KATHARINE Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.\nKING HENRY VIII Arise, and take place by us: half your suit\nNever name to us; you have half our power:\nThe other moiety, ere you ask, is given;\nRepeat your will and take it.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Thank your majesty.\nThat you would love yourself, and in that love\nNot unconsider'd leave your honour, nor\nThe dignity of your office, is the point\nOf my petition.\nKING HENRY VIII Lady mine, proceed.\nQUEEN KATHARINE I am solicited, not by a few,\nAnd those of true condition, that your subjects\nAre in great grievance: there have been commissions\nSent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart\nOf all their loyalties: wherein, although,\nMy good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches\nMost bitterly on you, as putter on\nOf these exactions, yet the king our master--\nWhose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he\nescapes not\nLanguage unmannerly, yea, such which breaks\nThe sides of loyalty, and almost appears\nIn loud rebellion.\nNORFOLK Not almost appears,\nIt doth appear; for, upon these taxations,\nThe clothiers all, not able to maintain\nThe many to them longing, have put off\nThe spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,\nUnfit for other life, compell'd by hunger\nAnd lack of other means, in desperate manner\nDaring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,\nAnd danger serves among then!\nKING HENRY VIII Taxation!\nWherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal,\nYou that are blamed for it alike with us,\nKnow you of this taxation?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Please you, sir,\nI know but of a single part, in aught\nPertains to the state; and front but in that file\nWhere others tell steps with me.\nQUEEN KATHARINE No, my lord,\nYou know no more than others; but you frame\nThings that are known alike; which are not wholesome\nTo those which would not know them, and yet must\nPerforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,\nWhereof my sovereign would have note, they are\nMost pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear 'em,\nThe back is sacrifice to the load. They say\nThey are devised by you; or else you suffer\nToo hard an exclamation.\nKING HENRY VIII Still exaction!\nThe nature of it? in what kind, let's know,\nIs this exaction?\nQUEEN KATHARINE I am much too venturous\nIn tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd\nUnder your promised pardon. The subjects' grief\nComes through commissions, which compel from each\nThe sixth part of his substance, to be levied\nWithout delay; and the pretence for this\nIs named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths:\nTongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze\nAllegiance in them; their curses now\nLive where their prayers did: and it's come to pass,\nThis tractable obedience is a slave\nTo each incensed will. I would your highness\nWould give it quick consideration, for\nThere is no primer business.\nKING HENRY VIII By my life,\nThis is against our pleasure.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY And for me,\nI have no further gone in this than by\nA single voice; and that not pass'd me but\nBy learned approbation of the judges. If I am\nTraduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know\nMy faculties nor person, yet will be\nThe chronicles of my doing, let me say\n'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake\nThat virtue must go through. We must not stint\nOur necessary actions, in the fear\nTo cope malicious censurers; which ever,\nAs ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow\nThat is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further\nThan vainly longing. What we oft do best,\nBy sick interpreters, once weak ones, is\nNot ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,\nHitting a grosser quality, is cried up\nFor our best act. If we shall stand still,\nIn fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,\nWe should take root here where we sit, or sit\nState-statues only.\nKING HENRY VIII Things done well,\nAnd with a care, exempt themselves from fear;\nThings done without example, in their issue\nAre to be fear'd. Have you a precedent\nOf this commission? I believe, not any.\nWe must not rend our subjects from our laws,\nAnd stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?\nA trembling contribution! Why, we take\nFrom every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber;\nAnd, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,\nThe air will drink the sap. To every county\nWhere this is question'd send our letters, with\nFree pardon to each man that has denied\nThe force of this commission: pray, look to't;\nI put it to your care.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY A word with you.\n[To the Secretary]\nLet there be letters writ to every shire,\nOf the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons\nHardly conceive of me; let it be noised\nThat through our intercession this revokement\nAnd pardon comes: I shall anon advise you\nFurther in the proceeding.\n[Exit Secretary]\n[Enter Surveyor]\nQUEEN KATHARINE I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham\nIs run in your displeasure.\nKING HENRY VIII It grieves many:\nThe gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker;\nTo nature none more bound; his training such,\nThat he may furnish and instruct great teachers,\nAnd never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,\nWhen these so noble benefits shall prove\nNot well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,\nThey turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly\nThan ever they were fair. This man so complete,\nWho was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,\nAlmost with ravish'd listening, could not find\nHis hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,\nHath into monstrous habits put the graces\nThat once were his, and is become as black\nAs if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear--\nThis was his gentleman in trust--of him\nThings to strike honour sad. Bid him recount\nThe fore-recited practises; whereof\nWe cannot feel too little, hear too much.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,\nMost like a careful subject, have collected\nOut of the Duke of Buckingham.\nKING HENRY VIII Speak freely.\nSurveyor First, it was usual with him, every day\nIt would infect his speech, that if the king\nShould without issue die, he'll carry it so\nTo make the sceptre his: these very words\nI've heard him utter to his son-in-law,\nLord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced\nRevenge upon the cardinal.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Please your highness, note\nThis dangerous conception in this point.\nNot friended by by his wish, to your high person\nHis will is most malignant; and it stretches\nBeyond you, to your friends.\nQUEEN KATHARINE My learn'd lord cardinal,\nDeliver all with charity.\nKING HENRY VIII Speak on:\nHow grounded he his title to the crown,\nUpon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him\nAt any time speak aught?\nSurveyor He was brought to this\nBy a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.\nKING HENRY VIII What was that Hopkins?\nSurveyor Sir, a Chartreux friar,\nHis confessor, who fed him every minute\nWith words of sovereignty.\nKING HENRY VIII How know'st thou this?\nSurveyor Not long before your highness sped to France,\nThe duke being at the Rose, within the parish\nSaint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand\nWhat was the speech among the Londoners\nConcerning the French journey: I replied,\nMen fear'd the French would prove perfidious,\nTo the king's danger. Presently the duke\nSaid, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted\n'Twould prove the verity of certain words\nSpoke by a holy monk; 'that oft,' says he,\n'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit\nJohn de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour\nTo hear from him a matter of some moment:\nWhom after under the confession's seal\nHe solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke\nMy chaplain to no creature living, but\nTo me, should utter, with demure confidence\nThis pausingly ensued: neither the king nor's heirs,\nTell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive\nTo gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke\nShall govern England.'\nQUEEN KATHARINE If I know you well,\nYou were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office\nOn the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed\nYou charge not in your spleen a noble person\nAnd spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed;\nYes, heartily beseech you.\nKING HENRY VIII Let him on.\nGo forward.\nSurveyor On my soul, I'll speak but truth.\nI told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions\nThe monk might be deceived; and that 'twas dangerous for him\nTo ruminate on this so far, until\nIt forged him some design, which, being believed,\nIt was much like to do: he answer'd, 'Tush,\nIt can do me no damage;' adding further,\nThat, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,\nThe cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads\nShould have gone off.\nKING HENRY VIII Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!\nThere's mischief in this man: canst thou say further?\nSurveyor I can, my liege.\nKING HENRY VIII Proceed.\nSurveyor Being at Greenwich,\nAfter your highness had reproved the duke\nAbout Sir William Blomer,--\nKING HENRY VIII I remember\nOf such a time: being my sworn servant,\nThe duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?\nSurveyor 'If,' quoth he, 'I for this had been committed,\nAs, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd\nThe part my father meant to act upon\nThe usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,\nMade suit to come in's presence; which if granted,\nAs he made semblance of his duty, would\nHave put his knife to him.'\nKING HENRY VIII A giant traitor!\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,\nand this man out of prison?\nQUEEN KATHARINE God mend all!\nKING HENRY VIII There's something more would out of thee; what say'st?\nSurveyor After 'the duke his father,' with 'the knife,'\nHe stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,\nAnother spread on's breast, mounting his eyes\nHe did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenor\nWas,--were he evil used, he would outgo\nHis father by as much as a performance\nDoes an irresolute purpose.\nKING HENRY VIII There's his period,\nTo sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd;\nCall him to present trial: if he may\nFind mercy in the law, 'tis his: if none,\nLet him not seek 't of us: by day and night,\nHe's traitor to the height.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT I\nSCENE III An ante-chamber in the palace.\n[Enter Chamberlain and SANDS]\nChamberlain Is't possible the spells of France should juggle\nMen into such strange mysteries?\nSANDS New customs,\nThough they be never so ridiculous,\nNay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.\nChamberlain As far as I see, all the good our English\nHave got by the late voyage is but merely\nA fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;\nFor when they hold 'em, you would swear directly\nTheir very noses had been counsellors\nTo Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.\nSANDS They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,\nThat never saw 'em pace before, the spavin\nOr springhalt reign'd among 'em.\nChamberlain Death! my lord,\nTheir clothes are after such a pagan cut too,\nThat, sure, they've worn out Christendom.\n[Enter LOVELL]\nHow now!\nWhat news, Sir Thomas Lovell?\nLOVELL Faith, my lord,\nI hear of none, but the new proclamation\nThat's clapp'd upon the court-gate.\nChamberlain What is't for?\nLOVELL The reformation of our travell'd gallants,\nThat fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.\nChamberlain I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs\nTo think an English courtier may be wise,\nAnd never see the Louvre.\nLOVELL They must either,\nFor so run the conditions, leave those remnants\nOf fool and feather that they got in France,\nWith all their honourable point of ignorance\nPertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,\nAbusing better men than they can be,\nOut of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean\nThe faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,\nShort blister'd breeches, and those types of travel,\nAnd understand again like honest men;\nOr pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,\nThey may, 'cum privilegio,' wear away\nThe lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.\nSANDS 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases\nAre grown so catching.\nChamberlain What a loss our ladies\nWill have of these trim vanities!\nLOVELL Ay, marry,\nThere will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons\nHave got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;\nA French song and a fiddle has no fellow.\nSANDS The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,\nFor, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now\nAn honest country lord, as I am, beaten\nA long time out of play, may bring his plainsong\nAnd have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,\nHeld current music too.\nChamberlain Well said, Lord Sands;\nYour colt's tooth is not cast yet.\nSANDS No, my lord;\nNor shall not, while I have a stump.\nChamberlain Sir Thomas,\nWhither were you a-going?\nLOVELL To the cardinal's:\nYour lordship is a guest too.\nChamberlain O, 'tis true:\nThis night he makes a supper, and a great one,\nTo many lords and ladies; there will be\nThe beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.\nLOVELL That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,\nA hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;\nHis dews fall every where.\nChamberlain No doubt he's noble;\nHe had a black mouth that said other of him.\nSANDS He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him\nSparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:\nMen of his way should be most liberal;\nThey are set here for examples.\nChamberlain True, they are so:\nBut few now give so great ones. My barge stays;\nYour lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,\nWe shall be late else; which I would not be,\nFor I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford\nThis night to be comptrollers.\nSANDS I am your lordship's.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT I\nSCENE IV A Hall in York Place.\n[Hautboys. A small table under a state for CARDINAL\nWOLSEY, a longer table for the guests. Then enter\nANNE and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as\nguests, at one door; at another door, enter\nGUILDFORD]\nGUILDFORD Ladies, a general welcome from his grace\nSalutes ye all; this night he dedicates\nTo fair content and you: none here, he hopes,\nIn all this noble bevy, has brought with her\nOne care abroad; he would have all as merry\nAs, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,\nCan make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:\n[Enter Chamberlain, SANDS, and LOVELL]\nThe very thought of this fair company\nClapp'd wings to me.\nChamberlain You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.\nSANDS Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal\nBut half my lay thoughts in him, some of these\nShould find a running banquet ere they rested,\nI think would better please 'em: by my life,\nThey are a sweet society of fair ones.\nLOVELL O, that your lordship were but now confessor\nTo one or two of these!\nSANDS I would I were;\nThey should find easy penance.\nLOVELL Faith, how easy?\nSANDS As easy as a down-bed would afford it.\nChamberlain Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,\nPlace you that side; I'll take the charge of this:\nHis grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze;\nTwo women placed together makes cold weather:\nMy Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;\nPray, sit between these ladies.\nSANDS By my faith,\nAnd thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies:\nIf I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;\nI had it from my father.\nANNE Was he mad, sir?\nSANDS O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:\nBut he would bite none; just as I do now,\nHe would kiss you twenty with a breath.\n[Kisses her]\nChamberlain Well said, my lord.\nSo, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,\nThe penance lies on you, if these fair ladies\nPass away frowning.\nSANDS For my little cure,\nLet me alone.\n[Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, and takes his state]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,\nOr gentleman, that is not freely merry,\nIs not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome;\nAnd to you all, good health.\n[Drinks]\nSANDS Your grace is noble:\nLet me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,\nAnd save me so much talking.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY My Lord Sands,\nI am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.\nLadies, you are not merry: gentlemen,\nWhose fault is this?\nSANDS The red wine first must rise\nIn their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em\nTalk us to silence.\nANNE You are a merry gamester,\nMy Lord Sands.\nSANDS Yes, if I make my play.\nHere's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam,\nFor 'tis to such a thing,--\nANNE You cannot show me.\nSANDS I told your grace they would talk anon.\n[Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY What's that?\nChamberlain Look out there, some of ye.\n[Exit Servant]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY What warlike voice,\nAnd to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;\nBy all the laws of war you're privileged.