HENRY THE EIGHTH
By William Shakespeare
THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF KING HENRY THE EIGHTH
ALL IS TRUE
Dramatis Personae.
Speaker of the PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE.
KING HENRY the Eighth.
Queen KATHARINE, Wife to King Henry; afterwards divorced.
PATIENCE, Woman to Queen Katharine.
GRIFFITH, Gentleman-Usher to Queen Katharine.
Women attending on Katharine.
ANNE BULLEN, her maid of Honour; afterwards Queen.
An OLD LADY, Friend to Anne Bullen.
Duke of NORFOLK. Duke of SUFFOLK.
Duke of BUCKINGHAM. Earl of SURREY.
Lord CHANCELLOR. Lord CHAMBERLAIN.
Lord ABERGAVENNY. Lord SANDS.
Sir Thomas LOVELL. Sir Henry GUILFORD.
Sir Anthony DENNY. Sir Nicholas VAUX.
CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles the Fifth.
CARDINAL Wolsey.
Thomas CROMWELL, Servant to Wolsey.
SECRETARY to Wolsey.
Cardinal CAMPEIUS.
Thomas CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester.
PAGE to Gardiner.
Bishop of LINCOLN.
Bishops of Ely, Rochester, and St.Asaph.
Doctor BUTTS, Physician to the King.
1st GENTLEMAN. 2nd GENTLEMAN, 3rd GENTLEMAN.
GARTER King-of-arms.
BRANDON.
SERGEANT-at-arms.
SURVEYOR to the Duke of Buckingham.
Door-KEEPER of the Council Chamber.
PORTER, and Porter's MAN.
1st SECRETARY, 2nd Secretary.
A CRIER. A MESSENGER. A SERVANT.
Lords and Ladies in the Dumb-shows;
Six Spirits appearing to Katharine.
Tipstaves, Halberds, Officers, Guards,
Commoners, Attendants, Pursuivants, Footboys,
Pages, Trumpeters, Aldermen, Noblemen, Judges,
Choiristers, Barons of the Cinque-ports, Priests,
A Gentleman Usher, Vergers, Scribes.
Scene: London and Westminster; once, at Kimbolton.
+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++
THE PROLOGUE
Prologue I come no more to make you laugh. Things now
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity here,
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;
The subject will deserve it. Such as give
Their money out of hope they may believe,
May here find truth too. Those that come to see
Only a show or two, and so agree
The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
I'll undertake may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they
That come to hear a merry bawdy play,
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,
Will be deceived; for gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
To make that only true we now intend,
Will leave us never an understanding friend.
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
The first and happiest hearers of the town,
Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see
The very persons of our noble story
As they were living: think you see them great,
And followed with the general throng and sweat
Of thousand friends; then, in a moment, see
How soon this mightiness meets misery:
And if you can be merry then, I'll say
A man may weep upon his wedding day.
[Exit.
ACT 1.
Scene 1. London. An Antechamber in the Palace.
Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK at one door.
At the other, the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and the LORD ABERGAVENNY.
Buckingham Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done
Since last we saw in France?
Norfolk I thank your grace,
Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.
Buckingham An untimely ague
Stayed me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Andren.
Norfolk 'Twixt Guynes and Arde.
I was then present, saw them salute on horseback,
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement as they grew together;
Which had they, what four throned ones could have weighed
Such a compounded one?
Buckingham All the whole time
I was my chamber's prisoner.
Norfolk Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: men might say,
Till this time, pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders its. Today the French,
All clinquant, all in gold like heathen gods,
Shone down the English; and tomorrow they
Made Britain India: every man that stood
Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too,
Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting. Now this masque
Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them: him in eye,
Still him in praise, and, being present both,
'Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns -
For so they phrase 'em -by their heralds challenged
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass, that former fabulous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis was believed.
Buckingham O, you go far.
Norfolk As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, the tract of everything
Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;
To the disposing of it nought rebelled,
Order gave each thing view; the office did
Distinctly his full function.
Buckingham Who did guide,
I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess?
Norfolk One certes, that promises no element
In such a business.
Buckingham I pray you, who, my lord?
Norfolk All this was ordered by the good discretion
Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.
Buckingham The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed
From his ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
That such a keech can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o'th'beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.
Norfolk Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spider-like,
Out of his self-drawing web -O, gives us note -
The force of his own merit makes his way;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
Abergavenny I cannot tell
What heaven hath given him: let some graver eye
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him: whence has he that?
If not from hell the devil is a niggard,
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.
Buckingham Why the devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o'th'king, t'appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the most part such
To whom as great a charge, as little honour
He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,
The honourable board of council, out
Must fetch him in he papers.
Abergavenny I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sickened their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly.
Buckingham O, many
Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
For this great journey. What did this vanity
But minister communication of
A most poor issue?
Norfolk Grievingly I think,
The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.
Buckingham Every man,
After the hideous storm that followed, was
A thing inspired, and, not consulting, broke
Into a general prophecy: that this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudden breach on't.
Norfolk Which is budded out,
For France hath flawed the league, and hath attached
Our merchants' goods at Bordeaux.
Abergavenny Is it therefore
The ambassador is silenced?
Norfolk Marry, is't.
Abergavenny A proper title of a peace; and purchased
At a superfluous rate!
Buckingham Why, all this business
Our reverend cardinal carried.
Norfolk Like it your grace,
The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you -
And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety -that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together; to consider further that
What his high hatred would effect wants not
A minister in his power. You know his nature,
That he's revengeful; and I know his sword
Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and't may be said,
It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock
That I advise your shunning.
Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the Purse borne before him, certain of the GUARD, and
TWO SECRETARIES with papers.
The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on
him, both full of disdain.
Cardinal The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?
Where's his examination?
1st Secretary Here, so please you.
Cardinal Is he in person ready?
1st Secretary Ay, please your grace.
Cardinal Well, we shall then know more, and Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.
[Exeunt CARDINAL and his TRAIN.
Buckingham This butcher's cur is venom-mouthed, and I
Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Outworths a noble's blood.
Norfolk What, are you chafed?
Ask God for temp'rance; that's the appliance only
Which your disease requires.
Buckingham I read in's looks
Matter against me, and his eye reviled
Me as his abject object: at this instant
He bores me with some trick; he's gone to the king:
I'll follow and outstare him.
Norfolk Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills
Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way,
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you: be to yourself
As you would to your friend.
Buckingham I'll to the king,
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaim
There's difference in no persons.
Norfolk Be advised;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself. We may outrun
By violent swiftness that which we run at,
And lose by overrunning. Know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er,
In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised;
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself,
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.
Buckingham Sir,
I am thankful to you, and I'll go along
By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions -by intelligence
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel -I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.
Norfolk Say not treasonous.
Buckingham To th' king I'll say't, and make my vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, for he is equal ravenous
As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief
As able to perform't, his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,
Only to show his pomp as well in France
As here at home, suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty; the interview,
That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i'th'wrenching.
Norfolk Faith, and so it did.
Buckingham Pray give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
The articles o'th'combination drew
As himself pleased; and they were ratified
As he cried `Thus let be' to as much end
As give a crutch to the dead. But our court-cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To the old dam, treason, Charles the Emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey, here makes visitation:
His fears were that the interview betwixt
England and France might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice, for from this league
Peeped harms that menaced him. He privily
Deals with our cardinal, and, as I trow,
Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor
Paid ere he promised, whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was asked; but when the way was made
And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,
That he would please to alter the king's course
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know
- As soon he shall by me -that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.
Norfolk I am sorry
To hear this of him, and could wish he were
Something mistaken in't.
Buckingham No, not a syllable:
I do pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appear in proof.
Enter BRANDON, a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS before him, and two or three of the GUARD.
