KING HENRY 8th

Queen, Wolsey, Campeius &c.
Act II. Scene I

Starling

BODI

BIBI

Is this your christian counsel? out upon ye!
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge,
That no king can corrupt.

Cam.

Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men I

thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com-
fort?

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 (If you have any justice, any pity;

have me

If ye be any thing 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.

Cam.

SHAK.

Your fears are worse.

IX.

Q. Kath. Have I lived thus long (let me speak myself,

Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare say, without vain glory)

Never yet branded with suspicion ?

Have I with all my full affections

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

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him! 1
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 honor-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.

1 Served him with superstitious attention.

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,
That once was mistress of the field, and florish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

Wol.

If your grace

Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good

lady,

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