\n[Re-enter Servant]\nChamberlain How now! what is't?\nServant A noble troop of strangers;\nFor so they seem: they've left their barge and landed;\nAnd hither make, as great ambassadors\nFrom foreign princes.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Good lord chamberlain,\nGo, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;\nAnd, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em\nInto our presence, where this heaven of beauty\nShall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.\n[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables removed]\nYou have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.\nA good digestion to you all: and once more\nI shower a welcome on ye; welcome all.\n[Hautboys. Enter KING HENRY VIII and others, as\nmasquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the\nChamberlain. They pass directly before CARDINAL\nWOLSEY, and gracefully salute him]\nA noble company! what are their pleasures?\nChamberlain Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd\nTo tell your grace, that, having heard by fame\nOf this so noble and so fair assembly\nThis night to meet here, they could do no less\nOut of the great respect they bear to beauty,\nBut leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,\nCrave leave to view these ladies and entreat\nAn hour of revels with 'em.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Say, lord chamberlain,\nThey have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em\nA thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.\n[They choose Ladies for the dance. KING HENRY VIII\nchooses ANNE]\nKING HENRY VIII The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,\nTill now I never knew thee!\n[Music. Dance]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY My lord!\nChamberlain Your grace?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:\nThere should be one amongst 'em, by his person,\nMore worthy this place than myself; to whom,\nIf I but knew him, with my love and duty\nI would surrender it.\nChamberlain I will, my lord.\n[Whispers the Masquers]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY What say they?\nChamberlain Such a one, they all confess,\nThere is indeed; which they would have your grace\nFind out, and he will take it.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Let me see, then.\nBy all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll make\nMy royal choice.\nKING HENRY VIII Ye have found him, cardinal:\n[Unmasking]\nYou hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:\nYou are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,\nI should judge now unhappily.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY I am glad\nYour grace is grown so pleasant.\nKING HENRY VIII My lord chamberlain,\nPrithee, come hither: what fair lady's that?\nChamberlain An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter--\nThe Viscount Rochford,--one of her highness' women.\nKING HENRY VIII By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,\nI were unmannerly, to take you out,\nAnd not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!\nLet it go round.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready\nI' the privy chamber?\nLOVELL Yes, my lord.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Your grace,\nI fear, with dancing is a little heated.\nKING HENRY VIII I fear, too much.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY There's fresher air, my lord,\nIn the next chamber.\nKING HENRY VIII Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,\nI must not yet forsake you: let's be merry:\nGood my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths\nTo drink to these fair ladies, and a measure\nTo lead 'em once again; and then let's dream\nWho's best in favour. Let the music knock it.\n[Exeunt with trumpets]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT II\nSCENE I Westminster. A street.\n[Enter two Gentlemen, meeting]\nFirst Gentleman Whither away so fast?\nSecond Gentleman O, God save ye!\nEven to the hall, to hear what shall become\nOf the great Duke of Buckingham.\nFirst Gentleman I'll save you\nThat labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony\nOf bringing back the prisoner.\nSecond Gentleman Were you there?\nFirst Gentleman Yes, indeed, was I.\nSecond Gentleman Pray, speak what has happen'd.\nFirst Gentleman You may guess quickly what.\nSecond Gentleman Is he found guilty?\nFirst Gentleman Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.\nSecond Gentleman I am sorry for't.\nFirst Gentleman So are a number more.\nSecond Gentleman But, pray, how pass'd it?\nFirst Gentleman I'll tell you in a little. The great duke\nCame to the bar; where to his accusations\nHe pleaded still not guilty and alleged\nMany sharp reasons to defeat the law.\nThe king's attorney on the contrary\nUrged on the examinations, proofs, confessions\nOf divers witnesses; which the duke desired\nTo have brought viva voce to his face:\nAt which appear'd against him his surveyor;\nSir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,\nConfessor to him; with that devil-monk,\nHopkins, that made this mischief.\nSecond Gentleman That was he\nThat fed him with his prophecies?\nFirst Gentleman The same.\nAll these accused him strongly; which he fain\nWould have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:\nAnd so his peers, upon this evidence,\nHave found him guilty of high treason. Much\nHe spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all\nWas either pitied in him or forgotten.\nSecond Gentleman After all this, how did he bear himself?\nFirst Gentleman When he was brought again to the bar, to hear\nHis knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd\nWith such an agony, he sweat extremely,\nAnd something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:\nBut he fell to himself again, and sweetly\nIn all the rest show'd a most noble patience.\nSecond Gentleman I do not think he fears death.\nFirst Gentleman Sure, he does not:\nHe never was so womanish; the cause\nHe may a little grieve at.\nSecond Gentleman Certainly\nThe cardinal is the end of this.\nFirst Gentleman 'Tis likely,\nBy all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,\nThen deputy of Ireland; who removed,\nEarl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,\nLest he should help his father.\nSecond Gentleman That trick of state\nWas a deep envious one.\nFirst Gentleman At his return\nNo doubt he will requite it. This is noted,\nAnd generally, whoever the king favours,\nThe cardinal instantly will find employment,\nAnd far enough from court too.\nSecond Gentleman All the commons\nHate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,\nWish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much\nThey love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,\nThe mirror of all courtesy;--\nFirst Gentleman Stay there, sir,\nAnd see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.\n[Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; tip-staves\nbefore him; the axe with the edge towards him;\nhalberds on each side: accompanied with LOVELL,\nVAUX, SANDS, and common people]\nSecond Gentleman Let's stand close, and behold him.\nBUCKINGHAM All good people,\nYou that thus far have come to pity me,\nHear what I say, and then go home and lose me.\nI have this day received a traitor's judgment,\nAnd by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,\nAnd if I have a conscience, let it sink me,\nEven as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!\nThe law I bear no malice for my death;\n'T has done, upon the premises, but justice:\nBut those that sought it I could wish more Christians:\nBe what they will, I heartily forgive 'em:\nYet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,\nNor build their evils on the graves of great men;\nFor then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.\nFor further life in this world I ne'er hope,\nNor will I sue, although the king have mercies\nMore than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,\nAnd dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,\nHis noble friends and fellows, whom to leave\nIs only bitter to him, only dying,\nGo with me, like good angels, to my end;\nAnd, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,\nMake of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,\nAnd lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name.\nLOVELL I do beseech your grace, for charity,\nIf ever any malice in your heart\nWere hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.\nBUCKINGHAM Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you\nAs I would be forgiven: I forgive all;\nThere cannot be those numberless offences\n'Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with:\nno black envy\nShall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace;\nAnd if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him\nYou met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers\nYet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake,\nShall cry for blessings on him: may he live\nLonger than I have time to tell his years!\nEver beloved and loving may his rule be!\nAnd when old time shall lead him to his end,\nGoodness and he fill up one monument!\nLOVELL To the water side I must conduct your grace;\nThen give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,\nWho undertakes you to your end.\nVAUX Prepare there,\nThe duke is coming: see the barge be ready;\nAnd fit it with such furniture as suits\nThe greatness of his person.\nBUCKINGHAM Nay, Sir Nicholas,\nLet it alone; my state now will but mock me.\nWhen I came hither, I was lord high constable\nAnd Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:\nYet I am richer than my base accusers,\nThat never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;\nAnd with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.\nMy noble father, Henry of Buckingham,\nWho first raised head against usurping Richard,\nFlying for succor to his servant Banister,\nBeing distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,\nAnd without trial fell; God's peace be with him!\nHenry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying\nMy father's loss, like a most royal prince,\nRestored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,\nMade my name once more noble. Now his son,\nHenry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all\nThat made me happy at one stroke has taken\nFor ever from the world. I had my trial,\nAnd, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me,\nA little happier than my wretched father:\nYet thus far we are one in fortunes: both\nFell by our servants, by those men we loved most;\nA most unnatural and faithless service!\nHeaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,\nThis from a dying man receive as certain:\nWhere you are liberal of your loves and counsels\nBe sure you be not loose; for those you make friends\nAnd give your hearts to, when they once perceive\nThe least rub in your fortunes, fall away\nLike water from ye, never found again\nBut where they mean to sink ye. All good people,\nPray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour\nOf my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell:\nAnd when you would say something that is sad,\nSpeak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!\n[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train]\nFirst Gentleman O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,\nI fear, too many curses on their beads\nThat were the authors.\nSecond Gentleman If the duke be guiltless,\n'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling\nOf an ensuing evil, if it fall,\nGreater than this.\nFirst Gentleman Good angels keep it from us!\nWhat may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?\nSecond Gentleman This secret is so weighty, 'twill require\nA strong faith to conceal it.\nFirst Gentleman Let me have it;\nI do not talk much.\nSecond Gentleman I am confident,\nYou shall, sir: did you not of late days hear\nA buzzing of a separation\nBetween the king and Katharine?\nFirst Gentleman Yes, but it held not:\nFor when the king once heard it, out of anger\nHe sent command to the lord mayor straight\nTo stop the rumor, and allay those tongues\nThat durst disperse it.\nSecond Gentleman But that slander, sir,\nIs found a truth now: for it grows again\nFresher than e'er it was; and held for certain\nThe king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,\nOr some about him near, have, out of malice\nTo the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple\nThat will undo her: to confirm this too,\nCardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;\nAs all think, for this business.\nFirst Gentleman 'Tis the cardinal;\nAnd merely to revenge him on the emperor\nFor not bestowing on him, at his asking,\nThe archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.\nSecond Gentleman I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel\nThat she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal\nWill have his will, and she must fall.\nFirst Gentleman 'Tis woful.\nWe are too open here to argue this;\nLet's think in private more.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT II\nSCENE II An ante-chamber in the palace.\n[Enter Chamberlain, reading a letter]\nChamberlain 'My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with\nall the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and\nfurnished. They were young and handsome, and of the\nbest breed in the north. When they were ready to\nset out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by\ncommission and main power, took 'em from me; with\nthis reason: His master would be served before a\nsubject, if not before the king; which stopped our\nmouths, sir.'\nI fear he will indeed: well, let him have them:\nHe will have all, I think.\n[Enter, to Chamberlain, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]\nNORFOLK Well met, my lord chamberlain.\nChamberlain Good day to both your graces.\nSUFFOLK How is the king employ'd?\nChamberlain I left him private,\nFull of sad thoughts and troubles.\nNORFOLK What's the cause?\nChamberlain It seems the marriage with his brother's wife\nHas crept too near his conscience.\nSUFFOLK No, his conscience\nHas crept too near another lady.\nNORFOLK 'Tis so:\nThis is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:\nThat blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,\nTurns what he list. The king will know him one day.\nSUFFOLK Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.\nNORFOLK How holily he works in all his business!\nAnd with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league\nBetween us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,\nHe dives into the king's soul, and there scatters\nDangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,\nFears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage:\nAnd out of all these to restore the king,\nHe counsels a divorce; a loss of her\nThat, like a jewel, has hung twenty years\nAbout his neck, yet never lost her lustre;\nOf her that loves him with that excellence\nThat angels love good men with; even of her\nThat, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,\nWill bless the king: and is not this course pious?\nChamberlain Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true\nThese news are every where; every tongue speaks 'em,\nAnd every true heart weeps for't: all that dare\nLook into these affairs see this main end,\nThe French king's sister. Heaven will one day open\nThe king's eyes, that so long have slept upon\nThis bold bad man.\nSUFFOLK And free us from his slavery.\nNORFOLK We had need pray,\nAnd heartily, for our deliverance;\nOr this imperious man will work us all\nFrom princes into pages: all men's honours\nLie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd\nInto what pitch he please.\nSUFFOLK For me, my lords,\nI love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:\nAs I am made without him, so I'll stand,\nIf the king please; his curses and his blessings\nTouch me alike, they're breath I not believe in.\nI knew him, and I know him; so I leave him\nTo him that made him proud, the pope.\nNORFOLK Let's in;\nAnd with some other business put the king\nFrom these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:\nMy lord, you'll bear us company?\nChamberlain Excuse me;\nThe king has sent me otherwhere: besides,\nYou'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:\nHealth to your lordships.\nNORFOLK Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.\n[Exit Chamberlain; and KING HENRY VIII draws the\ncurtain, and sits reading pensively]\nSUFFOLK How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.\nKING HENRY VIII Who's there, ha?\nNORFOLK Pray God he be not angry.\nKING HENRY VIII Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves\nInto my private meditations?\nWho am I? ha?\nNORFOLK A gracious king that pardons all offences\nMalice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way\nIs business of estate; in which we come\nTo know your royal pleasure.\nKING HENRY VIII Ye are too bold:\nGo to; I'll make ye know your times of business:\nIs this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?\n[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS, with\na commission]\nWho's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey,\nThe quiet of my wounded conscience;\nThou art a cure fit for a king.\n[To CARDINAL CAMPEIUS]\nYou're welcome,\nMost learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:\nUse us and it.\n[To CARDINAL WOLSEY]\nMy good lord, have great care\nI be not found a talker.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Sir, you cannot.\nI would your grace would give us but an hour\nOf private conference.\nKING HENRY VIII [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]\nWe are busy; go.\nNORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK]\nThis priest has no pride in him?\nSUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of:\nI would not be so sick though for his place:\nBut this cannot continue.\nNORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do,\nI'll venture one have-at-him.\nSUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] I another.\n[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom\nAbove all princes, in committing freely\nYour scruple to the voice of Christendom:\nWho can be angry now? what envy reach you?\nThe Spaniard, tied blood and favour to her,\nMust now confess, if they have any goodness,\nThe trial just and noble. All the clerks,\nI mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms\nHave their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment,\nInvited by your noble self, hath sent\nOne general tongue unto us, this good man,\nThis just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;\nWhom once more I present unto your highness.\nKING HENRY VIII And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,\nAnd thank the holy conclave for their loves:\nThey have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,\nYou are so noble. To your highness' hand\nI tender my commission; by whose virtue,\nThe court of Rome commanding, you, my lord\nCardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant\nIn the unpartial judging of this business.\nKING HENRY VIII Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted\nForthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY I know your majesty has always loved her\nSo dear in heart, not to deny her that\nA woman of less place might ask by law:\nScholars allow'd freely to argue for her.\nKING HENRY VIII Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour\nTo him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,\nPrithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:\nI find him a fit fellow.\n[Exit CARDINAL WOLSEY]\n[Re-enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, with GARDINER]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand much joy and\nfavour to you;\nYou are the king's now.\nGARDINER [Aside to CARDINAL WOLSEY]\nBut to be commanded\nFor ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.\nKING HENRY VIII Come hither, Gardiner.\n[Walks and whispers]\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace\nIn this man's place before him?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, he was.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Was he not held a learned man?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, surely.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then\nEven of yourself, lord cardinal.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY How! of me?\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS They will not stick to say you envied him,\nAnd fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,\nKept him a foreign man still; which so grieved him,\nThat he ran mad and died.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Heaven's peace be with him!\nThat's Christian care enough: for living murmurers\nThere's places of rebuke. He was a fool;\nFor he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow,\nIf I command him, follows my appointment:\nI will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,\nWe live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.\nKING HENRY VIII Deliver this with modesty to the queen.\n[Exit GARDINER]\nThe most convenient place that I can think of\nFor such receipt of learning is Black-Friars;\nThere ye shall meet about this weighty business.\nMy Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,\nWould it not grieve an able man to leave\nSo sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!\nO, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT II\nSCENE III An ante-chamber of the QUEEN'S apartments.\n[Enter ANNE and an Old Lady]\nANNE Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches:\nHis highness having lived so long with her, and she\nSo good a lady that no tongue could ever\nPronounce dishonour of her; by my life,\nShe never knew harm-doing: O, now, after\nSo many courses of the sun enthroned,\nStill growing in a majesty and pomp, the which\nTo leave a thousand-fold more bitter than\n'Tis sweet at first to acquire,--after this process,\nTo give her the avaunt! it is a pity\nWould move a monster.\nOld Lady Hearts of most hard temper\nMelt and lament for her.\nANNE O, God's will! much better\nShe ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal,\nYet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce\nIt from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging\nAs soul and body's severing.\nOld Lady Alas, poor lady!\nShe's a stranger now again.\nANNE So much the more\nMust pity drop upon her. Verily,\nI swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,\nAnd range with humble livers in content,\nThan to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,\nAnd wear a golden sorrow.\nOld Lady Our content\nIs our best having.\nANNE By my troth and maidenhead,\nI would not be a queen.\nOld Lady Beshrew me, I would,\nAnd venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,\nFor all this spice of your hypocrisy:\nYou, that have so fair parts of woman on you,\nHave too a woman's heart; which ever yet\nAffected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;\nWhich, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,\nSaving your mincing, the capacity\nOf your soft cheveril conscience would receive,\nIf you might please to stretch it.\nANNE Nay, good troth.\nOld Lady Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen?\nANNE No, not for all the riches under heaven.\nOld Lady: 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me,\nOld as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you,\nWhat think you of a duchess? have you limbs\nTo bear that load of title?\nANNE No, in truth.\nOld Lady Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little;\nI would not be a young count in your way,\nFor more than blushing comes to: if your back\nCannot vouchsafe this burthen,'tis too weak\nEver to get a boy.\nANNE How you do talk!\nI swear again, I would not be a queen\nFor all the world.\nOld Lady In faith, for little England\nYou'ld venture an emballing: I myself\nWould for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd\nNo more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?\n[Enter Chamberlain]\nChamberlain Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know\nThe secret of your conference?\nANNE My good lord,\nNot your demand; it values not your asking:\nOur mistress' sorrows we were pitying.\nChamberlain It was a gentle business, and becoming\nThe action of good women: there is hope\nAll will be well.\nANNE Now, I pray God, amen!\nChamberlain You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings\nFollow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,\nPerceive I speak sincerely, and high note's\nTa'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty\nCommends his good opinion of you, and\nDoes purpose honour to you no less flowing\nThan Marchioness of Pembroke: to which title\nA thousand pound a year, annual support,\nOut of his grace he adds.\nANNE I do not know\nWhat kind of my obedience I should tender;\nMore than my all is nothing: nor my prayers\nAre not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes\nMore worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes\nAre all I can return. Beseech your lordship,\nVouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,\nAs from a blushing handmaid, to his highness;\nWhose health and royalty I pray for.\nChamberlain Lady,\nI shall not fail to approve the fair conceit\nThe king hath of you.\n[Aside]\nI have perused her well;\nBeauty and honour in her are so mingled\nThat they have caught the king: and who knows yet\nBut from this lady may proceed a gem\nTo lighten all this isle? I'll to the king,\nAnd say I spoke with you.\n[Exit Chamberlain]\nANNE My honour'd lord.\nOld Lady Why, this it is; see, see!\nI have been begging sixteen years in court,\nAm yet a courtier beggarly, nor could\nCome pat betwixt too early and too late\nFor any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!\nA very fresh-fish here--fie, fie, fie upon\nThis compell'd fortune!--have your mouth fill'd up\nBefore you open it.\nANNE This is strange to me.\nOld Lady How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.\nThere was a lady once, 'tis an old story,\nThat would not be a queen, that would she not,\nFor all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?\nANNE Come, you are pleasant.\nOld Lady With your theme, I could\nO'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!\nA thousand pounds a year for pure respect!\nNo other obligation! By my life,\nThat promises moe thousands: honour's train\nIs longer than his foreskirt. By this time\nI know your back will bear a duchess: say,\nAre you not stronger than you were?\nANNE Good lady,\nMake yourself mirth with your particular fancy,\nAnd leave me out on't. Would I had no being,\nIf this salute my blood a jot: it faints me,\nTo think what follows.\nThe queen is comfortless, and we forgetful\nIn our long absence: pray, do not deliver\nWhat here you've heard to her.\nOld Lady What do you think me?\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT II\nSCENE IV A hall in Black-Friars.\n[Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers,\nwith short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in\nthe habit of doctors; after them, CANTERBURY alone;\nafter him, LINCOLN, Ely, Rochester, and Saint\nAsaph; next them, with some small distance, follows\na Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal,\nand a cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing\neach a silver cross; then a Gentleman-usher\nbare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeant-at-arms\nbearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen bearing\ntwo great silver pillars; after them, side by side,\nCARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS; two Noblemen\nwith the sword and mace. KING HENRY VIII takes\nplace under the cloth of state; CARDINAL WOLSEY and\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS sit under him as judges. QUEEN\nKATHARINE takes place some distance from KING\nHENRY VIII. The Bishops place themselves on each\nside the court, in manner of a consistory; below\nthem, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops.\nThe rest of the Attendants stand in convenient\norder about the stage]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Whilst our commission from Rome is read,\nLet silence be commanded.\nKING HENRY VIII What's the need?\nIt hath already publicly been read,\nAnd on all sides the authority allow'd;\nYou may, then, spare that time.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Be't so. Proceed.\nScribe Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.\nCrier Henry King of England, &c.\nKING HENRY VIII Here.\nScribe Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.\nCrier Katharine Queen of England, &c.\n[QUEEN KATHARINE makes no answer, rises out of her\nchair, goes about the court, comes to KING HENRY\nVIII, and kneels at his feet; then speaks]\nQUEEN KATHARINE Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;\nAnd to bestow your pity on me: for\nI am a most poor woman, and a stranger,\nBorn out of your dominions; having here\nNo judge indifferent, nor no more assurance\nOf equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,\nIn what have I offended you? what cause\nHath my behavior given to your displeasure,\nThat thus you should proceed to put me off,\nAnd take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,\nI have been to you a true and humble wife,\nAt all times to your will conformable;\nEver in fear to kindle your dislike,\nYea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry\nAs I saw it inclined: when was the hour\nI ever contradicted your desire,\nOr made it not mine too? Or which of your friends\nHave I not strove to love, although I knew\nHe were mine enemy? what friend of mine\nThat had to him derived your anger, did I\nContinue in my liking? nay, gave notice\nHe was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind\nThat I have been your wife, in this obedience,\nUpward of twenty years, and have been blest\nWith many children by you: if, in the course\nAnd process of this time, you can report,\nAnd prove it too, against mine honour aught,\nMy bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,\nAgainst your sacred person, in God's name,\nTurn me away; and let the foul'st contempt\nShut door upon me, and so give me up\nTo the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you sir,\nThe king, your father, was reputed for\nA prince most prudent, of an excellent\nAnd unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,\nMy father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one\nThe wisest prince that there had reign'd by many\nA year before: it is not to be question'd\nThat they had gather'd a wise council to them\nOf every realm, that did debate this business,\nWho deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly\nBeseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may\nBe by my friends in Spain advised; whose counsel\nI will implore: if not, i' the name of God,\nYour pleasure be fulfill'd!\nCARDINAL WOLSEY You have here, lady,\nAnd of your choice, these reverend fathers; men\nOf singular integrity and learning,\nYea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled\nTo plead your cause: it shall be therefore bootless\nThat longer you desire the court; as well\nFor your own quiet, as to rectify\nWhat is unsettled in the king.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS His grace\nHath spoken well and justly: therefore, madam,\nIt's fit this royal session do proceed;\nAnd that, without delay, their arguments\nBe now produced and heard.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Lord cardinal,\nTo you I speak.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Your pleasure, madam?\nQUEEN KATHARINE Sir,\nI am about to weep; but, thinking that\nWe are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain\nThe daughter of a king, my drops of tears\nI'll turn to sparks of fire.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Be patient yet.\nQUEEN KATHARINE I will, when you are humble; nay, before,\nOr God will punish me. I do believe,\nInduced by potent circumstances, that\nYou are mine enemy, and make my challenge\nYou shall not be my judge: for it is you\nHave blown this coal betwixt my lord and me;\nWhich God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,\nI utterly abhor, yea, from my soul\nRefuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more,\nI hold my most malicious foe, and think not\nAt all a friend to truth.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY I do profess\nYou speak not like yourself; who ever yet\nHave stood to charity, and display'd the effects\nOf disposition gentle, and of wisdom\nO'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong:\nI have no spleen against you; nor injustice\nFor you or any: how far I have proceeded,\nOr how far further shall, is warranted\nBy a commission from the consistory,\nYea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me\nThat I have blown this coal: I do deny it:\nThe king is present: if it be known to him\nThat I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,\nAnd worthily, my falsehood! yea, as much\nAs you have done my truth. If he know\nThat I am free of your report, he knows\nI am not of your wrong. Therefore in him\nIt lies to cure me: and the cure is, to\nRemove these thoughts from you: the which before\nHis highness shall speak in, I do beseech\nYou, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking\nAnd to say so no more.\nQUEEN KATHARINE My lord, my lord,\nI am a simple woman, much too weak\nTo oppose your cunning. You're meek and\nhumble-mouth'd;\nYou sign your place and calling, in full seeming,\nWith meekness and humility; but your heart\nIs cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.\nYou have, by fortune and his highness' favours,\nGone slightly o'er low steps and now are mounted\nWhere powers are your retainers, and your words,\nDomestics to you, serve your will as't please\nYourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,\nYou tender more your person's honour than\nYour high profession spiritual: that again\nI do refuse you for my judge; and here,\nBefore you all, appeal unto the pope,\nTo bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,\nAnd to be judged by him.\n[She curtsies to KING HENRY VIII, and offers to depart]\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS The queen is obstinate,\nStubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and\nDisdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well.\nShe's going away.\nKING HENRY VIII Call her again.\nCrier Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.\nGRIFFITH Madam, you are call'd back.\nQUEEN KATHARINE What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:\nWhen you are call'd, return. Now, the Lord help,\nThey vex me past my patience! Pray you, pass on:\nI will not tarry; no, nor ever more\nUpon this business my appearance make\nIn any of their courts.\n[Exeunt QUEEN KATHARINE and her Attendants]\nKING HENRY VIII Go thy ways, Kate:\nThat man i' the world who shall report he has\nA better wife, let him in nought be trusted,\nFor speaking false in that: thou art, alone,\nIf thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,\nThy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,\nObeying in commanding, and thy parts\nSovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,\nThe queen of earthly queens: she's noble born;\nAnd, like her true nobility, she has\nCarried herself towards me.