Brandon Your office, Sergeant; execute it.
Sergeant Sir,
My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hereford, Stafford and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.
Buckingham Lo you, my lord,
The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish
Under device and practice.
Brandon I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present. 'Tis his highness' pleasure
You shall to the Tower.
Buckingham It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence, for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heaven
Be done in this and all things! I obey.
O, my lord Abergavenny, fare you well!
Brandon Nay, he must bear you company. [To ABERGAVENNY.] The king
Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know
How he determines further.
Abergavenny As the duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
By me obeyed.
Brandon Here is a warrant from
The king to attach Lord Montacute, and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor -
Buckingham So, so;
These are the limbs o'th'plot: no more I hope.
Brandon A monk o'th'Chartreux.
Buckingham O, Nicholas Hopkins?
Brandon He.
Buckingham My surveyor is false; the o'ergreat cardinal
Hath showed him gold; my life is spanned already:
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on
By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 2. The Council Chamber.
Cornets.
Enter KING HENRY, leaning on the CARDINAL's shoulder, the NOBLES, and SIR
THOMAS LOVELL, and a SECRETARY to Wolsey.
The Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on his right side.
King Henry My life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i'th'level
Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks
To you that choked it. Let be called before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person
I'll hear him his confessions justify,
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.
A noise within crying "Room for the Queen!"
Enter the QUEEN, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK: she kneels.
King riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him.
Katharine Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.
King Henry Arise, and take place by us. Half your suit
Never name to us -you have half our power;
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
Repeat your will and take it.
Katharine Thank your majesty;
That you would love yourself, and in that love,
Not unconsidered leave your honour nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.
King Henry Lady mine, proceed.
Katharine I am solicited, not by a few,
And those of true condition, that your subjects
Are in great grievance: there have been commissions
Sent down among 'em, which hath flawed the heart
Of all their loyalties; wherein, although,
My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master,
Whose honour heaven shield from soil, even he escapes not
Language unmannerly; yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.
Norfolk Not almost appears,
It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who
Unfit for other life, compelled by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.
King Henry Taxation?
Wherein? And what taxation? My Lord Cardinal,
You that are blamed for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?
Cardinal Please you sir,
I know but of a single part in aught
Pertains to the state, and front but in that file
Where others tell steps with me.
Katharine No, my lord,
You know no more than others; but you frame
Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear 'em,
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devised by you, or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.
King Henry Still exaction!
The nature of it, in what kind let's know,
Is this exaction?
Katharine I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience, but am boldened
Under your promised pardon. The subjects' grief
Comes through commissions, which compels from each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay; and the pretence for this
Is named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths;
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; their curses now
Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass
This tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will. I would your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer baseness.
King Henry By my life,
This is against our pleasure.
Cardinal And for me,
I have no further gone in this than by
A single voice, and that not passed me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The chronicles of my doing, let me say
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue must go through. We must not stint
Our necessary actions, in the fear
To cope malicious censurers, which ever,
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new trimmed, but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mocked or carped at,
We should take root here where we sit,
Or sit state-statues only.
King Henry Things done well,
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be feared. Have you a precedent
Of this commission? I believe, not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution! Why, we take
From every tree, lop, bark and part o'th'timber,
And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked,
The air will drink the sap. To every county
Where this is questioned, send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has denied
The force of this commission. Pray look to't;
I put it to your care.
Cardinal [To the SECRETARY.] A word with you.
Let there be letters writ to every shire,
Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons
Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised
That through our intercession this revokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding.
[Exit SECRETARY.
Enter SURVEYOR.
Katharine I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.
King Henry It grieves many:
The gentleman is learned, and a most rare speaker,
To nature none more bound; his training such
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself: yet see,
When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enrolled 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravished list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute, he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmeared in hell. Sit by us, you shall hear -
This was his gentleman in trust -of him
Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices, whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Cardinal Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
King Henry Speak freely.
Surveyor First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, that if the king
Should without issue die, he'll carry it so
To make the sceptre his. These very words
I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Abergavenny, to whom by oath he menaced
Revenge upon the cardinal.
Cardinal Please your highness, note
This dangerous conception in this point.
Not friended by his wish to your high person,
His will is most malignant, and it stretches
Beyond you to your friends.
Katharine My learned Lord Cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.
King Henry Speak on:
How grounded he his title to the crown
Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?
Surveyor He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.
King Henry What was that Henton?
Surveyor Sir, a Chartreux friar,
His confessor, who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.
King Henry How know'st thou this?
Surveyor Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey: I replied,
Men feared the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said 'twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk, `that oft', says he,
`Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living but
To me should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensued: neither the king nor's heirs -
Tell you the duke -shall prosper; bid him strive
To gain the love o'th'commonalty: the duke
Shall govern England'.
Katharine If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'th'tenants: take good heed
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you.
King Henry Let him on:
Go forward.
Surveyor On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceived, and that 'twas dangerous
To ruminate on this so far until
It forged him some design, which, being believed,
It was much like to do. He answered `Tush!
It can do me no damage'; adding further,
That had the king in his last sickness failed,
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.
King Henry Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!
There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?
Surveyor I can, my liege.
King Henry Proceed.
Surveyor Being at Greenwich,
After your highness had reproved the duke
About Sir William Bulmer -
King Henry I remember
Of such a time; being my sworn servant,
The duke retained him his. But on; what hence?
Surveyor `If' quoth he `I for this had been committed,
As to the Tower I thought, I would have played
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard, who being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.'
King Henry A giant traitor!
Cardinal Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
And this man out of prison?
Katharine God mend all.
King Henry There's something more would out of thee; what sayst?
Surveyor After `the duke his father', with the `knife',
He stretched him, and, with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenor
Was, were he evil used, he would outgo
His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.
King Henry There's his period;
To sheath his knife in us. He is attached,
Call him to present trial: if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us. By day and night
He's traitor to the height!
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 3. A Room in the Palace.
Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN and LORD SANDS.
Chamberlain Is't possible the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
Sands New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are followed.
Chamberlain As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o'th'face; but they are shrewd ones,
For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
Sands They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it,
That never see 'em pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt reigned among 'em.
Chamberlain Death, my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to't,
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.
Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
How now!
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Lovell Faith, my lord,
I hear of none but the new proclamation
That's clapped upon the court-gate.
Chamberlain What is't for?
Lovell The reformation of our travelled gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Chamberlain I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
Lovell They must either
- For so run the conditions -leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto -as fights and fireworks,
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom -renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,
Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men,
Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, `oui' away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laughed at.
Sands 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
Chamberlain What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
Lovell Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed lords; the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
Sands The devil fiddle 'em! I'm glad they're going,
For sure there's no converting of 'em: now
An honest country lord as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song,
And have an hour of hearing, and by'r lady,
Held current music too.
Chamberlain Well said, Lord Sands,
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet?
Sands No, my lord,
Nor shall not while I have a stump.
Chamberlain Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going?
Lovell To the cardinal's;
Your lordship is a guest too.
Chamberlain O, 'tis true:
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
Lovell That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall everywhere.
Chamberlain No doubt he's noble;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Sands He may, my lord; 'has wherewithal: in him
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal;
They are set here for examples.
Chamberlain True, they are so;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late else, which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford,
This night to be comptrollers.
Sands I am your lordship's.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 4. The Presence-chamber in York Place.
Hautboys. A small table under a state for Cardinal Wolsey, a longer table for
the guests.
Then enter ANNE BULLEN, and divers other LADIES and GENTLEMEN, as guests at
one door;
at another door enter SIR HENRY GUILFORD.
Guilford Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates
To fair content and you. None here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad; he would have all as merry
As first, good company, good wine, good welcome
Can make good people.
Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN, LORD SANDS and LOVELL.
