Norf. Let's in;And with some other busines, put the KingFrom these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him:My Lord, youle beare vs company?Cham. Excuse me,The King ha's sent me otherwhere: BesidesYou'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him:Health to your Lordships
Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sitsreadingpensiuely.
Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted
Kin. Who's there? Ha?Norff. Pray God he be not angry
Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your seluesInto my priuate Meditations?Who am I? Ha?Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offencesMalice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way,Is businesse of Estate; in which, we comeTo know your Royall pleasure
Kin. Ye are too bold:Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.
Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey,The quiet of my wounded Conscience;Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcomeMost learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,I be not found a Talker
Wol. Sir, you cannot;I would your Grace would giue vs but an houreOf priuate conference
Kin. We are busie; goe
Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him?Suff. Not to speake of:I would not be so sicke though for his place:But this cannot continue
Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him
Suff. I another.
Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.
Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedomeAboue all Princes, in committing freelyYour scruple to the voyce of Christendome:Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you?The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her,Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse,The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes,(I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes)Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement)Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sentOne generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius,Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse
Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome,And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues,They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for
Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues,You are so Noble: To your Highnesse handI tender my Commission; by whose vertue,The Court of Rome commanding. You my LordCardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant,In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse
Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquaintedForthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd herSo deare in heart, not to deny her thatA Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law;Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her
Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauourTo him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall,Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary.I find him a fit fellow.Enter Gardiner.
Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;You are the Kings now
Gard. But to be commandedFor euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me
Kin. Come hither Gardiner.
Walkes and whispers.
Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor PaceIn this mans place before him?Wol. Yes, he was
Camp. Was he not held a learned man?Wol. Yes surely
Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall
Wol. How? of me?Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him;And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous)Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him,That he ran mad, and dide
Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him:That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers,There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole;For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow,If I command him followes my appointment,I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother,We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons
Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.
Exit Gardiner.
The most conuenient place, that I can thinke ofFor such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers:There ye shall meete about this waighty busines.My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord,Would it not grieue an able man to leaueSo sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience;O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and sheSo good a Lady, that no Tongue could euerPronounce dishonour of her; by my life,She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now afterSo many courses of the Sun enthroaned,Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the whichTo leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe.To giue her the auaunt, it is a pittyWould moue a Monster
Old La. Hearts of most hard temperMelt and lament for her
An. Oh Gods will, much betterShe ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorceIt from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, pangingAs soule and bodies seuering
Old L. Alas poore Lady,Shee's a stranger now againe
An. So much the moreMust pitty drop vpon her; verilyI sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,And range with humble liuers in Content,Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe,And weare a golden sorrow
Old L. Our contentIs our best hauing
Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,I would not be a Queene
Old.L. Beshrew me, I would,And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would youFor all this spice of your Hipocrisie:You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yetAffected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts(Sauing your mincing) the capacityOf your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue,If you might please to stretch it
Anne. Nay, good troth
Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen
Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire meOld as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbsTo beare that load of Title?An. No in truth
Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,I would not be a young Count in your way,For more then blushing comes to: If your backeCannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weakeEuer to get a Boy
An. How you doe talke;I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,For all the world
Old.L. In faith, for little EnglandYou'ld venture an emballing: I my selfeWould for Carnaruanshire, although there long'dNo more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to knowThe secret of your conference?An. My good Lord,Not your demand; it values not your asking:Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying
Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becommingThe action of good women, there is hopeAll will be well
An. Now I pray God, Amen
Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessingsFollow such Creatures. That you may, faire LadyPerceiue I speake sincerely, and high notesTane of your many vertues; the Kings MaiestyCommends his good opinion of you, to you; andDoe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing,Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title,A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support,Out of his Grace, he addes
An. I doe not knowWhat kinde of my obedience, I should tender;More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my PrayersAre not words duely hallowed; nor my WishesMore worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & WishesAre all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship,Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience,As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse;Whose health and Royalty I pray for
Cham. Lady;I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceitThe King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yetBut from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King,And say I spoke with you.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine.
