Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this busi

ness,

Ere a determinate resolution, he

(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
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. First, methought,
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 judgment 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,
When I first moved you.

Lin.

Very well, my liege.

K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself

to say

How far you satisfied 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. K. Hen. 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 alleged 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.

K. Hen.

Cam. The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness That we adjourn this court till further day : Mean while must be an earnest motion Made to the queen, to call back her appeal She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart. I may perceive, [Aside. 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 entered.

So pleasure your highness,

Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the Queen's Apartment.

Q. Kath.

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.

SONG.

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 been 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,

Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
Enter a Gentleman.

Q. Kath. How now?

Gent. An't please your grace, the two great cardinals Wait in the presence

Would they speak with me?

Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
Q. Kath.
To come near.
business

Pray their graces [Exit Gent.] What can be their

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour?
I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
They should be good men ; their affairs as righteous:
But all hoods make not monks.

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.

Wol.
Peace to your highness!
Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a
housewife;

I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to with-
draw

Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.

Q. Kath.
Speak it here;
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
Deserves a corner: 'Would, all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy
Above a number,) if my actions

Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,

Q. Kath. To betray me. [Aside. My lords, I thank you both for your good wills, Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!) But how to make ye suddenly an answer, In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, (More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking Either for such men, or such business. For her sake that I have been, (for I feel The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears;

Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q. Kath. In England, But little for my profit: Can you think, lords, Than any Englishman dare give me counsel ? Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, (Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,) And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, live not here: They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, In mine own country, lords. Cam.

I would, your grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. Q. Kath. How, sir? Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection;

He's loving, and most gracious; 'twill be much Both for your honour better, and your cause;

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish ye half my miseries,

I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity;

ye be anything but churchmen's habits,) Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already; His love, too long ago: I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience, What can happen To me above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this. Your fears are worse.

Cam.

A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,)
Never yet branded with suspicion ?
Have I with all my full affections

Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd him?

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we

aim at.

Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,

To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol.

'Pray, hear me. Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched lady?
I am the most unhappy woman living. ·
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
[To her Women.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me,
Almost, no grave allow'd me : - Like the lily,

Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places,
The way of our profession is against it;

We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them,
For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,

So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.
I know, you have a gentle, noble temper,
A soul as even as a calm; Pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser-

you;

Beware, you lose it not: For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray, forgive me,

If I have us'd myself unmannerly;

You know, I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray, do my service to his majesty:

He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers,
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. · Ante-chamber to the King's
Apartment.

Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF SUFFOLK,
the EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.

Sur.

I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be reveng'd on him.
Suf.

Which of the peers
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures:
What he deserves of you and me, I know;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his tongue.

Nor.
O, fear him not;
His spell in that is out: the king hath found

Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read,

How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o' the divorce; For if
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive,
My king is tangled in affection to

A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen.
Sur. Has the king this?

Suf.

Sur.

Believe it.

Will this work? Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he

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, out 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
An heretick, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.

Enter the KING, reading a schedule; and LOVELL.
Suf.
The king, the king.
K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumu-
lated

To his own portion! and what expence by the hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,
Does he rake this together!
Now, my lords;
Saw you the cardinal?
Nor.

My lord, we have
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.

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband: and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol.
Sir,

For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business, which
I bear i' the state; and nature does require
| Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.

K. Hen.

You have said well. Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together, As I will lend you cause, my doing well With my well-saying!

K. Hen.

'Tis well said again; 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.

Wol. 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, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,

'Tis nobly spoken: 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 What appetite you have. [Exit KING, frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY : the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.

What should this mean?

Wol.
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.

Stay,

Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry Authority so weighty.

Suf 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 me : 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. Wol.

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.