O my lord, y'are tardy;
The very thought of this fair company
Clapped wings to me.
Chamberlain You are young, Sir Harry Guilford.
Sands Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think would better please 'em: by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Lovell O, that your lordship were but now confessor
To one or two of these.
Sands I would I were;
They should find easy penance.
Lovell Faith, how easy?
Sands As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
Chamberlain Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this:
His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze,
Two women placed together makes cold weather:
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;
Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands By my faith,
And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies,
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
Anne Bullen Was he mad, sir?
Sands O very mad, exceeding mad; in love too;
But he would bite none; just as I do now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
Chamberlain Well said, my lord.
So now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.
Sands For my little cure,
Let me alone.
Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and takes his state.
Cardinal You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome,
And to you all, good health.
Sands Your grace is noble;
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.
Cardinal My Lord Sands,
I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.
Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
Sands The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have 'em
Talk us to silence.
Anne Bullen You are a merry gamester,
My Lord Sands.
Sands Yes, if I make my play.
Here's to your ladyship, and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing -
Anne Bullen You cannot show me.
[Drum and trumpet. Chambers discharged.
Sands I told your grace they would talk anon.
Cardinal What's that?
Chamberlain Look out there, some of ye.
Cardinal What warlike voice,
And to what end is this? Nay ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you're privileged.
Enter a SERVANT.
Chamberlain How now, what is't?
Servant A noble troop of strangers,
For so they seem. They've left their barge and landed,
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.
Cardinal Good lord Chamberlain,
Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;
And pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
[Exit CHAMBERLAIN attended.
[All rise, and tables removed.
You have now a broken banquet, but we'll mend it.
A good digestion to you all; and once more
I shower a welcome on ye -welcome all!
Hautboys.
Enter KING and others as MASQUERS, habited like shepherds, ushered by the LORD
CHAMBERLAIN.
They pass directly before the CARDINAL, and gracefully salute him.
A noble company! What are their pleasures?
Chamberlain Because they speak no English, thus they prayed
To tell your grace: that having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly
This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks, and under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with 'em.
Cardinal Say, Lord Chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace, for which I pay 'em
A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.
[They choose Ladies; KING chooses ANNE BULLEN.
King Henry The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty,
Till now I never knew thee!
[Music. Dance.
Cardinal My lord.
Chamberlain Your grace?
Cardinal Pray tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.
Chamberlain I will, my lord.
[Whispers to the Masquers.
Cardinal What say they?
Chamberlain Such a one, they all confess,
There is indeed, which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.
Cardinal Let me see then,
By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make
My royal choice.
King Henry [Unmasking.] Ye have found him, cardinal.
You hold a fair assembly; you do well lord:
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Cardinal I am glad
Your grace is grown so pleasant.
King Henry My Lord Chamberlain,
Prithee come hither. What fair lady's that?
Chamberlain An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter,
The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women.
King Henry By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly to take you out
And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round.
Cardinal Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I'th'privy chamber?
Lovell Yes my lord.
Cardinal Your grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
King Henry I fear, too much.
Cardinal There's fresher air, my lord,
In the next chamber.
King Henry Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,
I must not yet forsake you. Let's be merry:
Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt with trumpets.
+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++
ACT 2.
Scene 1. Westminster. A Street.
Enter two GENTLEMEN at several doors.
1st Gentleman Whither away so fast?
2nd Gentleman O, God save ye:
E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
1st Gentleman I'll save you
That labour sir. All's now done but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
2nd Gentleman Were you there?
1st Gentleman Yes, indeed was I.
2nd Gentleman Pray speak what has happened.
1st Gentleman You may guess quickly what.
2nd Gentleman Is he found guilty?
1st Gentleman Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon't.
2nd Gentleman I am sorry for't.
1st Gentleman So are a number more.
2nd Gentleman But pray, how passed it?
1st Gentleman I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where, to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney on the contrary
Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses, which the duke desired
To have brought, viva voce, to his face;
At which appeared against him his surveyor,
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor, and John Car,
Confessor to him, with that devil monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2nd Gentleman That was he
That fed him with his prophecies.
1st Gentleman The same.
All these accused him strongly, which he fain
Would have flung from him; but, indeed he could not,
And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
Was either pitied in him or forgotten.
2nd Gentleman After all this, how did he bear himself?
1st Gentleman When he was brought again to the bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirred
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest showed a most noble patience.
2nd Gentleman I do not think he fears death.
1st Gentleman Sure he does not;
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2nd Gentleman Certainly
The cardinal is the end of this.
1st Gentleman 'Tis likely
By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland, who, removed,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2nd Gentleman That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
1st Gentleman At his return,
No doubt he will requite it; this is noted,
And generally, whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
2nd Gentleman All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and o'my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy -
1st Gentleman Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruined man you speak of.
Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment, TIPSTAVES before him, the axe with the
edge towards him, HALBERDS on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS LOVELL,
SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WALTER SANDS, and COMMON PEOPLE &c.
2nd Gentleman Let's stand close, and behold him.
[GENTLEMEN stand apart.
Buckingham All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day received a traitor's judgment,
And by that name must die; yet, heaven bear witness,
And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,
'T has done upon the premises but justice;
But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em;
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men,
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me, like good angels, to my end,
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o'God's name.
Lovell I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buckingham Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all.
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with: no black envy
Shall make my grave. Commend me to his grace,
And if he speaks of Buckingham, pray tell him
You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers
Yet are the king's, and, till my soul forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever beloved and loving may his rule be,
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!
Lovell To the water side I must conduct your grace,
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.
Vaux Prepare there!
The duke is coming: see the barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.
Buckingham Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither I was Lord High Constable
And Duke of Buckingham: now, poor Edward Bohun:
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it,
And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.
My noble father Henry of Buckingham,
Who first raised head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distressed, was by that wretch betrayed,
And without trial fell: God's peace be with him!
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restored me to my honours, and out of ruins
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes; both
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most:
A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heaven has an end in all; yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,
Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me; I must now forsake ye: the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell;
And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell. I have done, and God forgive me!
[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and TRAIN.
1st Gentleman [Advancing with 2nd GENTLEMAN.]
O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads
That were the authors.
2nd Gentleman If the duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
1st Gentleman Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
2nd Gentleman This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.
1st Gentleman Let me have it;
I do not talk much.
2nd Gentleman I am confident:
You shall sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine?
1st Gentleman Yes, but it held not;
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor straight
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.
2nd Gentleman But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now; for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possessed him with a scruple
That will undo her: to confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,
As all think, for this business.
1st Gentleman 'Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.
2nd Gentleman I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel
That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.
1st Gentleman 'Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 2. An Antechamber in the Palace.
A curtain hides the inner stage.
Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN, reading this letter.
Chamberlain [Reads.] "My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with
all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden and furnished. They were young
and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set
out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by commission and main power,
took 'em from me, with this reason: his master would be served before a
subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir."
I fear he will indeed; well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.
Enter to the Lord Chamberlain, the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.
Norfolk Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
Chamberlain Good day to both your graces.
Suffolk How is the king employed?
Chamberlain I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Norfolk What's the cause?
Chamberlain It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
Suffolk [Aside.] No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
Norfolk 'Tis so:
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal,
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.
Suffolk Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else.
Norfolk How holily he works in all his business -
And with what zeal! -for now he has cracked the league
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,
He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears and despairs; and all these for his marriage:
And out of all these, to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce, a loss of her
That like a jewel has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her,
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king: and is not this course pious?
Chamberlain Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em,
And every true heart weeps for't. All that dare
Look into these affairs, see this main end,
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.
Suffolk And free us from his slavery.
Norfolk We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance,
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages. All men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned
Into what pitch he please.
Suffolk For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him, there's my creed.
