My lord cardinal, I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, I free you from't. You are not to be taught That you have many enemies, that know not Why they are so, but, like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do: by some of these The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd: But will you be more justify'd? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd; oft made toward it:-on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't,
I will be bold with time, and your attention:- Then mark the inducement. Thus it came;— give heed to't:-
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness, Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador; Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and Our daughter Mary: I'the progress of this business, Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite; Wherein he might the king his lord advértise Whether our daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble The region of my breast; which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings did throng, And press'd in with this caution.
I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had Commanded nature, that my lady's womb, If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should Do no more offices of life to't, than The grave does to the dead: for her male issue Or died where they were made, or shortly after This world had air'd them: Hence I took a thought, This was a judgement on me; that my kingdom, Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should not Be gladded in't by me: Then follows, that I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present here together; that's to say, I meant to rectify my conscience,-which I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,- By all the reverend fathers of the land, And doctors learn'd.-First, I began in private With you, my lord of Lincoln; you remember How under my oppression I did reek,
K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say How far you satisfy'd me.
Lin. So please your highness, The question did at first so stagger me,Bearing a state of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread,-that I committed The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt; And did entreat your highness to this course, Which you are running here.
I then mov'd you, My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave To make this present summons:-Unsolicited I left no reverend person in this court; But by particular consent proceeded, Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on: For no dislike i'the world against the person Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points Of my alledged reasons, drive this forward: Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life, And kingly dignity, we are contented
To wear our mortal state to come, with her,
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature That's paragon'd o'the world.
Cam. The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness That we adjourn this court till further day: Mean while must be an earnest motion
So please your highness,
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart.
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, Pr'ythee return! with thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along. Break up the court: I say, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.
A Room in the Queen's Apartment,
The Queen, and some of her Women, at work.
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;
Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave working.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops, that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his musick, plants, and flowers, Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet musick is such art;
Killing care, and grief of heart,
Full asleep, or, hearing, die.
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