An. My honour'd Lord
Old.L. Why this it is: See, see,I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court(Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor couldCome pat betwixt too early, and too lateFor any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vponThis compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,Before you open it
An. This is strange to me
Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)That would not be a Queene, that would she notFor all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?An. Come you are pleasant
Old.L. With your Theame, I couldO're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?No other obligation? by my Life,That promises mo thousands: Honours traineIs longer then his fore-skirt; by this timeI know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,Are you not stronger then you were?An. Good Lady,Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,And leaue me out on't. Would I had no beingIf this salute my blood a iot; it faints meTo thinke what followes.The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfullIn our long absence: pray doe not deliuer,What heere y'haue heard to her
Old L. What doe you thinke me -
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with shortsiluerwands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them,theBishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne,Ely,Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some smalldistance,followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, andaCardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse:Then aGentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant atArmes, bearinga Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great SiluerPillers: Afterthem, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with theSword andMace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The twoCardinallssit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distancefrom theKing. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court inmanner of aConsistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next theBishops. Therest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.
Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read,Let silence be commanded
King. What's the need?It hath already publiquely bene read,And on all sides th' Authority allow'd,You may then spare that time
Car. Bee't so, proceed
Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court
Crier. Henry King of England, &c
King. Heere
Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England,Come into the Court
Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.
The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes abouttheCourt, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.
Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice,And to bestow your pitty on me; forI am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger,Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heereNo Iudge indifferent, nor no more assuranceOf equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir:In what haue I offended you? What causeHath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure,That thus you should proceede to put me off,And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse,I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife,At all times to your will conformable:Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike,Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry,As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houreI euer contradicted your Desire?Or made it not mine too? Or which of your FriendsHaue I not stroue to loue, although I knewHe were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did IContinue in my Liking? Nay, gaue noticeHe was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde,That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience,Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blestWith many Children by you. If in the courseAnd processe of this time, you can report,And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught;My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and DutieAgainst your Sacred Person; in Gods nameTurne me away: and let the fowl'st ContemptShut doore vpon me, and so giue me vpTo the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir,The King your Father, was reputed forA Prince most Prudent; of an excellentAnd vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. FerdinandMy Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd oneThe wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by manyA yeare before. It is not to be question'd,That they had gather'd a wise Councell to themOf euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse,Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humblyBeseech you Sir, to spare me, till I mayBe by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose CounsaileI will implore. If not, i'th' name of GodYour pleasure be fulfill'd
Wol. You haue heere Lady,(And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, menOf singular Integrity, and Learning;Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembledTo pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse,That longer you desire the Court, as wellFor your owne quiet, as to rectifieWhat is vnsetled in the King
Camp. His GraceHath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam,It's fit this Royall Session do proceed,And that (without delay) their ArgumentsBe now produc'd, and heard
Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake
Wol. Your pleasure, Madam
Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking thatWe are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaineThe daughter of a King, my drops of teares,Ile turne to sparkes of fire
Wol. Be patient yet
Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before,Or God will punish me. I do beleeue(Induc'd by potent Circumstances) thatYou are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge,You shall not be my Iudge. For it is youHaue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;(Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe,I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my SouleRefuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once moreI hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke notAt all a Friend to truth
Wol. I do professeYou speake not like your selfe: who euer yetHaue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effectsOf disposition gentle, and of wisedome,Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrongI haue no Spleene against you, nor iniusticeFor you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,Or how farre further (Shall) is warrantedBy a Commission from the Consistorie,Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me,That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it,The King is present: If it be knowne to him,That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound,And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as muchAs you haue done my Truth. If he knowThat I am free of your Report, he knowesI am not of your wrong. Therefore in himIt lies to cure me, and the Cure is toRemoue these Thoughts from you. The which beforeHis Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseechYou (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking,And to say so no more
Queen. My Lord, My Lord,I am a simple woman, much too weakeT' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'dYou signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming,With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your HeartIs cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride.You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors,Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mountedWhere Powres are your Retainers, and your words(Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't pleaseYour selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you,You tender more your persons Honor, thenYour high profession Spirituall. That agenI do refuse you for my Iudge, and heereBefore you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse,And to be iudg'd by him.
She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.