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the king please; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they're breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the Pope.
Norfolk Let's in,
And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.
My lord, you'll bear us company?
Chamberlain Excuse me;
The king has sent me otherwhere: besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.
Norfolk Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
[Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN.
[The KING draws the curtain and sits reading pensively.
Suffolk How sad he looks! Sure, he is much afflicted.
King Henry Who's there, ha?
Norfolk Pray God he be not angry.
King Henry Who's there I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I, ha?
Norfolk A gracious king that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate, in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
King Henry Ye are too bold.
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS with a commission.
Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O, my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a king.
[To CAMPEIUS.] You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us and it.
[To WOLSEY.] My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
Cardinal Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
King Henry [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.] We are busy; go.
Norfolk [Aside to SUFFOLK.]
This priest has no pride in him!
Suffolk [Aside to NORFOLK.] Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick though for his place:
But this cannot continue.
Norfolk [Aside to SUFFOLK.] If it do,
I'll venture one; have at him!
Suffolk [Aside to NORFOLK.] I another.
[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.
Cardinal Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean the learned ones in Christian kingdoms,
Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,
Whom once more I present unto your highness.
King Henry And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves.
They have sent me such a man I would have wished for.
Campeius Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble. To your highness' hand
I tender my commission, by whose virtue,
The court of Rome commanding, you, my Lord
Cardinal of York, are joined with me, their servant,
In the unpartial judging of this business.
King Henry Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
Cardinal I know your majesty has always loved her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars, allowed freely to argue for her.
King Henry Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour
To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow.
Enter GARDINER.
Cardinal [Aside to GARDINER.]
Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you;
You are the king's now.
Gardiner [Aside to WOLSEY.] But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.
King Henry Come hither Gardiner.
[Walks and whispers.
Campeius My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
In this man's place before him?
Cardinal Yes, he was.
Campeius Was he not held a learned man?
Cardinal Yes, surely.
Campeius Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
Cardinal How? Of me?
Campeius They will not stick to say, you envied him,
And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved him
That he ran mad and died.
Cardinal Heaven's peace be with him!
That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
For he would needs be virtuous. That good fellow,
If I command him follows my appointment:
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be griped by meaner persons.
King Henry Deliver this with modesty to the queen.
[Exit GARDINER.
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars:
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
My Wolsey, see it furnished. O my lord!
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? But conscience, conscience!
O 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 3. A Room in the Queen's Apartments.
Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY.
Anne Bullen Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches:
His highness having lived so long with her, and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
She never knew harm-doing; O, now after
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
To leave a thousandfold more bitter than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire: after this process,
To give her the avaunt, it is a pity
Would move a monster!
Old Lady Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
Anne Bullen O God's will! Much better
She ne'er had known pomp; though 't be temporal,
Yet if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old Lady Alas poor lady!
She's a stranger now again.
Anne Bullen So much the more
Must pity drop upon her: verily
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perked up in a glist'ring grief
And wear a golden sorrow.
Old Lady Our content
Is our best having.
Anne Bullen By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
Old Lady Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for't, and so would you
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart, which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.
Anne Bullen Nay, good troth.
Old Lady Yes troth and troth; you would not be a queen?
Anne Bullen No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old Lady 'Tis strange; a threepence bowed would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs
To bear that load of title?
Anne Bullen No, in truth.
Old Lady Then you are weakly made; pluck off a little:
I would not be a young count in your way
For more than blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.
Anne Bullen How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
Old Lady In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there longed
No more to th'crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN.
Chamberlain Good morrow ladies; what were't worth to know
The secret of your conference?
Anne Bullen My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Chamberlain It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women; there is hope
All will be well.
Anne Bullen Now I pray God, amen!
Chamberlain 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 of 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 Bullen 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 hallowed, 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.
Chamberlain Lady,
I shall not fail t'approve the fair conceit
The king hath of you. [Aside.] I have perused her well;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
That they have caught the king: and who knows yet
But from this lady may proceed a gem
To lighten all this isle.[To ANNE.] I'll to the king,
And say I spoke with you.
[Exit.
Anne Bullen My honoured lord.
Old Lady 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 compelled fortune, have your mouth filled up
Before you open it.
Anne Bullen This is strange to me.
Old Lady 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 Bullen Come, you are pleasant.
Old Lady 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?
Anne Bullen Good lady,
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've heard to her.
Old Lady What do you think me?
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 4. A Hall in Black-Friars.
Trumpets, sennet and cornets.
Enter TWO VERGERS with short silver wands;
next them, TWO SCRIBES in the habit of doctors;
after them, the BISHOP 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 bareheaded, 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, two NOBLEMEN, with the sword and
mace.
The KING takes place under the cloth of state.
The two CARDINALS sit under him as judges.
The QUEEN takes place some distance from the King.
The BISHOPS place themselves on each side the court in manner of a consistory;
below them the SCRIBES.
The LORDS sit next the Bishops.
The rest of the ATTENDANTS stand in convenient order about the stage.
Cardinal Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.
King Henry What's the need?
It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allowed;
You may then spare that time.
Cardinal Be't so. Proceed.
Scribe Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.
Crier Henry King of England, come into the court.
Scribe Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
Crier Katharine Queen of England, come into the 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.
Katharine 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 inclined. 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 derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking; nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharged? 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 sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The king your father was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatched wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one
The wisest prince that there had reigned by many
A year before: it is not to be questioned
That they had gathered a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
Who deemed our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly
Beseech you sir, to spare me till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel
I will implore. If not, i'th'name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfilled!
Cardinal You have here, lady,
- And of your choice -these reverend fathers; men
Of singular integrity and learning;
Yea, the elect o'th'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.
Campeius 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 produced and heard.
Katharine Lord Cardinal,
To you I speak.
Cardinal Your pleasure, madam.
Katharine Sir,
I am about to weep; but, thinking that
We are a queen, or long have dreamed so, certain
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.
Cardinal Be patient yet.
Katharine I will, when you are humble; nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induced by potent circumstances, that
You are mine 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.
Cardinal I do profess
You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
Have stood to charity and displayed 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. 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
You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking,
And to say so no more.
Katharine My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You're meek and humble-mouthed;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility; but your heart
Is crammed with arrogancy, spleen and pride.
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers, and your words,
Domestics to you, serve your will as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour than
Your high profession spiritual; that again
I do refuse you for my judge, and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the Pope,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness
And to be judged by him.
[She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.
Campeius The queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well.
She's going away.
King Henry Call her again.
Crier Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
Gentleman
Usher Madam, you are called back.
Katharine What need you note it? Pray you, keep your way,
When you are called return. Now the Lord help!
They vex me past my patience. Pray you pass on;
I will not tarry; no, nor ever more
Upon this business my appearance make
In any of their courts.
[Exeunt KATHARINE and her ATTENDANTS.
King Henry Go thy ways Kate:
That man i'th'world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that: thou art alone -
If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saintlike, wife-like government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out -
The queen of earthly queens: she's noble born,
And like her true nobility she has
Carried herself towards me.
Cardinal Most gracious sir,
In humblest manner I require your highness,
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these ears, for where I am robbed and bound
There must I be unloosed, although not there
At once and fully satisfied, whether ever I
Did broach this business to your highness, or
Laid any scruple in your way which might
Induce you to the question on't; or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spake one the least word that might
Be to the prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person?
King Henry 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're excused:
But will you be more justified? You ever
Have wished the sleeping of this business, never desired
It to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft,
The passages made toward it. On my honour,
I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what moved 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 received a tenderness,
Scruple and prick, on certain speeches uttered
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'th'progress of this business,
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, entered me,
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast, which forced such way
That many mazed considerings did throng,
And pressed 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 conceived 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 aired them. Hence I took a thought
This was a judgment on me, that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o'th'world, should not
Be gladded in't by me. Then follows that
I weighed 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 learned. 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.
