Will this work? Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he coasts,
And hedges, his own way. But in this point
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
After his patient's death; the king already
Hath married the fair lady.
No, no;
There be more wasps that buzz about his nose,
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
Has left the cause o'the king unhandled; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you
The king cried, ha! at this.
And let him cry ha, louder!
Nor.
When returns Cranmer?
May be, he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur.
Lord, for thy justice!
Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's
daughter,
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!-
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, ont it goes.-What though I know her vir-
tuous,
And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i'the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
He is vex'd at something. Suff. I would, 'twere something that would fret the string,
The master-cord of his heart!
Enter the King, reading a Schedule; and Lovell.
Suff
The king, the king.
K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumu-
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i'the name of Christ,
Now, God incense him, Does he rake this together?-Now, my lords;
Suff. He is return'd, in his opinions; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd, queen; but princess dowager,
And widow to prince Arthur.
Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen.
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning,
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; And, wote you, what I found
He has; and we shall see him There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
This same Cranmer's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time What appetite you have.
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that'
deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol.
And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you:
He said, he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.
What should this mean? Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside. K. Hen.
Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us, or no. What say you? Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man's endeavours:-my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fill'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it.
Fairly answered; A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated: The honour of it Does pay the act of it; as, i'the contrary, The foulness is the punishment. I presume, That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour,
On you, than any; so your hand, and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
Wol.
I do profess,
That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul: though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth the rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this; [Giving him papers.
And, after, this; and then to breakfast, with
[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.
Wol.
What should this mean?
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper,
I fear, the story of his anger.-'Tis so;
This paper has undone me :-'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet,
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,
Will bring me off again. What's this-To the Pope?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who
commands you
To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol.
Where's your commission,lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Who dare cross them?
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it
(I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,-envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king
(Mine, and your master,) with his own hand gave
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it? Sur. The king that gave it.
It must be himself then. Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. Wol. Proud lord, thou liest; Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue, than said so. Sur. Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: The heads of all thy brother cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,) Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me deputy for Ireland;
Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st
him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.
Wol.
This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts; how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate' a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st
feel
My sword i'the life-blood of thee else.-My lords,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks."
Wol.
Is poison to thy stomach.
Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,
You writ to the pope, against the king: your good
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.-
My lord of Norfolk,-as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state'
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,-
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life :-I'll startle you
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this
But that I am bound in charity against it!
(By what means got, I leave to your own con-
science,)
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere1 undoing
Of all the kingdom. Mary more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham.
O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:
His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.
Sur.
Suff. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,
Because all those things, you have done of late
By your power legatines within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a pramunire,®—
That therefore such a writ be sued against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king's protection :-This is my charge.
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank
you.
So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
Exeunt all but Wolsey.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms.
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root,
But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol.
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
So much fairer, This many summers in a sea of glory;
Bat far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
This cannot save you: Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
And spotless shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.
First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Nor Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.
Suff
Then, that, without the knowledge
(1) Equal. (2) Ridden. (3) A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth.
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.-
Enter Cromwell, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwell?
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.]
Crom.
How does your grace?
(5) As the Pope's legate,
(6) A writ incurring a penalty.
Wol
Never su truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
Why, well; Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate
thee;
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right
use of it.
Wol. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?
The heaviest and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol.
God bless him!
Crom. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen
Lord chancellor in your place.
That's somewhat sudden:
But he's a learned man.-May he continue
Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears' wept on 'em!
What more?
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O
Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king:
And,-pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny: 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not în mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol.
So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, SCENE I-A street in Westminster. Enter Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury,
Wol. That's news, indeed.
Crom.
Last, that the lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was view'd in open, as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.
Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.
O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature,) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.
O my lord,
Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.
two Gentlemen meeting.
1 Gent. You are well met once again.
2 Gent.
And so are you. 1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and behold
The lady Anne pass from her coronation?
2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en
counter,
The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1 Gent. 'Tis very true: but that time offered
sorrow;
This, general joy.
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds;
As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
1 Gent.
Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?
Yes; 'tis the list
Of those, that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.
The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be carl-marshal; you may read the rest.
2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those
I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be;
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thec.
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd'it
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
(1) The chancellor is the guardian of orphans.
1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned inen she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage' made of none effect:
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.
2 Gent
Alas, good lady!—
[Trumpets.
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is
coming.
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.
3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent.
3 Gent. As well as I am able.
Good sir, speak it to us. The rich stream [Music. Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his A distance from her; while her grace sat down head, a gilt copper crown. To rest a while, some half an hour, or so, 5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on In a rich chair of state, opposing freely his head a demi-coronal of gold. With The beauty of her person to the people. him the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman of silver with the dove, crowned with an That ever lay by man: which when the people earl's coronet. Collars of SS. Had the full view of, such a noise arose 6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coro-As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, net on his head, bearing a long white As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, wand, as high-steward. With him, the (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces duke of Norfolk, with the rod of mar-Bec loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy shalship, a coronet on his head. Collars I never saw before. Great-bellied women, of SS. That had not half a week to go, like rams 7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; In the old time of war, would shake the press, under it, the Queen in her robe; in her And make them reel before them. No man living hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven On each side of her, the bishops of London So strangely in one piece. and Winchester. 2 Gent. But pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces
8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.
9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These know ;
Who's that, that bears the sceptre?
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintlike,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly, Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people: IWhen by the archbishop of Canterbury
1 Gent. Marquis Dorset: And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that should be
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent.
Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall.
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.
2 Gent.
What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen
?
3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Win-
chester,
(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are The other, London. near her.
I take it, she that carries up the train,
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.
1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.
2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars,
And, sometimes, falling ones.
1 Gent.
No more of that.
[Exit procession, with a great flourish of
trumpets.
(1) The marriage lately considered as valid.
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