Camp. The Queene is obstinate,Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, andDisdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well.Shee's going away
Kin. Call her againe
Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court
Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe
Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way,When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on;I will not tarry: no, nor euer moreVpon this businesse my appearance make,In any of their Courts.
Exit Queene, and her Attendants.
Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha'sA better Wife, let him in naught be trusted,For speaking false in that; thou art alone(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse,Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment,Obeying in commanding, and thy partsSoueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out)The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne;And like her true Nobility, she ha'sCarried her selfe towards me
Wol. Most gracious Sir,In humblest manner I require your Highnes,That it shall please you to declare in hearingOf all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,There must I be vnloos'd, although not thereAt once, and fully satisfide) whether euer IDid broach this busines to your Highnes, orLaid any scruple in your way, which mightInduce you to the question on't: or euerHaue to you, but with thankes to God for suchA Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that mightBe to the preiudice of her present State,Or touch of her good Person?Kin. My Lord Cardinall,I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour,I free you from't: You are not to be taughtThat you haue many enemies, that know notWhy they are so; but like to Village Curres,Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of theseThe Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd:But will you be more iustifi'de? You euerHaue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'dIt to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oftThe passages made toward it; on my Honour,I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point;And thus farre cleare him.Now, what mou'd me too't,I will be bold with time and your attention:Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't:My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes,Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'dBy th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador,Who had beene hither sent on the debatingAnd Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, andOur Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines,Ere a determinate resolution, hee(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite,Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise,Whether our Daughter were legitimate,Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager,Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shookeThe bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me;Yea, with a spitting power, and made to trembleThe region of my Breast, which forc'd such way,That many maz'd considerings, did throngAnd prest in with this Caution. First, me thoughtI stood not in the smile of Heauen, who hadCommanded Nature, that my Ladies wombeIf it conceiu'd a male-child by me, shouldDoe no more Offices of life too't; thenThe Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue,Or di'de where they were made, or shortly afterThis world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought,This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome(Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should notBe gladded in't by me. Then followes, thatI weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood inBy this my Issues faile, and that gaue to meMany a groaning throw: thus hulling inThe wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steereToward this remedy, whereupon we areNow present heere together: that's to say,I meant to rectifie my Conscience, whichI then did feele full sicke, and yet not well,By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land,And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate,With you my Lord of Lincolne; you rememberHow vnder my oppression I did reekeWhen I first mou'd you
B.Lin. Very well my Liedge
Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to sayHow farre you satisfide me
Lin. So please your Highnes,The question did at first so stagger me,Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,And consequence of dread, that I committedThe daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt,And did entreate your Highnes to this course,Which you are running heere
Kin. I then mou'd you,My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaueTo make this present Summons vnsolicited.I left no Reuerend Person in this Court;But by particular consent proceededVnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on,For no dislike i'th' world against the personOf the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny pointsOf my alleadged reasons, driues this forward:Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my LifeAnd Kingly Dignity, we are contentedTo weare our mortall State to come, with her,(Katherine our Queene) before the primest CreatureThat's Parragon'd o'th' World
Camp. So please your Highnes,The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse,That we adiourne this Court till further day;Meane while, must be an earnest motionMade to the Queene to call backe her AppealeShe intends vnto his Holinesse
Kin. I may perceiueThese Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorreThis dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome.My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer,Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know,My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court;I say, set on.
Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.
Queen. Take thy Lute wench,My Soule growes sad with troubles,Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.
Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,And the Mountaine tops that freeze,Bow themselues when he did sing.To his Musicke, Plants and FlowersEuer sprung; as Sunne and Showers,There had made a lasting Spring.Euery thing that heard him play,Euen the Billowes of the Sea,Hung their heads, & then lay by.In sweet Musicke is such Art,Killing care, & griefe of heart,Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.Enter a Gentleman.
Queen. How now?Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great CardinalsWait in the presence
Queen. Would they speake with me?Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam
Queen. Pray their GracesTo come neere: what can be their businesWith me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour?I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't,They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous:But all Hoods, make not Monkes.Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.