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Most gracious sir,\nIn humblest manner I require your highness,\nThat it shall please you to declare, in hearing\nOf all these ears,--for where I am robb'd and bound,\nThere must I be unloosed, although not there\nAt once and fully satisfied,--whether ever I\nDid broach this business to your highness; or\nLaid any scruple in your way, which might\nInduce you to the question on't? or ever\nHave to you, but with thanks to God for such\nA royal lady, spake one the least word that might\nBe to the prejudice of her present state,\nOr touch of her good person?\nKING HENRY VIII My lord cardinal,\nI do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,\nI free you from't. You are not to be taught\nThat you have many enemies, that know not\nWhy they are so, but, like to village-curs,\nBark when their fellows do: by some of these\nThe queen is put in anger. You're excused:\nBut will you be more justified? You ever\nHave wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desired\nIt to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft,\nThe passages made toward it: on my honour,\nI speak my good lord cardinal to this point,\nAnd thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't,\nI will be bold with time and your attention:\nThen mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't:\nMy conscience first received a tenderness,\nScruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd\nBy the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;\nWho had been hither sent on the debating\nA marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and\nOur daughter Mary: i' the progress of this business,\nEre a determinate resolution, he,\nI mean the bishop, did require a respite;\nWherein he might the king his lord advertise\nWhether our daughter were legitimate,\nRespecting this our marriage with the dowager,\nSometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook\nThe bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,\nYea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble\nThe region of my breast; which forced such way,\nThat many mazed considerings did throng\nAnd press'd in with this caution. First, methought\nI stood not in the smile of heaven; who had\nCommanded nature, that my lady's womb,\nIf it conceived a male child by me, should\nDo no more offices of life to't than\nThe grave does to the dead; for her male issue\nOr died where they were made, or shortly after\nThis world had air'd them: hence I took a thought,\nThis was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,\nWell worthy the best heir o' the world, should not\nBe gladded in't by me: then follows, that\nI weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in\nBy this my issue's fail; and that gave to me\nMany a groaning throe. Thus hulling in\nThe wild sea of my conscience, I did steer\nToward this remedy, whereupon we are\nNow present here together: that's to say,\nI meant to rectify my conscience,--which\nI then did feel full sick, and yet not well,--\nBy all the reverend fathers of the land\nAnd doctors learn'd: first I began in private\nWith you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember\nHow under my oppression I did reek,\nWhen I first moved you.\nLINCOLN Very well, my liege.\nKING HENRY VIII I have spoke long: be pleased yourself to say\nHow far you satisfied me.\nLINCOLN So please your highness,\nThe question did at first so stagger me,\nBearing a state of mighty moment in't\nAnd consequence of dread, that I committed\nThe daring'st counsel which I had to doubt;\nAnd did entreat your highness to this course\nWhich you are running here.\nKING HENRY VIII I then moved you,\nMy Lord of Canterbury; and got your leave\nTo make this present summons: unsolicited\nI left no reverend person in this court;\nBut by particular consent proceeded\nUnder your hands and seals: therefore, go on:\nFor no dislike i' the world against the person\nOf the good queen, but the sharp thorny points\nOf my alleged reasons, drive this forward:\nProve but our marriage lawful, by my life\nAnd kingly dignity, we are contented\nTo wear our mortal state to come with her,\nKatharine our queen, before the primest creature\nThat's paragon'd o' the world.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS So please your highness,\nThe queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness\nThat we adjourn this court till further day:\nMeanwhile must be an earnest motion\nMade to the queen, to call back her appeal\nShe intends unto his holiness.\nKING HENRY VIII [Aside] I may perceive\nThese cardinals trifle with me: I abhor\nThis dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.\nMy learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,\nPrithee, return: with thy approach, I know,\nMy comfort comes along. Break up the court:\nI say, set on.\n[Exeunt in manner as they entered]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT III\nSCENE I London. QUEEN KATHARINE's apartments.\n[Enter QUEEN KATHARINE and her Women, as at work]\nQUEEN KATHARINE Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;\nSing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave working.\n[SONG]\nOrpheus with his lute made trees,\nAnd the mountain tops that freeze,\nBow themselves when he did sing:\nTo his music plants and flowers\nEver sprung; as sun and showers\nThere had made a lasting spring.\nEvery thing that heard him play,\nEven the billows of the sea,\nHung their heads, and then lay by.\nIn sweet music is such art,\nKilling care and grief of heart\nFall asleep, or hearing, die.\n[Enter a Gentleman]\nQUEEN KATHARINE How now!\nGentleman An't please your grace, the two great cardinals\nWait in the presence.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Would they speak with me?\nGentleman They will'd me say so, madam.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Pray their graces\nTo come near.\n[Exit Gentleman]\nWhat can be their business\nWith me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour?\nI do not like their coming. Now I think on't,\nThey should be good men; their affairs as righteous:\nBut all hoods make not monks.\n[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Peace to your highness!\nQUEEN KATHARINE Your graces find me here part of a housewife,\nI would be all, against the worst may happen.\nWhat are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY May it please you noble madam, to withdraw\nInto your private chamber, we shall give you\nThe full cause of our coming.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Speak it here:\nThere's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,\nDeserves a corner: would all other women\nCould speak this with as free a soul as I do!\nMy lords, I care not, so much I am happy\nAbove a number, if my actions\nWere tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em,\nEnvy and base opinion set against 'em,\nI know my life so even. If your business\nSeek me out, and that way I am wife in,\nOut with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina\nserenissima,--\nQUEEN KATHARINE O, good my lord, no Latin;\nI am not such a truant since my coming,\nAs not to know the language I have lived in:\nA strange tongue makes my cause more strange,\nsuspicious;\nPray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,\nIf you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;\nBelieve me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal,\nThe willing'st sin I ever yet committed\nMay be absolved in English.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Noble lady,\nI am sorry my integrity should breed,\nAnd service to his majesty and you,\nSo deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.\nWe come not by the way of accusation,\nTo taint that honour every good tongue blesses,\nNor to betray you any way to sorrow,\nYou have too much, good lady; but to know\nHow you stand minded in the weighty difference\nBetween the king and you; and to deliver,\nLike free and honest men, our just opinions\nAnd comforts to your cause.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Most honour'd madam,\nMy Lord of York, out of his noble nature,\nZeal and obedience he still bore your grace,\nForgetting, like a good man your late censure\nBoth of his truth and him, which was too far,\nOffers, as I do, in a sign of peace,\nHis service and his counsel.\nQUEEN KATHARINE [Aside] To betray me.--\nMy lords, I thank you both for your good wills;\nYe speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so!\nBut how to make ye suddenly an answer,\nIn such a point of weight, so near mine honour,--\nMore near my life, I fear,--with my weak wit,\nAnd to such men of gravity and learning,\nIn truth, I know not. I was set at work\nAmong my maids: full little, God knows, looking\nEither for such men or such business.\nFor her sake that I have been,--for I feel\nThe last fit of my greatness,--good your graces,\nLet me have time and counsel for my cause:\nAlas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears:\nYour hopes and friends are infinite.\nQUEEN KATHARINE In England\nBut little for my profit: can you think, lords,\nThat any Englishman dare give me counsel?\nOr be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,\nThough he be grown so desperate to be honest,\nAnd live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,\nThey that must weigh out my afflictions,\nThey that my trust must grow to, live not here:\nThey are, as all my other comforts, far hence\nIn mine own country, lords.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS I would your grace\nWould leave your griefs, and take my counsel.\nQUEEN KATHARINE How, sir?\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Put your main cause into the king's protection;\nHe's loving and most gracious: 'twill be much\nBoth for your honour better and your cause;\nFor if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,\nYou'll part away disgraced.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY He tells you rightly.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Ye tell me what ye wish for both,--my ruin:\nIs this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!\nHeaven is above all yet; there sits a judge\nThat no king can corrupt.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your rage mistakes us.\nQUEEN KATHARINE The more shame for ye: holy men I thought ye,\nUpon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;\nBut cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye:\nMend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?\nThe cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,\nA woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?\nI will not wish ye half my miseries;\nI have more charity: but say, I warn'd ye;\nTake heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once\nThe burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, this is a mere distraction;\nYou turn the good we offer into envy.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye\nAnd all such false professors! would you have me--\nIf you have any justice, any pity;\nIf ye be any thing but churchmen's habits--\nPut my sick cause into his hands that hates me?\nAlas, has banish'd me his bed already,\nHis love, too long ago! I am old, my lords,\nAnd all the fellowship I hold now with him\nIs only my obedience. What can happen\nTo me above this wretchedness? all your studies\nMake me a curse like this.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your fears are worse.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Have I lived thus long--let me speak myself,\nSince virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one?\nA woman, I dare say without vain-glory,\nNever yet branded with suspicion?\nHave I with all my full affections\nStill met the king? loved him next heaven?\nobey'd him?\nBeen, out of fondness, superstitious to him?\nAlmost forgot my prayers to content him?\nAnd am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.\nBring me a constant woman to her husband,\nOne that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;\nAnd to that woman, when she has done most,\nYet will I add an honour, a great patience.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.\nQUEEN KATHARINE My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,\nTo give up willingly that noble title\nYour master wed me to: nothing but death\nShall e'er divorce my dignities.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Pray, hear me.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Would I had never trod this English earth,\nOr felt the flatteries that grow upon it!\nYe have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.\nWhat will become of me now, wretched lady!\nI am the most unhappy woman living.\nAlas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!\nShipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,\nNo friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me;\nAlmost no grave allow'd me: like the lily,\nThat once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,\nI'll hang my head and perish.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY If your grace\nCould but be brought to know our ends are honest,\nYou'ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,\nUpon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places,\nThe way of our profession is against it:\nWe are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em.\nFor goodness' sake, consider what you do;\nHow you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly\nGrow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.\nThe hearts of princes kiss obedience,\nSo much they love it; but to stubborn spirits\nThey swell, and grow as terrible as storms.\nI know you have a gentle, noble temper,\nA soul as even as a calm: pray, think us\nThose we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.\nCARDINAL CAMPEIUS Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues\nWith these weak women's fears: a noble spirit,\nAs yours was put into you, ever casts\nSuch doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;\nBeware you lose it not: for us, if you please\nTo trust us in your business, we are ready\nTo use our utmost studies in your service.\nQUEEN KATHARINE Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me,\nIf I have used myself unmannerly;\nYou know I am a woman, lacking wit\nTo make a seemly answer to such persons.\nPray, do my service to his majesty:\nHe has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers\nWhile I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,\nBestow your counsels on me: she now begs,\nThat little thought, when she set footing here,\nShe should have bought her dignities so dear.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT III\nSCENE II Ante-chamber to KING HENRY VIII's apartment.\n[Enter NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, SURREY, and Chamberlain]\nNORFOLK If you will now unite in your complaints,\nAnd force them with a constancy, the cardinal\nCannot stand under them: if you omit\nThe offer of this time, I cannot promise\nBut that you shall sustain moe new disgraces,\nWith these you bear already.\nSURREY I am joyful\nTo meet the least occasion that may give me\nRemembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,\nTo be revenged on him.\nSUFFOLK Which of the peers\nHave uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least\nStrangely neglected? when did he regard\nThe stamp of nobleness in any person\nOut of himself?\nChamberlain My lords, you speak your pleasures:\nWhat he deserves of you and me I know;\nWhat we can do to him, though now the time\nGives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot\nBar his access to the king, never attempt\nAny thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft\nOver the king in's tongue.\nNORFOLK O, fear him not;\nHis spell in that is out: the king hath found\nMatter against him that for ever mars\nThe honey of his language. No, he's settled,\nNot to come off, in his displeasure.\nSURREY Sir,\nI should be glad to hear such news as this\nOnce every hour.\nNORFOLK Believe it, this is true:\nIn the divorce his contrary proceedings\nAre all unfolded wherein he appears\nAs I would wish mine enemy.\nSURREY How came\nHis practises to light?\nSUFFOLK Most strangely.\nSURREY O, how, how?\nSUFFOLK The cardinal's letters to the pope miscarried,\nAnd came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read,\nHow that the cardinal did entreat his holiness\nTo stay the judgment o' the divorce; for if\nIt did take place, 'I do,' quoth he, 'perceive\nMy king is tangled in affection to\nA creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'\nSURREY Has the king this?\nSUFFOLK Believe it.\nSURREY Will this work?\nChamberlain The king in this perceives him, how he coasts\nAnd hedges his own way. But in this point\nAll his tricks founder, and he brings his physic\nAfter his patient's death: the king already\nHath married the fair lady.\nSURREY Would he had!\nSUFFOLK May you be happy in your wish, my lord\nFor, I profess, you have it.\nSURREY Now, all my joy\nTrace the conjunction!\nSUFFOLK My amen to't!\nNORFOLK All men's!\nSUFFOLK There's order given for her coronation:\nMarry, this is yet but young, and may be left\nTo some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,\nShe is a gallant creature, and complete\nIn mind and feature: I persuade me, from her\nWill fall some blessing to this land, which shall\nIn it be memorised.\nSURREY But, will the king\nDigest this letter of the cardinal's?\nThe Lord forbid!\nNORFOLK Marry, amen!\nSUFFOLK No, no;\nThere be moe wasps that buzz about his nose\nWill make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius\nIs stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;\nHas left the cause o' the king unhandled; and\nIs posted, as the agent of our cardinal,\nTo second all his plot. I do assure you\nThe king cried Ha! at this.\nChamberlain Now, God incense him,\nAnd let him cry Ha! louder!\nNORFOLK But, my lord,\nWhen returns Cranmer?