Lincoln Very well, my liege.
King Henry I have spoke long; be pleased yourself to say
How far you satisfied me.
Lincoln 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.
King Henry I then moved 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'th'world against the person
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons drives 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 paragoned o'th'world.
Campeius So please your highness,
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day:
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.
King Henry [Aside.] I may perceive
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
[Aloud.] My learned and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Prithee return; with thy approach, I know
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
I say, set on.
[Exeunt, in manner as they entered.
+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++
ACT 3.
Scene 1. The Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the Queen's Apartment.
Enter QUEEN and her WOMEN as at work.
Katharine Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;
Sing and disperse 'em, 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 music plants and flowers
Ever sprung, as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by:
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Enter a GENTLEMAN.
Katharine How now?
Gentleman And't please your grace, the two great cardinals
Wait in the presence.
Katharine Would they speak with me?
Gentleman They willed me say so, madam.
Katharine Pray their graces
To come near.
[Exit GENTLEMAN.
What can be their business
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 the two CARDINALS, Wolsey and Campeius.
Cardinal Peace to your highness!
Katharine Your graces find me here part of a housewife;
I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverent lords?
Cardinal May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber; we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.
Katharine 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 'em,
Envy and base opinion set against 'em,
I know my life so even. If your business
Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,
Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.
Cardinal Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima -
Katharine O good my lord, no latin;
I am not such a truant since my coming
As not to know the language I have lived in:
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious:
Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed
May be absolved in English.
Cardinal Noble lady,
I am sorry my integrity should breed
- And service to his majesty and you -
So deep suspicion where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow -
You have too much, good lady; but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you, and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions
And comforts to your cause.
Campeius Most honoured madam,
My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Both of his truth and him, which was too far,
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.
Katharine [Aside.] To betray me.
[Aloud.] 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!
Cardinal Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears,
Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Katharine In England
But little for my profit: can you think, lords,
That 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.
Campeius I would your grace
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
Katharine How, sir?
Campeius 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,
For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,
You'll part away disgraced.
Cardinal He tells you rightly.
Katharine Ye tell me what ye wish for both -my ruin:
Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye.
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge
That no king can corrupt.
Campeius Your rage mistakes us.
Katharine 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 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,
A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned?
I will not wish ye half my miseries,
I have more charity: but say I warned ye;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Cardinal Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Katharine Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye,
And all such false professors! Would you have,
If you have any justice, any pity,
If ye be anything but churchmen's habits,
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas, 'has banished 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.
Campeius Your fears are worse.
Katharine 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 vainglory,
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? Loved him next heaven? Obeyed 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 dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure,
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour -a great patience.
Cardinal Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
Katharine 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.
Cardinal Pray hear me.
Katharine 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?
Shipwracked upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me,
Almost no grave allowed me: like the lily
That once was mistress of the field and flourished,
I'll hang my head and perish.
Cardinal 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 'em:
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, peacemakers, friends and servants.
Campeius Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues
With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves 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.
Katharine Do what ye will, my lords; and pray forgive me
If I have used 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 2. Antechamber to the King's Apartment.
Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, LORD SURREY, and LORD CHAMBERLAIN.
Norfolk 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.
Surrey I am joyful
To meet the least occasion that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be revenged on him.
Suffolk Which of the peers
Have uncontemned gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? When did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person
Out of himself?
Chamberlain 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
Anything on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in's tongue.
Norfolk O, fear him not,
His spell in that is out: the king hath found
Matter against him that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Surrey Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.
Norfolk Believe it, this is true.
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears
As I would wish mine enemy.
Surrey How came
His practices to light?
Suffolk Most strangely.
Surrey O, how, how?
Suffolk The cardinal's letters to the Pope miscarried,
And came to the eye o'th'king, wherein was read
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgement o'th'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'.
Surrey Has the king this?
Suffolk Believe it.
Surrey Will this work?
Chamberlain 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.
Surrey Would he had!
Suffolk May you be happy in your wish, my lord,
For I profess you have it.
Surrey Now all my joy
Trace the conjunction!
Suffolk My amen to't!
Norfolk All men's!
Suffolk There's order given for her coronation:
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memorized.
Surrey But will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal's?
The Lord forbid!
Norfolk Marry, amen!
Suffolk 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'th'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.
Chamberlain Now God incense him,
And let him cry `Ha!' louder!
Norfolk But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer?
Suffolk He is returned 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 published, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be called queen, but princess dowager,
And widow to Prince Arthur.
Norfolk This same Cranmer's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.
Suffolk He has, and we shall see him
For it an archbishop.
Norfolk So I hear.
Suffolk 'Tis so.
Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.
The cardinal!
Norfolk Observe, observe, he's moody.
Cardinal The packet Cromwell, gave't you the king?
Cromwell To his own hand, in's bedchamber.
Cardinal Looked he o'th'inside of the paper?
Cromwell Presently
He did unseal them, and the first he viewed,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance. You he bade
Attend him here this morning.
Cardinal Is he ready
To come abroad?
Cromwell I think by this he is.
Cardinal Leave me awhile.
[Exit CROMWELL.
[Aside.] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,
The French king's sister: he shall marry her.
Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:
There's more in't than fair visage -Bullen!
No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
Norfolk He's discontented.
Suffolk May be he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.
Surrey Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice.
Cardinal [Aside.]
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 virtuous
And well-deserving? Yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i'th'bosom of
Our hard-ruled king. Again there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch-one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawled into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Norfolk He is vexed at something.
Surrey I would 'twere something that would fret the string,
The master-cord on's heart!
Enter KING reading a schedule, and LOVELL.
Suffolk The king, the king!
King Henry What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion! And what expense by the hour
Seems to flow from him! How i'th'name of thrift
Does he rake this together? Now, my lords,
Saw you the cardinal?
Norfolk 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.
King Henry It may well be,
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me, to peruse,
As I required: and wot you what I found
There, on my conscience put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing -
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, which
I find at such proud rate that it outspeaks
Possession of a subject.
Norfolk It's heaven's will.
Some spirit put this paper in the packet
To bless your eye withal.
King Henry If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth
And fixed on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings; but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.
KING takes his seat, whispers LOVELL, who goes to the CARDINAL.
Cardinal Heaven forgive me!
Ever God bless your highness!
King Henry Good my lord,
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.
Cardinal Sir,
For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business which
I bear i'th'state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which perforce
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
King Henry You have said well.
Cardinal And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying.
King Henry 'Tis well said again,
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father loved 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
Employed you where high profits might come home,
But pared my present havings to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Cardinal What should this mean?
Surrey [Aside.] The Lord increase this business!
King Henry 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?
Cardinal My sovereign, I confess your royal graces
Showered 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 filed with my abilities. Mine own ends
Have been mine so, that ever more they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heaped 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.
King Henry Fairly answered;
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated; the honour of it
Does pay the act of it, as, i'th'contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume
That as my hand has opened bounty to you,
My heart dropped love, my power rained honour, more
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.
Cardinal I do profess,
That for your highness' good I ever laboured
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 'em, and
Appear in forms more horrid -yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.
King Henry 'Tis nobly spoken,
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.
[Giving him papers.
Read o'er this,
And after, this: and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.
[Exit KING HENRY frowning upon the CARDINAL; the NOBLES throng after him
smiling and whispering.
Cardinal What should this mean?
What sudden anger's this? How have I reaped it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leaped from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has galled 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's holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touched 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 to WOLSEY, the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the Earl of SURREY, and
the LORD CHAMBERLAIN.
Norfolk 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.
Cardinal Stay!
