Anne.

Now, I pray God, amen!

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

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

Cham.

Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,
The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well;

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,

[Aside.

That they have caught the king: and who knows yet, But from this lady may proceed a gem,

To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king,

And say, I spoke with you.

Anne.

My honour'd lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!

I have been begging sixteen years in court
(Am yet a courtier beggarly), nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds: and you, (O fate!)
A very fresh fish here, (fie, fie upon

This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

Anne.

This is strange to me.

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no..

There was a lady once ('tis an old story),
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt: Have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.

Old L.

With your theme, I could
O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke!
A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect;
No other obligation: By my life,

That promises more thousands: Honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a duchess;-Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?

Good lady,

Anne.
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me,
To think what follows.

The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence: Pray, do not deliver
What here you have heard, to her.
Old L.

What do you think me?
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Hall in BLACKFRIARS. Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short Silver Wands; next them, two Scribes, in the Habits of Doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY alone; after him, the Bishops of LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and ST. ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the Great Seal, and a Cardinal's Hat; then two Priests, bearing each a Silver Cross; then a Gentleman Usher bare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a Silver Mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great Silver Pillars; after them, side by side, the two Cardinals WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; two Noblemen with the Sword and Mace. Then enter the KING and QUEEN, and their Trains. The KING takes Place under the Cloth of State; the two Cardinals sit under him as

Judges. The QUEEN takes Place, at some distance from the KING. The Bishops place themselves on each side the Court, in manner of a Consistory; between them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the Stage.

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

K. Hen.

What's the need?

It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd:
You may then spare that time.

Wol.
Be't so-Proceed.
Scribe. Say, Henry, king of England, come into the
Crier. Henry, king of England, &c.

K. Hen. Here.

[court.

Scribe. Say, Katharine, queen of England, come into Crier. Katharine, queen of England, &c. [court. [The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her Chair, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneels at his Feet; then speaks.]

Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice; And to bestow your pity on me: for

I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,

And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable:

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,

I ever contradicted your desire,

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew

He were mine enemy? what friend of mine,
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you: If, in the course
And process of this time, you can report
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for

A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, king of Spain, was reckon❜d one
The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many
A year before: It is not to be question'd

That they had gather'd a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose council
I will implore: if not, i'the name of God,

Your pleasure be fulfill'd!

Wol.

You have here, lady

(And of your choice), these reverend fathers; men Of singular integrity and learning,

Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled

To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless, That longer you desire the court; as well

For your own quiet, as to rectify

What is unsettled in the king.

Cam.

His grace

Hath spoken well, and justly: Therefore, madam,
It's fit this royal session do proceed;

And that, without delay, their arguments

Be now produc'd, and heard.

Q. Kath.

To you I speak.
Wol.

Q. Kath.

Lord cardinal,

Your pleasure, madam?

I am about to weep; but, thinking that

Sir,

We are a queen (or long have dream'd so), certain,
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears

I'll turn to sparks of fire.

Wol.

Be patient yet.

Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; nay, before, Or God will punish me. I do believe,

Induc'd by potent circumstances, that

You are nine enemy; and make my challenge,
You shall not be my judge: for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,-
Which God's dew quench!-Therefore, I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul,

Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more,
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
At all a friend to truth.

Wol.
I do profess
You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom

O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong:
I have no spleen against you; nor injustice

For you, or any: how far I have proceeded,

Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the consistory,

Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me,
That I have blown this coal: I do deny it:
The king is present: if it be known to him,
That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as much
As you have done my truth. But if he know
That I am free of your report, he knows,
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies, to cure me: and the cure is, to

Remove these thoughts from you: The which before
His highness shall speak in, I do beseech