\nSUFFOLK He is return'd in his opinions; which\nHave satisfied the king for his divorce,\nTogether with all famous colleges\nAlmost in Christendom: shortly, I believe,\nHis second marriage shall be publish'd, and\nHer coronation. Katharine no more\nShall be call'd queen, but princess dowager\nAnd widow to Prince Arthur.\nNORFOLK This same Cranmer's\nA worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain\nIn the king's business.\nSUFFOLK He has; and we shall see him\nFor it an archbishop.\nNORFOLK So I hear.\nSUFFOLK 'Tis so.\nThe cardinal!\n[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CROMWELL]\nNORFOLK Observe, observe, he's moody.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY The packet, Cromwell.\nGave't you the king?\nCROMWELL To his own hand, in's bedchamber.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Look'd he o' the inside of the paper?\nCROMWELL Presently\nHe did unseal them: and the first he view'd,\nHe did it with a serious mind; a heed\nWas in his countenance. You he bade\nAttend him here this morning.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Is he ready\nTo come abroad?\nCROMWELL I think, by this he is.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Leave me awhile.\n[Exit CROMWELL]\n[Aside]\nIt shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,\nThe French king's sister: he shall marry her.\nAnne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:\nThere's more in't than fair visage. Bullen!\nNo, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish\nTo hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!\nNORFOLK He's discontented.\nSUFFOLK May be, he hears the king\nDoes whet his anger to him.\nSURREY Sharp enough,\nLord, for thy justice!\nCARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside] The late queen's gentlewoman,\na knight's daughter,\nTo be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!\nThis candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;\nThen out it goes. What though I know her virtuous\nAnd well deserving? yet I know her for\nA spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to\nOur cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of\nOur hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up\nAn heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one\nHath crawl'd into the favour of the king,\nAnd is his oracle.\nNORFOLK He is vex'd at something.\nSURREY I would 'twere something that would fret the string,\nThe master-cord on's heart!\n[Enter KING HENRY VIII, reading of a schedule, and LOVELL]\nSUFFOLK The king, the king!\nKING HENRY VIII What piles of wealth hath he accumulated\nTo his own portion! and what expense by the hour\nSeems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,\nDoes he rake this together! Now, my lords,\nSaw you the cardinal?\nNORFOLK My lord, we have\nStood here observing him: some strange commotion\nIs in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;\nStops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,\nThen lays his finger on his temple, straight\nSprings out into fast gait; then stops again,\nStrikes his breast hard, and anon he casts\nHis eye against the moon: in most strange postures\nWe have seen him set himself.\nKING HENRY VIII It may well be;\nThere is a mutiny in's mind. This morning\nPapers of state he sent me to peruse,\nAs I required: and wot you what I found\nThere,--on my conscience, put unwittingly?\nForsooth, an inventory, thus importing;\nThe several parcels of his plate, his treasure,\nRich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which\nI find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks\nPossession of a subject.\nNORFOLK It's heaven's will:\nSome spirit put this paper in the packet,\nTo bless your eye withal.\nKING HENRY VIII If we did think\nHis contemplation were above the earth,\nAnd fix'd on spiritual object, he should still\nDwell in his musings: but I am afraid\nHis thinkings are below the moon, not worth\nHis serious considering.\n[King HENRY VIII takes his seat; whispers LOVELL,\nwho goes to CARDINAL WOLSEY]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Heaven forgive me!\nEver God bless your highness!\nKING HENRY VIII Good my lord,\nYou are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory\nOf your best graces in your mind; the which\nYou were now running o'er: you have scarce time\nTo steal from spiritual leisure a brief span\nTo keep your earthly audit: sure, in that\nI deem you an ill husband, and am glad\nTo have you therein my companion.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Sir,\nFor holy offices I have a time; a time\nTo think upon the part of business which\nI bear i' the state; and nature does require\nHer times of preservation, which perforce\nI, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,\nMust give my tendence to.\nKING HENRY VIII You have said well.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY And ever may your highness yoke together,\nAs I will lend you cause, my doing well\nWith my well saying!\nKING HENRY VIII 'Tis well said again;\nAnd 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:\nAnd yet words are no deeds. My father loved you:\nHis said he did; and with his deed did crown\nHis word upon you. Since I had my office,\nI have kept you next my heart; have not alone\nEmploy'd you where high profits might come home,\nBut pared my present havings, to bestow\nMy bounties upon you.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside] What should this mean?\nSURREY [Aside] The Lord increase this business!\nKING HENRY VIII Have I not made you,\nThe prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me,\nIf what I now pronounce you have found true:\nAnd, if you may confess it, say withal,\nIf you are bound to us or no. What say you?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,\nShower'd on me daily, have been more than could\nMy studied purposes requite; which went\nBeyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours\nHave ever come too short of my desires,\nYet filed with my abilities: mine own ends\nHave been mine so that evermore they pointed\nTo the good of your most sacred person and\nThe profit of the state. For your great graces\nHeap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I\nCan nothing render but allegiant thanks,\nMy prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,\nWhich ever has and ever shall be growing,\nTill death, that winter, kill it.\nKING HENRY VIII Fairly answer'd;\nA loyal and obedient subject is\nTherein illustrated: the honour of it\nDoes pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,\nThe foulness is the punishment. I presume\nThat, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,\nMy heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more\nOn you than any; so your hand and heart,\nYour brain, and every function of your power,\nShould, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,\nAs 'twere in love's particular, be more\nTo me, your friend, than any.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY I do profess\nThat for your highness' good I ever labour'd\nMore than mine own; that am, have, and will be--\nThough all the world should crack their duty to you,\nAnd throw it from their soul; though perils did\nAbound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and\nAppear in forms more horrid,--yet my duty,\nAs doth a rock against the chiding flood,\nShould the approach of this wild river break,\nAnd stand unshaken yours.\nKING HENRY VIII 'Tis nobly spoken:\nTake notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,\nFor you have seen him open't. Read o'er this;\n[Giving him papers]\nAnd after, this: and then to breakfast with\nWhat appetite you have.\n[Exit KING HENRY VIII, frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY:\nthe Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY What should this mean?\nWhat sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?\nHe parted frowning from me, as if ruin\nLeap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion\nUpon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;\nThen makes him nothing. I must read this paper;\nI fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so;\nThis paper has undone me: 'tis the account\nOf all that world of wealth I have drawn together\nFor mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,\nAnd fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!\nFit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil\nMade me put this main secret in the packet\nI sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?\nNo new device to beat this from his brains?\nI know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know\nA way, if it take right, in spite of fortune\nWill bring me off again. What's this? 'To the Pope!'\nThe letter, as I live, with all the business\nI writ to's holiness. Nay then, farewell!\nI have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;\nAnd, from that full meridian of my glory,\nI haste now to my setting: I shall fall\nLike a bright exhalation m the evening,\nAnd no man see me more.\n[Re-enter to CARDINAL WOLSEY, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, SURREY,\nand the Chamberlain]\nNORFOLK Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you\nTo render up the great seal presently\nInto our hands; and to confine yourself\nTo Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's,\nTill you hear further from his highness.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Stay:\nWhere's your commission, lords? words cannot carry\nAuthority so weighty.\nSUFFOLK Who dare cross 'em,\nBearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Till I find more than will or words to do it,\nI mean your malice, know, officious lords,\nI dare and must deny it. Now I feel\nOf what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy:\nHow eagerly ye follow my disgraces,\nAs if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton\nYe appear in every thing may bring my ruin!\nFollow your envious courses, men of malice;\nYou have Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,\nIn time will find their fit rewards. That seal,\nYou ask with such a violence, the king,\nMine and your master, with his own hand gave me;\nBade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,\nDuring my life; and, to confirm his goodness,\nTied it by letters-patents: now, who'll take it?\nSURREY The king, that gave it.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY It must be himself, then.\nSURREY Thou art a proud traitor, priest.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Proud lord, thou liest:\nWithin these forty hours Surrey durst better\nHave burnt that tongue than said so.\nSURREY Thy ambition,\nThou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land\nOf noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:\nThe heads of all thy brother cardinals,\nWith thee and all thy best parts bound together,\nWeigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!\nYou sent me deputy for Ireland;\nFar from his succor, from the king, from all\nThat might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him;\nWhilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,\nAbsolved him with an axe.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY This, and all else\nThis talking lord can lay upon my credit,\nI answer is most false. The duke by law\nFound his deserts: how innocent I was\nFrom any private malice in his end,\nHis noble jury and foul cause can witness.\nIf I loved many words, lord, I should tell you\nYou have as little honesty as honour,\nThat in the way of loyalty and truth\nToward the king, my ever royal master,\nDare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,\nAnd all that love his follies.\nSURREY By my soul,\nYour long coat, priest, protects you; thou\nshouldst feel\nMy sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords,\nCan ye endure to hear this arrogance?\nAnd from this fellow? if we live thus tamely,\nTo be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,\nFarewell nobility; let his grace go forward,\nAnd dare us with his cap like larks.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY All goodness\nIs poison to thy stomach.\nSURREY Yes, that goodness\nOf gleaning all the land's wealth into one,\nInto your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;\nThe goodness of your intercepted packets\nYou writ to the pope against the king: your goodness,\nSince you provoke me, shall be most notorious.\nMy Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,\nAs you respect the common good, the state\nOf our despised nobility, our issues,\nWho, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,\nProduce the grand sum of his sins, the articles\nCollected from his life. I'll startle you\nWorse than the scaring bell, when the brown wench\nLay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY How much, methinks, I could despise this man,\nBut that I am bound in charity against it!\nNORFOLK Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand:\nBut, thus much, they are foul ones.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY So much fairer\nAnd spotless shall mine innocence arise,\nWhen the king knows my truth.\nSURREY This cannot save you:\nI thank my memory, I yet remember\nSome of these articles; and out they shall.\nNow, if you can blush and cry 'guilty,' cardinal,\nYou'll show a little honesty.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Speak on, sir;\nI dare your worst objections: if I blush,\nIt is to see a nobleman want manners.\nSURREY I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!\nFirst, that, without the king's assent or knowledge,\nYou wrought to be a legate; by which power\nYou maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.\nNORFOLK Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else\nTo foreign princes, 'Ego et Rex meus'\nWas still inscribed; in which you brought the king\nTo be your servant.\nSUFFOLK Then that, without the knowledge\nEither of king or council, when you went\nAmbassador to the emperor, you made bold\nTo carry into Flanders the great seal.\nSURREY Item, you sent a large commission\nTo Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,\nWithout the king's will or the state's allowance,\nA league between his highness and Ferrara.\nSUFFOLK That, out of mere ambition, you have caused\nYour holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.\nSURREY Then that you have sent innumerable substance--\nBy what means got, I leave to your own conscience--\nTo furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways\nYou have for dignities; to the mere undoing\nOf all the kingdom. Many more there are;\nWhich, since they are of you, and odious,\nI will not taint my mouth with.\nChamberlain O my lord,\nPress not a falling man too far! 'tis virtue:\nHis faults lie open to the laws; let them,\nNot you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him\nSo little of his great self.\nSURREY I forgive him.\nSUFFOLK Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,\nBecause all those things you have done of late,\nBy your power legatine, within this kingdom,\nFall into the compass of a praemunire,\nThat therefore such a writ be sued against you;\nTo forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,\nChattels, and whatsoever, and to be\nOut of the king's protection. This is my charge.\nNORFOLK And so we'll leave you to your meditations\nHow to live better. For your stubborn answer\nAbout the giving back the great seal to us,\nThe king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.\nSo fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.\n[Exeunt all but CARDINAL WOLSEY]\nCARDINAL WOLSEY So farewell to the little good you bear me.\nFarewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!\nThis is the state of man: to-day he puts forth\nThe tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,\nAnd bears his blushing honours thick upon him;\nThe third day comes a frost, a killing frost,\nAnd, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely\nHis greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,\nAnd then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,\nLike little wanton boys that swim on bladders,\nThis many summers in a sea of glory,\nBut far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride\nAt length broke under me and now has left me,\nWeary and old with service, to the mercy\nOf a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.\nVain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:\nI feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched\nIs that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!\nThere is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,\nThat sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,\nMore pangs and fears than wars or women have:\nAnd when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,\nNever to hope again.\n[Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed]\nWhy, how now, Cromwell!\nCROMWELL I have no power to speak, sir.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY What, amazed\nAt my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder\nA great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,\nI am fall'n indeed.\nCROMWELL How does your grace?\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Why, well;\nNever so truly happy, my good Cromwell.\nI know myself now; and I feel within me\nA peace above all earthly dignities,\nA still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,\nI humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,\nThese ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken\nA load would sink a navy, too much honour:\nO, 'tis a burthen, Cromwell, 'tis a burthen\nToo heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!\nCROMWELL I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,\nOut of a fortitude of soul I feel,\nTo endure more miseries and greater far\nThan my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.\nWhat news abroad?\nCROMWELL The heaviest and the worst\nIs your displeasure with the king.