Where's your commission, lords? Words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Suffolk Who dare cross 'em,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Cardinal 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 everything may bring my ruin!
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have Christian warrant for 'em, 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?
Surrey The king that gave it.
Cardinal It must be himself then.
Surrey Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Cardinal Proud lord, thou liest.
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Surrey Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, robbed 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 -
Weighed 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,
Absolved him with an axe.
Cardinal 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 loved many words, lord, I should tell you
You have as little honesty as honour,
That 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.
Surrey By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel
My sword i'th'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.
Cardinal All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.
Surrey 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 goodness,
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 despised 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.
Cardinal How much methinks, I could despise this man,
But that I am bound in charity against it.
Norfolk Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand;
But thus much, they are foul ones.
Cardinal So much fairer
And spotless shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.
Surrey This cannot save you:
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles, and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush, and cry `guilty', cardinal,
You'll show a little honesty.
Cardinal Speak on, sir;
I dare your worst objections; if I blush,
It is to see a nobleman want manners.
Surrey I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!
First, that without the king's assent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate, by which power
You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Norfolk Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.
Suffolk Then, that without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
Surrey Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,
Without the king's will or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.
Suffolk That, out of mere ambition, you have caused
Your holy hat to be stamped on the king's coin.
Surrey Then, that you have sent innumerable substance,
By what means got I leave to your own conscience,
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are,
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Chamberlain 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.
Surrey I forgive him.
Suffolk Lord Cardinal, the king's further pleasure is -
Because all those things you have done of late,
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a praemunire -
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.
Norfolk 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.
Cardinal So farewell, to the little good you bear me.
Farewell! A long farewell to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; today he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, tomorrow 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
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
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 opened. 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, standing amazed.
Why, how now, Cromwell!
Cromwell I have no power to speak, sir.
Cardinal What, amazed
At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fall'n indeed.
Cromwell How does your grace?
Cardinal Why, well;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell;
I know myself now, and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruined 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.
Cromwell I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.
Cardinal 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?
Cromwell The heaviest and the worst
Is your displeasure with the king.
Cardinal God bless him!
Cromwell The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen
Lord Chancellor in your place.
Cardinal 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 him.
What more?
Cromwell That Cranmer is returned with welcome,
Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Cardinal That's news indeed.
Cromwell Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was viewed in open as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.
Cardinal There was the weight that pulled 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 fall'n 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.
Cromwell 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.
Cardinal Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries, but thou hast forced 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 thee;
Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
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 it?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
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, prithee, 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 served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Cromwell Good sir, have patience.
Cardinal So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! -my hopes in heaven do dwell.
[Exeunt.
+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++
ACT 4.
Scene 1. A Street in Westminster.
Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting one another.
1st Gentleman You're well met once again.
2nd Gentleman So are you.
1st Gentleman You come to take your stand here, and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
2nd Gentleman 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1st Gentleman 'Tis very true: but that time offered sorrow,
This general joy.
2nd Gentleman 'Tis well: the citizens,
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds,
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward,
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
1st Gentleman Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2nd Gentleman May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?
1st Gentleman 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 earl marshal: you may read the rest.
2nd Gentleman I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs,
I should have been beholding to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? How goes her business?
1st Gentleman 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
She was often cited by them, but appeared not:
And to be short, for not appearance and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men, she was divorced
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.
2nd Gentleman Alas good lady!
[Trumpets.
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.
[Hautboys.
THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION.
1 A lively flourish of trumpets.
2 Then, two JUDGES.
3 LORD CHANCELLOR, with the purse and mace before him.
4 CHORISTERS singing. Music.
5 MAYOR OF LONDON, bearing the mace. Then GARTER, in his coat of arms,
and on his head he wore a gilt copper crown.
6 MARQUESS DORSET, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a
demi-coronal of gold. With him, the EARL OF SURREY, bearing the rod of silver
with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of Esses.
7 DUKE OF SUFFOLK, in his robe of Estate, his coronet on his head,
bearing a long white wand, as High-steward. With him, the DUKE OF NORFOLK,
with the rod of Marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of Esses.
8 A canopy, born by four of the CINQUE-PORTS, under it the QUEEN in
her robe; in her hair, richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her,
the Bishops of LONDON and WINCHESTER.
9 The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold, wrought with
flowers, bearing the queen's train.
10 CERTAIN LADIES or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without
flowers.
Exeunt, first passing over the stage in order and state, and then, a great
flourish of trumpets.
2nd Gentleman A royal train, believe me. These I know;
Who's that that bears the sceptre?
1st Gentleman Marquess Dorset,
And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod.
2nd Gentleman A bold brave gentleman. That should be
The Duke of Suffolk.
1st Gentleman 'Tis the same: high-steward.
2nd Gentleman And that my Lord of Norfolk?
1st Gentleman Yes.
2nd Gentleman [Looking on the Queen.] Heaven bless thee!
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on.
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady:
I cannot blame his conscience.
1st Gentleman They that bear
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.
2nd Gentleman Those men are happy, and so are all are near her.
I take it she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
1st Gentleman It is, and all the rest are countesses.
2nd Gentleman Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;
And sometimes falling ones.
1st Gentleman No more of that.
Enter a 3rd GENTLEMAN.
1st Gentleman God save you sir! Where have you been broiling?
3rd Gentleman Among the crowd i'th'abbey, where a finger
Could not be wedged in more: I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.
2nd Gentleman You saw
The ceremony?
3rd Gentleman That I did.
1st Gentleman How was it?
3rd Gentleman Well worth the seeing.
2nd Gentleman Good sir, speak it to us.
3rd Gentleman As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepared place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up, and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say `This is my wife' there, all were woven
So strangely in one piece.
2nd Gentleman But what followed?
3rd Gentleman At length her grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saintlike
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly:
Then rose again and bowed her to the people:
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
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 performed, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state paced back again
To York Place, where the feast is held.
1st Gentleman Sir, you must no more call it York Place; that's past;
For since the cardinal fell, that title's lost.
'Tis now the king's, and called Whitehall.
3rd Gentleman I know it;
But 'tis so lately altered that the old name
Is fresh about me.
2nd Gentleman What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen?
3rd Gentleman Stokesly and Gardiner, the one of Winchester,
Newly preferred from the king's secretary;
The other, London.
2nd Gentleman He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.
3rd Gentleman All the land knows that:
However, yet there is no great breach; when it comes,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.
2nd Gentleman Who may that be, I pray you?
3rd Gentleman Thomas Cromwell,
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
A worthy friend. The king
Has made him master o'th'jewel-house,
And one, already, of the privy council.
2nd Gentleman He will deserve more.
3rd Gentleman Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests:
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.
1st & 2nd
Gentlemen You may command us, sir.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 2. Kimbolton.
Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick, led between GRIFFITH, her Gentleman-Usher, and
PATIENCE her woman.
Griffith How does your grace?
Katharine O Griffith, sick to death!
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair:
So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?
Griffith Yes madam; but I think your grace,
Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to't.
Katharine Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died.
If well, he stepped before me, happily,
For my example.
Griffith Well, the voice goes, madam,
For after the stout Earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
He could not sit his mule.
Katharine Alas poor man!
Griffith At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend abbot,
With all his covent, honourably received him:
To whom he gave these words: `O, father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
Give him a little earth for charity'.
So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still, and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Katharine So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him:
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
Tied all the kingdom; simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law; i'th'presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful;
His promises were, as he then was, mighty,
But his performance, as he is now, nothing:
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
Griffith Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass, their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?
Katharine Yes, good Griffith,
I were malicious else.
Griffith This cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely. Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford; one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it,
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him,
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Katharine After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him!
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower;
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.
[Sad and solemn music.
Griffith She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
THE VISION
Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six PERSONAGES clad in white
robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their
faces, branches of bays or palm in their hands.