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY God bless him!\nCROMWELL The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen\nLord chancellor in your place.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY That's somewhat sudden:\nBut he's a learned man. May he continue\nLong in his highness' favour, and do justice\nFor truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones,\nWhen he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,\nMay have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on em! What more?\nCROMWELL That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,\nInstall'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY That's news indeed.\nCROMWELL Last, that the Lady Anne,\nWhom the king hath in secrecy long married,\nThis day was view'd in open as his queen,\nGoing to chapel; and the voice is now\nOnly about her coronation.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell,\nThe king has gone beyond me: all my glories\nIn that one woman I have lost for ever:\nNo sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,\nOr gild again the noble troops that waited\nUpon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;\nI am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now\nTo be thy lord and master: seek the king;\nThat sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him\nWhat and how true thou art: he will advance thee;\nSome little memory of me will stir him--\nI know his noble nature--not to let\nThy hopeful service perish too: good Cromwell,\nNeglect him not; make use now, and provide\nFor thine own future safety.\nCROMWELL O my lord,\nMust I, then, leave you? must I needs forego\nSo good, so noble and so true a master?\nBear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,\nWith what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.\nThe king shall have my service: but my prayers\nFor ever and for ever shall be yours.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear\nIn all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,\nOut of thy honest truth, to play the woman.\nLet's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;\nAnd, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,\nAnd sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention\nOf me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee,\nSay, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,\nAnd sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,\nFound thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;\nA sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.\nMark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.\nCromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:\nBy that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,\nThe image of his Maker, hope to win by it?\nLove thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;\nCorruption wins not more than honesty.\nStill in thy right hand carry gentle peace,\nTo silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:\nLet all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,\nThy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st,\nO Cromwell,\nThou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king;\nAnd,--prithee, lead me in:\nThere take an inventory of all I have,\nTo the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,\nAnd my integrity to heaven, is all\nI dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!\nHad I but served my God with half the zeal\nI served my king, he would not in mine age\nHave left me naked to mine enemies.\nCROMWELL Good sir, have patience.\nCARDINAL WOLSEY So I have. Farewell\nThe hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT IV\nSCENE I A street in Westminster.\n[Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another]\nFirst Gentleman You're well met once again.\nSecond Gentleman So are you.\nFirst Gentleman You come to take your stand here, and behold\nThe Lady Anne pass from her coronation?\nSecond Gentleman 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter,\nThe Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.\nFirst Gentleman 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow;\nThis, general joy.\nSecond Gentleman 'Tis well: the citizens,\nI am sure, have shown at full their royal minds--\nAs, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward--\nIn celebration of this day with shows,\nPageants and sights of honour.\nFirst Gentleman Never greater,\nNor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.\nSecond Gentleman May I be bold to ask at what that contains,\nThat paper in your hand?\nFirst Gentleman Yes; 'tis the list\nOf those that claim their offices this day\nBy custom of the coronation.\nThe Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims\nTo be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,\nHe to be earl marshal: you may read the rest.\nSecond Gentleman I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs,\nI should have been beholding to your paper.\nBut, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,\nThe princess dowager? how goes her business?\nFirst Gentleman That I can tell you too. The Archbishop\nOf Canterbury, accompanied with other\nLearned and reverend fathers of his order,\nHeld a late court at Dunstable, six miles off\nFrom Ampthill where the princess lay; to which\nShe was often cited by them, but appear'd not:\nAnd, to be short, for not appearance and\nThe king's late scruple, by the main assent\nOf all these learned men she was divorced,\nAnd the late marriage made of none effect\nSince which she was removed to Kimbolton,\nWhere she remains now sick.\nSecond Gentleman Alas, good lady!\n[Trumpets]\nThe trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.\n[Hautboys]\n[THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION]\n1. A lively flourish of Trumpets.\n2. Then, two Judges.\n3. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace\nbefore him.\n4. Choristers, singing.\n[Music]\n5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then\nGarter, in his coat of arms, and on his\nhead a gilt copper crown.\n6. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold,\non his head a demi-coronal of gold. With\nhim, SURREY, bearing the rod of silver with\nthe dove, crowned with an earl's coronet.\nCollars of SS.\n7. SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet\non his head, bearing a long white wand, as\nhigh-steward. With him, NORFOLK, with the\nrod of marshalship, a coronet on his head.\nCollars of SS.\n8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports;\nunder it, QUEEN ANNE in her robe; in her hair\nrichly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each\nside her, the Bishops of London and\nWinchester.\n9. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of\ngold, wrought with flowers, bearing QUEEN\nANNE's train.\n10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain\ncirclets of gold without flowers.\n[They pass over the stage in order and state]\nSecond Gentleman A royal train, believe me. These I know:\nWho's that that bears the sceptre?\nFirst Gentleman Marquess Dorset:\nAnd that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.\nSecond Gentleman A bold brave gentleman. That should be\nThe Duke of Suffolk?\nFirst Gentleman 'Tis the same: high-steward.\nSecond Gentleman And that my Lord of Norfolk?\nFirst Gentleman Yes;\nSecond Gentleman Heaven bless thee!\n[Looking on QUEEN ANNE]\nThou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.\nSir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;\nOur king has all the Indies in his arms,\nAnd more and richer, when he strains that lady:\nI cannot blame his conscience.\nFirst Gentleman They that bear\nThe cloth of honour over her, are four barons\nOf the Cinque-ports.\nSecond Gentleman Those men are happy; and so are all are near her.\nI take it, she that carries up the train\nIs that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.\nFirst Gentleman It is; and all the rest are countesses.\nSecond Gentleman Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;\nAnd sometimes falling ones.\nFirst Gentleman No more of that.\n[Exit procession, and then a great flourish of trumpets]\n[Enter a third Gentleman]\nFirst Gentleman God save you, sir! where have you been broiling?\nThird Gentleman Among the crowd i' the Abbey; where a finger\nCould not be wedged in more: I am stifled\nWith the mere rankness of their joy.\nSecond Gentleman You saw\nThe ceremony?\nThird Gentleman That I did.\nFirst Gentleman How was it?\nThird Gentleman Well worth the seeing.\nSecond Gentleman Good sir, speak it to us.\nThird Gentleman As well as I am able. The rich stream\nOf lords and ladies, having brought the queen\nTo a prepared place in the choir, fell off\nA distance from her; while her grace sat down\nTo rest awhile, some half an hour or so,\nIn a rich chair of state, opposing freely\nThe beauty of her person to the people.\nBelieve me, sir, she is the goodliest woman\nThat ever lay by man: which when the people\nHad the full view of, such a noise arose\nAs the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,\nAs loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks--\nDoublets, I think,--flew up; and had their faces\nBeen loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy\nI never saw before. Great-bellied women,\nThat had not half a week to go, like rams\nIn the old time of war, would shake the press,\nAnd make 'em reel before 'em. No man living\nCould say 'This is my wife' there; all were woven\nSo strangely in one piece.\nSecond Gentleman But, what follow'd?\nThird Gentleman At length her grace rose, and with modest paces\nCame to the altar; where she kneel'd, and saint-like\nCast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly.\nThen rose again and bow'd her to the people:\nWhen by the Archbishop of Canterbury\nShe had all the royal makings of a queen;\nAs holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,\nThe rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems\nLaid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,\nWith all the choicest music of the kingdom,\nTogether sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted,\nAnd with the same full state paced back again\nTo York-place, where the feast is held.\nFirst Gentleman Sir,\nYou must no more call it York-place, that's past;\nFor, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost:\n'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.\nThird Gentleman I know it;\nBut 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name\nIs fresh about me.\nSecond Gentleman What two reverend bishops\nWere those that went on each side of the queen?\nThird Gentleman Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,\nNewly preferr'd from the king's secretary,\nThe other, London.\nSecond Gentleman He of Winchester\nIs held no great good lover of the archbishop's,\nThe virtuous Cranmer.\nThird Gentleman All the land knows that:\nHowever, yet there is no great breach; when it comes,\nCranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.\nSecond Gentleman Who may that be, I pray you?\nThird Gentleman Thomas Cromwell;\nA man in much esteem with the king, and truly\nA worthy friend. The king has made him master\nO' the jewel house,\nAnd one, already, of the privy council.\nSecond Gentleman He will deserve more.\nThird Gentleman Yes, without all doubt.\nCome, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which\nIs to the court, and there ye shall be my guests:\nSomething I can command. As I walk thither,\nI'll tell ye more.\nBoth You may command us, sir.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT IV\nSCENE II Kimbolton.\n[Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between\nGRIFFITH, her gentleman usher, and PATIENCE, her woman]\nGRIFFITH How does your grace?\nKATHARINE O Griffith, sick to death!\nMy legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,\nWilling to leave their burthen. Reach a chair:\nSo; now, methinks, I feel a little ease.\nDidst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,\nThat the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?\nGRIFFITH Yes, madam; but I think your grace,\nOut of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.\nKATHARINE Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:\nIf well, he stepp'd before me, happily\nFor my example.\nGRIFFITH Well, the voice goes, madam:\nFor after the stout Earl Northumberland\nArrested him at York, and brought him forward,\nAs a man sorely tainted, to his answer,\nHe fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill\nHe could not sit his mule.\nKATHARINE Alas, poor man!\nGRIFFITH At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,\nLodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,\nWith all his covent, honourably received him;\nTo whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,\nAn old man, broken with the storms of state,\nIs come to lay his weary bones among ye;\nGive him a little earth for charity!'\nSo went to bed; where eagerly his sickness\nPursued him still: and, three nights after this,\nAbout the hour of eight, which he himself\nForetold should be his last, full of repentance,\nContinual meditations, tears, and sorrows,\nHe gave his honours to the world again,\nHis blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.\nKATHARINE So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!\nYet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,\nAnd yet with charity. He was a man\nOf an unbounded stomach, ever ranking\nHimself with princes; one that, by suggestion,\nTied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play;\nHis own opinion was his law: i' the presence\nHe would say untruths; and be ever double\nBoth in his words and meaning: he was never,\nBut where he meant to ruin, pitiful:\nHis promises were, as he then was, mighty;\nBut his performance, as he is now, nothing:\nOf his own body he was ill, and gave\nThe clergy in example.\nGRIFFITH Noble madam,\nMen's evil manners live in brass; their virtues\nWe write in water. May it please your highness\nTo hear me speak his good now?\nKATHARINE Yes, good Griffith;\nI were malicious else.\nGRIFFITH This cardinal,\nThough from an humble stock, undoubtedly\nWas fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.\nHe was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;\nExceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:\nLofty and sour to them that loved him not;\nBut to those men that sought him sweet as summer.\nAnd though he were unsatisfied in getting,\nWhich was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,\nHe was most princely: ever witness for him\nThose twins Of learning that he raised in you,\nIpswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,\nUnwilling to outlive the good that did it;\nThe other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,\nSo excellent in art, and still so rising,\nThat Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.\nHis overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;\nFor then, and not till then, he felt himself,\nAnd found the blessedness of being little:\nAnd, to add greater honours to his age\nThan man could give him, he died fearing God.\nKATHARINE After my death I wish no other herald,\nNo other speaker of my living actions,\nTo keep mine honour from corruption,\nBut such an honest chronicler as Griffith.\nWhom I most hated living, thou hast made me,\nWith thy religious truth and modesty,\nNow in his ashes honour: peace be with him!\nPatience, be near me still; and set me lower:\nI have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,\nCause the musicians play me that sad note\nI named my knell, whilst I sit meditating\nOn that celestial harmony I go to.\n[Sad and solemn music]\nGRIFFITH She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,\nFor fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.\n[The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after\nanother, six personages, clad in white robes,\nwearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden\nvizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in\ntheir hands. They first congee unto her, then\ndance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold\na spare garland over her head; at which the other\nfour make reverent curtsies; then the two that held\nthe garland deliver the same to the other next two,\nwho observe the same order in their changes, and\nholding the garland over her head: which done,\nthey deliver the same garland to the last two, who\nlikewise observe the same order: at which, as it\nwere by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs\nof rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven:\nand so in their dancing vanish, carrying the\ngarland with them. The music continues]\nKATHARINE Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone,\nAnd leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?\nGRIFFITH Madam, we are here.\nKATHARINE It is not you I call for:\nSaw ye none enter since I slept?\nGRIFFITH None, madam.\nKATHARINE No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop\nInvite me to a banquet; whose bright faces\nCast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?\nThey promised me eternal happiness;\nAnd brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel\nI am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly.\nGRIFFITH I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams\nPossess your fancy.\nKATHARINE Bid the music leave,\nThey are harsh and heavy to me.\n[Music ceases]\nPATIENCE Do you note\nHow much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?\nHow long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,\nAnd of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes!\nGRIFFITH She is going, wench: pray, pray.\nPATIENCE Heaven comfort her!\n[Enter a Messenger]\nMessenger An't like your grace,--\nKATHARINE You are a saucy fellow:\nDeserve we no more reverence?\nGRIFFITH You are to blame,\nKnowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,\nTo use so rude behavior; go to, kneel.