They first congee unto her, then dance; and at certain changes the first two
hold a spare garland over her head, at which the other four make reverend
curtsies.
Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who
observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head.
Which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise
observe the same order.
At which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep, signs of
rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven.
And so, in their dancing, vanish, carrying the garland with them.
The music continues.
Katharine Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Griffith Madam, we are here.
Katharine It is not you I call for:
Saw ye none enter since I slept?
Griffith None, madam.
Katharine No? Saw you not even now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promised me eternal happiness,
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall assuredly.
Griffith I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy.
Katharine Bid the music leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me.
[Music ceases.
Patience Do you note
How much her grace is altered on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold! Mark her eyes!
Griffith She is going, wench. Pray, pray.
Patience Heaven comfort her!
Enter a MESSENGER.
Messenger And't like your grace -
Katharine You are a saucy fellow.
Deserve we no more reverence?
Griffith You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.
Messenger I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon,
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Katharine Admit him entrance Griffith: but this fellow
Let me ne'er see again.
[Exit MESSENGER.
Enter LORD CAPUCIUS.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Capucius Madam, the same; your servant.
Katharine O my lord,
The times and titles now are altered strangely
With me, since first you knew me. But I pray you,
What is your pleasure with me?
Capucius Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace; the next
The king's request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Katharine O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
'Tis like a pardon after execution:
That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me,
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
How does his highness?
Capucius Madam, in good health.
Katharine So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banished the kingdom. Patience, is that letter
I caused you write, yet sent away?
Patience No, madam.
[Gives letter.
Katharine Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.
Capucius Most willing, madam.
Katharine In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter,
- The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! -
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding,
She is young and of a noble modest nature,
I hope she will deserve well, and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that loved him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have followed both my fortunes faithfully,
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
And now I should not lie, but will deserve
For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a noble;
And sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
The last is for my men -they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me -
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
And something over to remember me by.
If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents, and, good my lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.
Capucius By heaven I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
Katharine I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him in death I blessed him,
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell
My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay Patience,
You must not leave me yet: I must to bed;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be used with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although unqueened, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.
[Exeunt leading KATHARINE.
+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++
ACT 5.
Scene 1. London. A Gallery in the Palace.
Enter GARDINER Bishop of Winchester, a PAGE with a torch before him, met by
SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
Gardiner It's one a'clock boy, is't not?
Page It hath struck.
Gardiner These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!
Whither so late?
Lovell Came you from the king, my lord?
Gardiner I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lovell I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gardiner Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
It seems you are in haste; an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: affairs that walk,
As they say spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks despatch by day.
Lovell My lord, I love you,
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,
They say, in great extremity, and feared
She'll with the labour end.
Gardiner The fruit she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
I wish it grubbed up now.
Lovell Methinks I could
Cry the amen, and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
Gardiner But sir, sir,
Hear me Sir Thomas, you're a gentleman
Of mine own way: I know you wise, religious,
And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
'Twill not Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
Lovell Now sir, you speak of two
The most remarked i'th'kingdom: as for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
O'th'rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him. The archbishop
Is the king's hand and tongue, and who dare speak
One syllable against him?
Gardiner Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incensed the lords o'th'council that he is
- For so I know he is, they know he is -
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint -of his great grace
And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him -hath commanded
Tomorrow morning to the council board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
Lovell Many good nights, my lord. I rest your servant.
[Exit GARDINER and PAGE.
Enter KING and SUFFOLK.
King Henry Charles, I will play no more tonight,
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suffolk Sir, I did never win of you before.
King Henry But little, Charles,
Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lovell I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message, who returned her thanks
In the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.
King Henry What sayst thou, ha?
To pray for her? What, is she crying out?
Lovell So said her woman, and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death.
King Henry Alas good lady!
Suffolk God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir.
King Henry 'Tis midnight Charles;
Prithee to bed, and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone,
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.
Suffolk I wish your highness
A quiet night; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
King Henry Charles, good night.
[Exit SUFFOLK.
Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY.
Well sir, what follows?
Denny Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
As you commanded me.
King Henry Ha? Canterbury?
Denny Ay, my good lord.
King Henry 'Tis true: where is he, Denny?
Denny He attends your highness' pleasure.
King Henry Bring him to us.
[Exit DENNY.
Lovell [Aside.] This is about that which the bishop spake;
I am happily come hither.
Enter CRANMER and DENNY.
King Henry Avoid the gallery.
[LOVELL seems to stay.
Ha? I have said. Be gone. What!
[Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.
Cranmer [Aside.] I am fearful. Wherefore frowns he thus?
'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
King Henry How now, my lord! You do desire to know
Wherefore I sent for you.
Cranmer [Kneeling.] It is my duty
T'attend your highness' pleasure.
King Henry Pray you, arise,
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
I have news to tell you. Come, come give me your hand.
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows.
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being considered,
Have moved us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us, where I know
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: you, a brother of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
Cranmer [Kneeling.] I humbly thank your highness,
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnowed, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder; for I know
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues
Than I myself, poor man.
King Henry Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up;
Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I looked
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you
Without indurance further.
Cranmer Most dread liege,
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty:
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person, which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
King Henry Know you not
How your state stands i'th'world, with the whole world?
Your enemies are many, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion, and not ever
The justice and the truth o'th'question carries
The due o'th'verdict with it. At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? Such things have been done.
You are potently opposed, and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean in perjured witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.
Cranmer God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence; or I fall into
The trap is laid for me.
King Henry Be of good cheer,
They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you, and this morning see
You do appear before them. If they shall chance,
In charging you with matters to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you. If entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them. Look, the good man weeps;
He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!
I swear he is true-hearted, and a soul
None better in my kingdom. Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you.
[Exit CRANMER.
He has strangled
His language in his tears.
Enter OLD LADY.
Gentleman [Within.] Come back: what mean you?
Old Lady I'll not come back, the tidings that I bring
Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings!
King Henry Now by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen delivered?
Say ay, and of a boy.
Old Lady Ay, ay, my liege,
And of a lovely boy. The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her! 'Tis a girl
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you
As cherry is to cherry.
King Henry Lovell!
Re-enter LOVELL.
Lovell Sir.
King Henry Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen.
[Exit KING.
Old Lady An hundred marks? By this light, I'll ha' more.
An ordinary groom is for such payment:
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this the girl was like to him? I'll
Have more, or else unsay't; and now, while 'tis hot,
I'll put it to the issue.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 2. The Lobby before the Council-Chamber.
Enter CRANMER Archbishop of Canterbury, PURSUIVANTS, PAGES, and FOOTBOYS
attending.
Cranmer I hope I am not too late, and yet the gentleman
That was sent to me from the council prayed me
To make great haste. All fast? What means this? Ho!
Who waits there?
Enter KEEPER.
Sure, you know me?
Keeper Yes, my lord,
But yet I cannot help you.
Cranmer Why?
Keeper Your grace must wait till you be called for.
Enter DOCTOR BUTTS.
Cranmer So.
Butts [Aside.] This is a piece of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily. The king
Shall understand it presently.
[Exit.
Cranmer [Aside.] 'Tis Butts,
The king's physician. As he passed along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me:
Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace! For certain
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me -
God turn their hearts! -I never sought their malice,
To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me
Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor,
'Mong boys, grooms and lackeys. But their pleasures
Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.
Enter the KING and BUTTS at a window above.
Butts I'll show your grace the strangest sight.
King Henry What's that, Butts?
Butts I think your highness saw this many a day.
King Henry Body o'me, where is it?
Butts There, my lord,
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.
King Henry Ha! 'Tis he indeed.
Is this the honour they do one another?
'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought
They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
At least good manners, as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery!