\nMessenger I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;\nMy haste made me unmannerly. There is staying\nA gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.\nKATHARINE Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow\nLet me ne'er see again.\n[Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger]\n[Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS]\nIf my sight fail not,\nYou should be lord ambassador from the emperor,\nMy royal nephew, and your name Capucius.\nCAPUCIUS Madam, the same; your servant.\nKATHARINE O, my lord,\nThe times and titles now are alter'd strangely\nWith me since first you knew me. But, I pray you,\nWhat is your pleasure with me?\nCAPUCIUS Noble lady,\nFirst mine own service to your grace; the next,\nThe king's request that I would visit you;\nWho grieves much for your weakness, and by me\nSends you his princely commendations,\nAnd heartily entreats you take good comfort.\nKATHARINE O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;\n'Tis like a pardon after execution:\nThat gentle physic, given in time, had cured me;\nBut now I am past an comforts here, but prayers.\nHow does his highness?\nCAPUCIUS Madam, in good health.\nKATHARINE So may he ever do! and ever flourish,\nWhen I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name\nBanish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,\nI caused you write, yet sent away?\nPATIENCE No, madam.\n[Giving it to KATHARINE]\nKATHARINE Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver\nThis to my lord the king.\nCAPUCIUS Most willing, madam.\nKATHARINE In which I have commended to his goodness\nThe model of our chaste loves, his young daughter;\nThe dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!\nBeseeching him to give her virtuous breeding--\nShe is young, and of a noble modest nature,\nI hope she will deserve well,--and a little\nTo love her for her mother's sake, that loved him,\nHeaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition\nIs, that his noble grace would have some pity\nUpon my wretched women, that so long\nHave follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:\nOf which there is not one, I dare avow,\nAnd now I should not lie, but will deserve\nFor virtue and true beauty of the soul,\nFor honesty and decent carriage,\nA right good husband, let him be a noble\nAnd, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.\nThe last is, for my men; they are the poorest,\nBut poverty could never draw 'em from me;\nThat they may have their wages duly paid 'em,\nAnd something over to remember me by:\nIf heaven had pleased to have given me longer life\nAnd able means, we had not parted thus.\nThese are the whole contents: and, good my lord,\nBy that you love the dearest in this world,\nAs you wish Christian peace to souls departed,\nStand these poor people's friend, and urge the king\nTo do me this last right.\nCAPUCIUS By heaven, I will,\nOr let me lose the fashion of a man!\nKATHARINE I thank you, honest lord. Remember me\nIn all humility unto his highness:\nSay his long trouble now is passing\nOut of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,\nFor so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,\nMy lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,\nYou must not leave me yet: I must to bed;\nCall in more women. When I am dead, good wench,\nLet me be used with honour: strew me over\nWith maiden flowers, that all the world may know\nI was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,\nThen lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like\nA queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.\nI can no more.\n[Exeunt, leading KATHARINE]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT V\nSCENE I London. A gallery in the palace.\n[Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a\ntorch before him, met by LOVELL]\nGARDINER It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?\nBoy It hath struck.\nGARDINER These should be hours for necessities,\nNot for delights; times to repair our nature\nWith comforting repose, and not for us\nTo waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!\nWhither so late?\nLOVELL Came you from the king, my lord\nGARDINER I did, Sir Thomas: and left him at primero\nWith the Duke of Suffolk.\nLOVELL I must to him too,\nBefore he go to bed. I'll take my leave.\nGARDINER Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?\nIt seems you are in haste: an if there be\nNo great offence belongs to't, give your friend\nSome touch of your late business: affairs, that walk,\nAs they say spirits do, at midnight, have\nIn them a wilder nature than the business\nThat seeks dispatch by day.\nLOVELL My lord, I love you;\nAnd durst commend a secret to your ear\nMuch weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,\nThey say, in great extremity; and fear'd\nShe'll with the labour end.\nGARDINER The fruit she goes with\nI pray for heartily, that it may find\nGood time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas,\nI wish it grubb'd up now.\nLOVELL Methinks I could\nCry the amen; and yet my conscience says\nShe's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does\nDeserve our better wishes.\nGARDINER But, sir, sir,\nHear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman\nOf mine own way; I know you wise, religious;\nAnd, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,\n'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,\nTill Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,\nSleep in their graves.\nLOVELL Now, sir, you speak of two\nThe most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,\nBeside that of the jewel house, is made master\nO' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,\nStands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,\nWith which the time will load him. The archbishop\nIs the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak\nOne syllable against him?\nGARDINER Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,\nThere are that dare; and I myself have ventured\nTo speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,\nSir, I may tell it you, I think I have\nIncensed the lords o' the council, that he is,\nFor so I know he is, they know he is,\nA most arch heretic, a pestilence\nThat does infect the land: with which they moved\nHave broken with the king; who hath so far\nGiven ear to our complaint, of his great grace\nAnd princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs\nOur reasons laid before him, hath commanded\nTo-morrow morning to the council-board\nHe be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,\nAnd we must root him out. From your affairs\nI hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.\nLOVELL Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant.\n[Exeunt GARDINER and Page]\n[Enter KING HENRY VIII and SUFFOLK]\nKING HENRY VIII Charles, I will play no more tonight;\nMy mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.\nSUFFOLK Sir, I did never win of you before.\nKING HENRY VIII But little, Charles;\nNor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.\nNow, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?\nLOVELL I could not personally deliver to her\nWhat you commanded me, but by her woman\nI sent your message; who return'd her thanks\nIn the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness\nMost heartily to pray for her.\nKING HENRY VIII What say'st thou, ha?\nTo pray for her? what, is she crying out?\nLOVELL So said her woman; and that her sufferance made\nAlmost each pang a death.\nKING HENRY VIII Alas, good lady!\nSUFFOLK God safely quit her of her burthen, and\nWith gentle travail, to the gladding of\nYour highness with an heir!\nKING HENRY VIII 'Tis midnight, Charles;\nPrithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember\nThe estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;\nFor I must think of that which company\nWould not be friendly to.\nSUFFOLK I wish your highness\nA quiet night; and my good mistress will\nRemember in my prayers.\nKING HENRY VIII Charles, good night.\n[Exit SUFFOLK]\n[Enter DENNY]\nWell, sir, what follows?\nDENNY Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,\nAs you commanded me.\nKING HENRY VIII Ha! Canterbury?\nDENNY Ay, my good lord.\nKING HENRY VIII 'Tis true: where is he, Denny?\nDENNY He attends your highness' pleasure.\n[Exit DENNY]\nLOVELL [Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake:\nI am happily come hither.\n[Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER]\nKING HENRY VIII Avoid the gallery.\n[LOVELL seems to stay]\nHa! I have said. Be gone. What!\n[Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY]\nCRANMER [Aside]\nI am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus?\n'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.\nKING HENRY VIII How now, my lord! you desire to know\nWherefore I sent for you.\nCRANMER [Kneeling] It is my duty\nTo attend your highness' pleasure.\nKING HENRY VIII Pray you, arise,\nMy good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.\nCome, you and I must walk a turn together;\nI have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand.\nAh, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,\nAnd am right sorry to repeat what follows\nI have, and most unwillingly, of late\nHeard many grievous, I do say, my lord,\nGrievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,\nHave moved us and our council, that you shall\nThis morning come before us; where, I know,\nYou cannot with such freedom purge yourself,\nBut that, till further trial in those charges\nWhich will require your answer, you must take\nYour patience to you, and be well contented\nTo make your house our Tower: you a brother of us,\nIt fits we thus proceed, or else no witness\nWould come against you.\nCRANMER [Kneeling]\nI humbly thank your highness;\nAnd am right glad to catch this good occasion\nMost throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff\nAnd corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,\nThere's none stands under more calumnious tongues\nThan I myself, poor man.\nKING HENRY VIII Stand up, good Canterbury:\nThy truth and thy integrity is rooted\nIn us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up:\nPrithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame.\nWhat manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd\nYou would have given me your petition, that\nI should have ta'en some pains to bring together\nYourself and your accusers; and to have heard you,\nWithout indurance, further.\nCRANMER Most dread liege,\nThe good I stand on is my truth and honesty:\nIf they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,\nWill triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,\nBeing of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing\nWhat can be said against me.\nKING HENRY VIII Know you not\nHow your state stands i' the world, with the whole world?\nYour enemies are many, and not small; their practises\nMust bear the same proportion; and not ever\nThe justice and the truth o' the question carries\nThe due o' the verdict with it: at what ease\nMight corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt\nTo swear against you? such things have been done.\nYou are potently opposed; and with a malice\nOf as great size. Ween you of better luck,\nI mean, in perjured witness, than your master,\nWhose minister you are, whiles here he lived\nUpon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;\nYou take a precipice for no leap of danger,\nAnd woo your own destruction.\nCRANMER God and your majesty\nProtect mine innocence, or I fall into\nThe trap is laid for me!\nKING HENRY VIII Be of good cheer;\nThey shall no more prevail than we give way to.\nKeep comfort to you; and this morning see\nYou do appear before them: if they shall chance,\nIn charging you with matters, to commit you,\nThe best persuasions to the contrary\nFail not to use, and with what vehemency\nThe occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties\nWill render you no remedy, this ring\nDeliver them, and your appeal to us\nThere make before them. Look, the good man weeps!\nHe's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!\nI swear he is true--hearted; and a soul\nNone better in my kingdom. Get you gone,\nAnd do as I have bid you.\n[Exit CRANMER]\nHe has strangled\nHis language in his tears.\n[Enter Old Lady, LOVELL following]\nGentleman [Within] Come back: what mean you?\nOld Lady I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring\nWill make my boldness manners. Now, good angels\nFly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person\nUnder their blessed wings!\nKING HENRY VIII Now, by thy looks\nI guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?\nSay, ay; and of a boy.\nOld Lady Ay, ay, my liege;\nAnd of a lovely boy: the God of heaven\nBoth now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl,\nPromises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen\nDesires your visitation, and to be\nAcquainted with this stranger 'tis as like you\nAs cherry is to cherry.\nKING HENRY VIII Lovell!\nLOVELL Sir?\nKING HENRY VIII Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen.\n[Exit]\nOld Lady An hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more.\nAn ordinary groom is for such payment.\nI will have more, or scold it out of him.\nSaid I for this, the girl was like to him?\nI will have more, or else unsay't; and now,\nWhile it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT V\nSCENE II Before the council-chamber. Pursuivants, Pages, &c.\nattending.\n[Enter CRANMER]\nCRANMER I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,\nThat was sent to me from the council, pray'd me\nTo make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho!\nWho waits there? Sure, you know me?\n[Enter Keeper]\nKeeper Yes, my lord;\nBut yet I cannot help you.\nCRANMER Why?\n[Enter DOCTOR BUTTS]\nKeeper Your grace must wait till you be call'd for.\nCRANMER So.\nDOCTOR BUTTS [Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad\nI came this way so happily: the king\nShall understand it presently.\n[Exit]\nCRANMER [Aside] 'Tis Butts,\nThe king's physician: as he pass'd along,\nHow earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!\nPray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,\nThis is of purpose laid by some that hate me--\nGod turn their hearts! I never sought their malice--\nTo quench mine honour: they would shame to make me\nWait else at door, a fellow-counsellor,\n'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures\nMust be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.\n[Enter the KING HENRY VIII and DOCTOR BUTTS at a window above]\nDOCTOR BUTTS I'll show your grace the strangest sight--\nKING HENRY VIII What's that, Butts?\nDOCTOR BUTTS I think your highness saw this many a day.\nKING HENRY VIII Body o' me, where is it?\nDOCTOR BUTTS There, my lord:\nThe high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;\nWho holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,\nPages, and footboys.\nKING HENRY VIII Ha! 'tis he, indeed:\nIs this the honour they do one another?\n'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought\nThey had parted so much honesty among 'em\nAt least, good manners, as not thus to suffer\nA man of his place, and so near our favour,\nTo dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,\nAnd at the door too, like a post with packets.\nBy holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:\nLet 'em alone, and draw the curtain close:\nWe shall hear more anon.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT V\nSCENE III The Council-Chamber.\n[Enter Chancellor; places himself at the upper end\nof the table on the left hand; a seat being left\nvoid above him, as for CRANMER's seat. SUFFOLK,\nNORFOLK, SURREY, Chamberlain, GARDINER, seat\nthemselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at\nlower end, as secretary. Keeper at the door]\nChancellor Speak to the business, master-secretary:\nWhy are we met in council?\nCROMWELL Please your honours,\nThe chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.\nGARDINER Has he had knowledge of it?\nCROMWELL Yes.\nNORFOLK Who waits there?\nKeeper Without, my noble lords?\nGARDINER Yes.\nKeeper My lord archbishop;\nAnd has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.\nChancellor Let him come in.\nKeeper Your grace may enter now.\n[CRANMER enters and approaches the council-table]\nChancellor My good lord archbishop, I'm very sorry\nTo sit here at this present, and behold\nThat chair stand empty: but we all are men,\nIn our own natures frail, and capable\nOf our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailty\nAnd want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,\nHave misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,\nToward the king first, then his laws, in filling\nThe whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains,\nFor so we are inform'd, with new opinions,\nDivers and dangerous; which are heresies,\nAnd, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.\nGARDINER Which reformation must be sudden too,\nMy noble lords; for those that tame wild horses\nPace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,\nBut stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em,\nTill they obey the manage. If we suffer,\nOut of our easiness and childish pity\nTo one man's honour, this contagious sickness,\nFarewell all physic: and what follows then?\nCommotions, uproars, with a general taint\nOf the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,\nThe upper Germany, can dearly witness,\nYet freshly pitied in our memories.\nCRANMER My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress\nBoth of my life and office, I have labour'd,\nAnd with no little study, that my teaching\nAnd the strong course of my authority\nMight go one way, and safely; and the end\nWas ever, to do well: nor is there living,\nI speak it with a single heart, my lords,\nA man that more detests, more stirs against,\nBoth in his private conscience and his place,\nDefacers of a public peace, than I do.\nPray heaven, the king may never find a heart\nWith less allegiance in it! Men that make\nEnvy and crooked malice nourishment\nDare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,\nThat, in this case of justice, my accusers,\nBe what they will, may stand forth face to face,\nAnd freely urge against me.\nSUFFOLK Nay, my lord,\nThat cannot be: you are a counsellor,\nAnd, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.\nGARDINER My lord, because we have business of more moment,\nWe will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,\nAnd our consent, for better trial of you,\nFrom hence you be committed to the Tower;\nWhere, being but a private man again,\nYou shall know many dare accuse you boldly,\nMore than, I fear, you are provided for.\nCRANMER Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;\nYou are always my good friend; if your will pass,\nI shall both find your lordship judge and juror,\nYou are so merciful: I see your end;\n'Tis my undoing: love and meekness, lord,\nBecome a churchman better than ambition:\nWin straying souls with modesty again,\nCast none away. That I shall clear myself,\nLay all the weight ye can upon my patience,\nI make as little doubt, as you do conscience\nIn doing daily wrongs. I could say more,\nBut reverence to your calling makes me modest.\nGARDINER My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,\nThat's the plain truth: your painted gloss discovers,\nTo men that understand you, words and weakness.\nCROMWELL My Lord of Winchester, you are a little,\nBy your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,\nHowever faulty, yet should find respect\nFor what they have been: 'tis a cruelty\nTo load a falling man.\nGARDINER Good master secretary,\nI cry your honour mercy; you may, worst\nOf all this table, say so.\nCROMWELL Why, my lord?\nGARDINER Do not I know you for a favourer\nOf this new sect? ye are not sound.\nCROMWELL Not sound?\nGARDINER Not sound, I say.\nCROMWELL Would you were half so honest!\nMen's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.\nGARDINER I shall remember this bold language.\nCROMWELL Do.\nRemember your bold life too.\nChancellor This is too much;\nForbear, for shame, my lords.\nGARDINER I have done.\nCROMWELL And I.\nChancellor Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,\nI take it, by all voices, that forthwith\nYou be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;\nThere to remain till the king's further pleasure\nBe known unto us: are you all agreed, lords?\nAll We are.\nCRANMER Is there no other way of mercy,\nBut I must needs to the Tower, my lords?\nGARDINER What other\nWould you expect? you are strangely troublesome.\nLet some o' the guard be ready there.\n[Enter Guard]\nCRANMER For me?\nMust I go like a traitor thither?\nGARDINER Receive him,\nAnd see him safe i' the Tower.\nCRANMER Stay, good my lords,\nI have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;\nBy virtue of that ring, I take my cause\nOut of the gripes of cruel men, and give it\nTo a most noble judge, the king my master.\nChamberlain This is the king's ring.\nSURREY 'Tis no counterfeit.\nSUFFOLK 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all,\nWhen ye first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,\n'Twould fall upon ourselves.\nNORFOLK Do you think, my lords,\nThe king will suffer but the little finger\nOf this man to be vex'd?\nChancellor 'Tis now too certain:\nHow much more is his life in value with him?\nWould I were fairly out on't!\nCROMWELL My mind gave me,\nIn seeking tales and informations\nAgainst this man, whose honesty the devil\nAnd his disciples only envy at,\nYe blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye!\n[Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his seat]\nGARDINER Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven\nIn daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;\nNot only good and wise, but most religious:\nOne that, in all obedience, makes the church\nThe chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen\nThat holy duty, out of dear respect,\nHis royal self in judgment comes to hear\nThe cause betwixt her and this great offender.\nKING HENRY VIII You were ever good at sudden commendations,\nBishop of Winchester. But know, I come not\nTo hear such flattery now, and in my presence;\nThey are too thin and bare to hide offences.\nTo me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,\nAnd think with wagging of your tongue to win me;\nBut, whatsoe'er thou takest me for, I'm sure\nThou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.\n[To CRANMER]\nGood man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest\nHe, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:\nBy all that's holy, he had better starve\nThan but once think this place becomes thee not.\nSURREY May it please your grace,--\nKING HENRY VIII No, sir, it does not please me.\nI had thought I had had men of some understanding\nAnd wisdom of my council; but I find none.\nWas it discretion, lords, to let this man,\nThis good man,--few of you deserve that title,--\nThis honest man, wait like a lousy footboy\nAt chamber--door? and one as great as you are?\nWhy, what a shame was this! Did my commission\nBid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye\nPower as he was a counsellor to try him,\nNot as a groom: there's some of ye, I see,\nMore out of malice than integrity,\nWould try him to the utmost, had ye mean;\nWhich ye shall never have while I live.\nChancellor Thus far,\nMy most dread sovereign, may it like your grace\nTo let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed\nConcerning his imprisonment, was rather,\nIf there be faith in men, meant for his trial,\nAnd fair purgation to the world, than malice,\nI'm sure, in me.\nKING HENRY VIII Well, well, my lords, respect him;\nTake him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.\nI will say thus much for him, if a prince\nMay be beholding to a subject, I\nAm, for his love and service, so to him.\nMake me no more ado, but all embrace him:\nBe friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of\nCanterbury,\nI have a suit which you must not deny me;\nThat is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,\nYou must be godfather, and answer for her.\nCRANMER The greatest monarch now alive may glory\nIn such an honour: how may I deserve it\nThat am a poor and humble subject to you?\nKING HENRY VIII Come, come, my lord, you'ld spare your spoons: you\nshall have two noble partners with you; the old\nDuchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will\nthese please you?\nOnce more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,\nEmbrace and love this man.\nGARDINER With a true heart\nAnd brother-love I do it.\nCRANMER And let heaven\nWitness, how dear I hold this confirmation.\nKING HENRY VIII Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart:\nThe common voice, I see, is verified\nOf thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of Canterbury\nA shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.'\nCome, lords, we trifle time away; I long\nTo have this young one made a Christian.\nAs I have made ye one, lords, one remain;\nSo I grow stronger, you more honour gain.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT V\nSCENE IV The palace yard.\n[Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man]\nPorter You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: do you\ntake the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves,\nleave your gaping.\n[Within]\nGood master porter, I belong to the larder.\nPorter Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! is\nthis a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree\nstaves, and strong ones: these are but switches to\n'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing\nchristenings? do you look for ale and cakes here,\nyou rude rascals?\nMan Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impossible--\nUnless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons--\nTo scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep\nOn May-day morning; which will never be:\nWe may as well push against Powle's, as stir em.\nPorter How got they in, and be hang'd?\nMan Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?\nAs much as one sound cudgel of four foot--\nYou see the poor remainder--could distribute,\nI made no spare, sir.\nPorter You did nothing, sir.\nMan I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,\nTo mow 'em down before me: but if I spared any\nThat had a head to hit, either young or old,\nHe or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,\nLet me ne'er hope to see a chine again\nAnd that I would not for a cow, God save her!\n[Within]\nDo you hear, master porter?\nPorter I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.\nKeep the door close, sirrah.\nMan What would you have me do?\nPorter What should you do, but knock 'em down by the\ndozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have\nwe some strange Indian with the great tool come to\ncourt, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a\nfry of fornication is at door! On my Christian\nconscience, this one christening will beget a\nthousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together.\nMan The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a\nfellow somewhat near the door, he should be a\nbrazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty\nof the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand\nabout him are under the line, they need no other\npenance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on\nthe head, and three times was his nose discharged\nagainst me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to\nblow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small\nwit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked\nporringer fell off her head, for kindling such a\ncombustion in the state. I missed the meteor once,\nand hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when I\nmight see from far some forty truncheoners draw to\nher succor, which were the hope o' the Strand, where\nshe was quartered. They fell on; I made good my\nplace: at length they came to the broom-staff to\nme; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of\nboys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower\nof pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in,\nand let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst\n'em, I think, surely.\nPorter These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse,\nand fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but\nthe tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of\nLimehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure.\nI have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they\nare like to dance these three days; besides the\nrunning banquet of two beadles that is to come.\n[Enter Chamberlain]\nChamberlain Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here!\nThey grow still too; from all parts they are coming,\nAs if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,\nThese lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows:\nThere's a trim rabble let in: are all these\nYour faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have\nGreat store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,\nWhen they pass back from the christening.\nPorter An't please\nyour honour,\nWe are but men; and what so many may do,\nNot being torn a-pieces, we have done:\nAn army cannot rule 'em.\nChamberlain As I live,\nIf the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all\nBy the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads\nClap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy knaves;\nAnd here ye lie baiting of bombards, when\nYe should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;\nThey're come already from the christening:\nGo, break among the press, and find a way out\nTo let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find\nA Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.\nPorter Make way there for the princess.\nMan You great fellow,\nStand close up, or I'll make your head ache.\nPorter You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail;\nI'll peck you o'er the pales else.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nACT V\nSCENE V The palace.\n[Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord\nMayor, Garter, CRANMER, NORFOLK with his marshal's\nstaff, SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great\nstanding-bowls for the christening-gifts; then\nfour Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the\nDuchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child\nrichly habited in a mantle, &c., train borne by a\nLady; then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the\nother godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once\nabout the stage, and Garter speaks]\nGarter Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous\nlife, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty\nprincess of England, Elizabeth!\n[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VIII and Guard]\nCRANMER [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, and the good queen,\nMy noble partners, and myself, thus pray:\nAll comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,\nHeaven ever laid up to make parents happy,\nMay hourly fall upon ye!\nKING HENRY VIII Thank you, good lord archbishop:\nWhat is her name?\nCRANMER Elizabeth.\nKING HENRY VIII Stand up, lord.\n[KING HENRY VIII kisses the child]\nWith this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!\nInto whose hand I give thy life.\nCRANMER Amen.\nKING HENRY VIII My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:\nI thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,\nWhen she has so much English.\nCRANMER Let me speak, sir,\nFor heaven now bids me; and the words I utter\nLet none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.\nThis royal infant--heaven still move about her!--\nThough in her cradle, yet now promises\nUpon this land a thousand thousand blessings,\nWhich time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be--\nBut few now living can behold that goodness--\nA pattern to all princes living with her,\nAnd all that shall succeed: Saba was never\nMore covetous of wisdom and fair virtue\nThan this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,\nThat mould up such a mighty piece as this is,\nWith all the virtues that attend the good,\nShall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,\nHoly and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:\nShe shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her;\nHer foes shake like a field of beaten corn,\nAnd hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with her:\nIn her days every man shall eat in safety,\nUnder his own vine, what he plants; and sing\nThe merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:\nGod shall be truly known; and those about her\nFrom her shall read the perfect ways of honour,\nAnd by those claim their greatness, not by blood.\nNor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when\nThe bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,\nHer ashes new create another heir,\nAs great in admiration as herself;\nSo shall she leave her blessedness to one,\nWhen heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,\nWho from the sacred ashes of her honour\nShall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,\nAnd so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,\nThat were the servants to this chosen infant,\nShall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:\nWherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,\nHis honour and the greatness of his name\nShall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,\nAnd, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches\nTo all the plains about him: our children's children\nShall see this, and bless heaven.\nKING HENRY VIII Thou speakest wonders.\nCRANMER She shall be, to the happiness of England,\nAn aged princess; many days shall see her,\nAnd yet no day without a deed to crown it.\nWould I had known no more! but she must die,\nShe must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,\nA most unspotted lily shall she pass\nTo the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.\nKING HENRY VIII O lord archbishop,\nThou hast made me now a man! never, before\nThis happy child, did I get any thing:\nThis oracle of comfort has so pleased me,\nThat when I am in heaven I shall desire\nTo see what this child does, and praise my Maker.\nI thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor,\nAnd your good brethren, I am much beholding;\nI have received much honour by your presence,\nAnd ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords:\nYe must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,\nShe will be sick else. This day, no man think\nHas business at his house; for all shall stay:\nThis little one shall make it holiday.\n[Exeunt]\nKING HENRY VIII\nEPILOGUE\n'Tis ten to one this play can never please\nAll that are here: some come to take their ease,\nAnd sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,\nWe have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,\nThey'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city\nAbused extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'\nWhich we have not done neither: that, I fear,\nAll the expected good we're like to hear\nFor this play at this time, is only in\nThe merciful construction of good women;\nFor such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,\nAnd say 'twill do, I know, within a while\nAll the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,\nIf they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.","title":"King Henry the Eighth","type":"page"}