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close:
We shall hear more anon.
[They draw the curtain, and spy from behind.
ITALIC ON[ + + + + + + Scene 3. The Council-Chamber. ]
A council-table brought in with chairs and stools, and placed under the state.
Enter LORD CHANCELLOR, places himself at the upper end of the table, on the
left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's seat.
Duke of SUFFOLK, Duke of NORFOLK, SURREY, LORD CHAMBERLAIN, GARDINER, seat
themselves in order on each side.
CROMWELL at the lower end, as secretary.
Chancellor Speak to the business, master secretary;
Why are we met in council?
Cromwell Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gardiner Has he had knowledge of it?
Cromwell Yes.
Norfolk Who waits there?
Keeper Without, my noble lords?
Gardiner Yes.
Keeper My lord archbishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chancellor Let him come in.
Keeper Your grace may enter now.
CRANMER approaches the council-table.
Chancellor My good lord archbishop, I'm very sorry
To sit here at this present and behold
That chair stand empty; but we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable
Of our flesh -few are angels -out of which frailty
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us
Have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little;
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm by your teaching and your chaplains
- For so we are informed -with new opinions,
Divers and dangerous; which are heresies,
And, not reformed, may prove pernicious.
Gardiner Which reformation must be sudden too,
My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer,
Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic: and what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state, as, of late days our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
Cranmer My good lords, hitherto in all the progress,
Both of my life and office, I have laboured,
And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely; and the end
Was ever to do well: nor is there living,
I speak it with a single heart, my lords,
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
Pray heaven the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships
That in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.
Suffolk Nay, my lord,
That cannot be: you are a counsellor,
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.
Gardiner My lord, because we have business of more moment,
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cranmer Ah my good lord of Winchester, I thank you,
You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful. I see your end,
'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition:
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Gardiner My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Cromwell My lord of Winchester, you're a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty
To load a falling man.
Gardiner Good master secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
Cromwell Why, my lord?
Gardiner Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.
Cromwell Not sound?
Gardiner Not sound I say.
Cromwell Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
Gardiner I shall remember this bold language.
Cromwell Do.
Remember your bold life too.
Chancellor This is too much;
Forbear for shame, my lords.
Gardiner I have done.
Cromwell And I.
Chancellor Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed
I take it, by all voices; that forthwith
You be conveyed to the Tower a prisoner,
There to remain till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?
All We are.
Cranmer Is there no other way of mercy
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?
Gardiner What other
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.
Let some o'th'guard be ready there.
Enter the GUARD.
Cranmer For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?
Gardiner Receive him,
And see him safe i'th'Tower.
Cranmer Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Chamberlain This is the king's ring.
Surrey 'Tis no counterfeit.
Suffolk 'Tis the right ring, by heaven! I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.
Norfolk Do you think, my lords,
The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vexed?
Chamberlain 'Tis now too certain;
How much more is his life in value with him?
Would I were fairly out on't.
Cromwell My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man, whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,
Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye!
Enter KING frowning on them; takes his seat.
Gardiner Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise, but most religious:
One that in all obedience, makes the Church
The chief aim of his honour, and, to strengthen
That holy duty out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgement comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
King Henry You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester; but know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
They are too thin and base to hide offences:
To me you cannot reach. You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.
[To CRANMER.]
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.
By all that's holy, he had better starve
Than but once think his place becomes thee not.
Surrey May it please your grace -
King Henry No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some understanding
And wisdom of my council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man -few of you deserve that title -
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber-door? And one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean,
Which ye shall never have while I live.
Chancellor Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather -
If there be faith in men -meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice,
I'm sure, in me.
King Henry Well, well, my lords, respect him;
Take him and use him well, he's worthy of it.
I will say thus much for him, if a prince
May be beholding to a subject, I
Am for his love and service, so to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him:
Be friends, for shame, my lords! My lord of Canterbury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cranmer The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour: how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?
King Henry Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You shall have two
noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset:
will these please you?
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace and love this man.
Gardiner With a true heart
And brother-love I do it.
Cranmer And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
King Henry Good man! Those joyful tears show thy true heart:
The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus: `Do my lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he's your friend for ever'.
Come, lords, we trifle time away. I long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 3. The Palace-Yard.
Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN.
Porter You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take the court for
Parish-garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
One Within Good master porter, I belong to th' larder.
Porter Belong to th' gallows and be hanged, ye rogue! Is this a place to
roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but
switches to 'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings! Do
you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
Man Pray sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible,
Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons,
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning, which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
Porter How got they in, and be hanged?
Man Alas I know not; how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot -
You see the poor remainder -could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
Porter You did nothing, sir.
Man I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow 'em down before me; but if I spared any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
One Within Do you hear, master porter?
Porter I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.
Keep the door close sirrah.
Man What would you have me do?
Porter What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this
Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool
come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is
at door! On my Christian conscience this one christening will beget a
thousand: here will be father, godfather, and all together.
Man The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the
door -he should be a brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty of the
dog-days now reign in's nose: all that stand about him are under the line,
they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head,
and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there like a
mortar-piece to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him,
that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling
such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman,
who cried out "Clubs!", when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw
to her succour, which were the hope o'th'Strand, where she was quartered. They
fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I
defied 'em still, when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,
delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in and
let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em I think surely.
Porter These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for
bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill, or the
limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of
'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days;
besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.
Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN.
Chamberlain Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here!
They grow still too; from all parts they are coming,
As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,
These lazy knaves? Ye've made a fine hand, fellows!
There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these
Your faithful friends o'th'suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
Porter And't please your honour,
We are but men, and what so many may do,
Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.
An army cannot rule 'em.
Chamberlain As I live,
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect. Ye're lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound!
They're come already from the christening.
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
Porter Make way there for the princess.
Man You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.
Porter You i'th'camlet, get up o'th'rail:
I'll peck you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt.
+ + + + + +
Scene 4. The Palace.
Enter TRUMPETS, sounding.
Then two ALDERMEN, LORD MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK with his
marshal's staff, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, two NOBLEMEN bearing great standing-bowls
for the christening gifts.
Then four NOBLEMEN bearing a canopy, under which the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK,
godmother, bearing the CHILD richly habited in a mantle, &c., Train borne by a
LADY.
Then follows the MARCHIONESS DORSET, the other godmother, and LADIES.
The troop pass once about the stage, and GARTER speaks.
Garter Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and
ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.
Flourish. Enter KING and GUARD.
Cranmer [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and the good queen,
My noble partners and myself thus pray:
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye.
King Henry Thank you good lord archbishop:
What is her name?
Cranmer Elizabeth.
King Henry Stand up, lord.
[KING kisses the child.
With this kiss take my blessing. God protect thee,
Into whose hand I give thy life.
Cranmer Amen.
King Henry My noble gossips, ye've been too prodigal;
I thank ye heartily: so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cranmer Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant -heaven still move about her! -
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be
- But few now living can behold that goodness -
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed. Saba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her;
She shall be loved and feared; her own shall bless her;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with her.
In her days every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants, and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
God shall be truly known, and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir
As great in admiration as herself,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness)
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall starlike rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fixed. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him: our children's children
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
King Henry Thou speakest wonders.
Cranmer She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more! -but she must die,
- She must, the saints must have her -yet a virgin;
A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
King Henry O lord archbishop,
Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
This happy child, did I get anything.
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me
That when I am in heaven I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have received much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords,
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye;
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday.
[Exeunt.
THE EPILOGUE
Epilogue 'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease
And sleep an hour or two; but those, we fear,
We've frighted with our trumpets, so 'tis clear
They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
Abused extremely, and to cry `That's witty!'
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we're like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we showed 'em: if they smile,
And say 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
[Exit.