Wols. Peace to your Highnesse
Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife,(I would be all) against the worst may happen:What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords?Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdrawInto your priuate Chamber; we shall giue youThe full cause of our comming
Queen. Speake it heere.There's nothing I haue done yet o' my ConscienceDeserues a Corner: would all other WomenCould speake this with as free a Soule as I doe.My Lords, I care not (so much I am happyAboue a number) if my actionsWere tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em,Enuy and base opinion set against 'em,I know my life so euen. If your businesSeeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing
Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima
Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin;I am not such a Truant since my comming,As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in:A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious:Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you,If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake;Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall,The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed,May be absolu'd in English
Card. Noble Lady,I am sorry my integrity should breed,(And seruice to his Maiesty and you)So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant;We come not by the way of Accusation,To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses;Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;You haue too much good Lady: But to knowHow you stand minded in the waighty differenceBetweene the King and you, and to deliuer(Like free and honest men) our iust opinions,And comforts to our cause
Camp. Most honour'd Madam,My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature,Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace,Forgetting (like a good man) your late CensureBoth of his truth and him (which was too farre)Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace,His Seruice, and his Counsell
Queen. To betray me.My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills,Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so)But how to make ye sodainly an AnswereIn such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour,(More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit;And to such men of grauity and learning;In truth I know not. I was set at worke,Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) lookingEither for such men, or such businesse;For her sake that I haue beene, for I feeleThe last fit of my Greatnesse; good your GracesLet me haue time and Councell for my Cause:Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse
Wol. Madam,You wrong the Kings loue with these feares,Your hopes and friends are infinite
Queen. In England,But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,That any English man dare giue me Councell?Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure,(Though he be growne so desperate to be honest)And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends,They that must weigh out my afflictions,They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere,They are (as all my other comforts) far henceIn mine owne Countrey Lords
Camp. I would your GraceWould leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell
Queen. How Sir?Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection,Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much,Both for your Honour better, and your Cause:For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye,You'l part away disgrac'd
Wol. He tels you rightly
Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine:Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye.Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge,That no King can corrupt
Camp. Your rage mistakes vs
Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye,Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues:But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye:Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort?The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady?A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd?I will not wish ye halfe my miseries,I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye;Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at onceThe burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye
Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction,You turne the good we offer, into enuy
Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye,And all such false Professors. Would you haue me(If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty,If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits)Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me?Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already,His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords,And all the Fellowship I hold now with himIs onely my Obedience. What can happenTo me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your StudiesMake me a Curse, like this
Camp. Your feares are worse
Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe,Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one?A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory)Neuer yet branded with Suspition?Haue I, with all my full AffectionsStill met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him?Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him?Almost forgot my Prayres to content him?And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords.Bring me a constant woman to her Husband,One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure;And to that Woman (when she has done most)Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience
Car. Madam, you wander from the goodWe ayme at
Qu. My Lord,I dare not make my selfe so guiltie,To giue vp willingly that Noble TitleYour Master wed me to: nothing but deathShall e're diuorce my Dignities
Car. Pray heare me
Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth,Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it:Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts.What will become of me now, wretched Lady?I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing.Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes?Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty,No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me?Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the LillyThat once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd,Ile hang my head, and perish
Car. If your GraceCould but be brought to know, our Ends are honest,Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady)Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places,The way of our Profession is against it;We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em.For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do,How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterlyGrow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage.The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience,So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits,They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes.I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper,A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs,Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants
Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so:You wrong your VertuesWith these weake Womens feares. A Noble SpiritAs yours was, put into you, euer castsSuch doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you,Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you pleaseTo trust vs in your businesse) we are readyTo vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice
Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords:And pray forgiue me;If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly,You know I am a Woman, lacking witTo make a seemely answer to such persons.Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie,He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my PrayersWhile I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers,Bestow your Councels on me. She now beggesThat little thought when she set footing heere,She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, andLordChamberlaine.
Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints,And force them with a Constancy, the CardinallCannot stand vnder them. If you omitThe offer of this time, I cannot promise,But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces,With these you beare alreadie
Sur. I am ioyfullTo meete the least occasion, that may giue meRemembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke,To be reueng'd on him
Suf. Which of the PeeresHaue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at leastStrangely neglected? When did he regardThe stampe of Noblenesse in any personOut of himselfe?Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures:What he deserues of you and me, I know:What we can do to him (though now the timeGiues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannotBarre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attemptAny thing on him: for he hath a WitchcraftOuer the King in's Tongue
Nor. O feare him not,His spell in that is out: the King hath foundMatter against him, that for euer marresThe Hony of his Language. No, he's setled(Not to come off) in his displeasure
Sur. Sir,I should be glad to heare such Newes as thisOnce euery houre
Nor. Beleeue it, this is true.In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedingsAre all vnfolded: wherein he appeares,As I would wish mine Enemy
Sur. How cameHis practises to light?Suf. Most strangely
Sur. O how? how?Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried,And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was readHow that the Cardinall did intreat his HolinesseTo stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for ifIt did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiueMy King is tangled in affection, toA Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen
Sur. Ha's the King this?Suf. Beleeue it
Sur. Will this worke?Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coastsAnd hedges his owne way. But in this pointAll his trickes founder, and he brings his PhysickeAfter his Patients death; the King alreadyHath married the faire Lady
Sur. Would he had
Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord,For I professe you haue it
Sur. Now all my ioyTrace the Coniunction
Suf. My Amen too't
Nor. All mens
Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation:Marry this is yet but yong, and may be leftTo some eares vnrecounted. But my LordsShe is a gallant Creature, and compleateIn minde and feature. I perswade me, from herWill fall some blessing to this Land, which shallIn it be memoriz'd
Sur. But will the KingDigest this Letter of the Cardinals?The Lord forbid
Nor. Marry Amen
Suf. No, no:There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose,Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius,Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue,Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, andIs posted as the Agent of our Cardinall,To second all his plot. I do assure you,The King cry'de Ha, at this
Cham. Now God incense him,And let him cry Ha, lowder
Norf. But my LordWhen returnes Cranmer?Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, whichHaue satisfied the King for his Diuorce,Together with all famous ColledgesAlmost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue)His second Marriage shall be publishd, andHer Coronation. Katherine no moreShall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager,And Widdow to Prince Arthur
Nor. This same Cranmer'sA worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paineIn the Kings businesse
Suff. He ha's, and we shall see himFor it, an Arch-byshop
Nor. So I heare
Suf. 'Tis so.Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
The Cardinall
Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody
Car. The Packet Cromwell,Gau't you the King?Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber
Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper?Crom. PresentlyHe did vnseale them, and the first he view'd,He did it with a Serious minde: a heedeWas in his countenance. You he badAttend him heere this Morning
Card. Is he ready to come abroad?Crom. I thinke by this he is
Card. Leaue me a while.
Exit Cromwell.
It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson,The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her.Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him,There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen?No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wishTo heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke?Nor. He's discontented
Suf. Maybe he heares the KingDoes whet his Anger to him
Sur. Sharpe enough,Lord for thy Iustice
Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman?A Knights DaughterTo be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene?This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it,Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuousAnd well deseruing? yet I know her forA spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome toOur cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome ofOur hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vpAn Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, oneHath crawl'd into the fauour of the King,And is his Oracle
Nor. He is vex'd at something.Enter King, reading of a Scedule.
Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string,The Master-cord on's heart
Suf. The King, the King
King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulatedTo his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houreSeemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of ThriftDoes he rake this together? Now my Lords,Saw you the Cardinall?Nor. My Lord, we haueStood heere obseruing him. Some strange CommotionIs in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts,Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground,Then layes his finger on his Temple: straightSprings out into fast gate, then stops againe,Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he castsHis eye against the Moone: in most strange PosturesWe haue seene him set himselfe
King. It may well be,There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning,Papers of State he sent me, to peruseAs I requir'd: and wot you what I foundThere (on my Conscience put vnwittingly)Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importingThe seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure,Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, whichI finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakesPossession of a Subiect
Nor. It's Heauens will,Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,To blesse your eye withall
King. If we did thinkeHis Contemplation were aboue the earth,And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should stillDwell in his Musings, but I am affraidHis Thinkings are below the Moone, not worthHis serious considering.
King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.
Car. Heauen forgiue me,Euer God blesse your Highnesse
King. Good my Lord,You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the InuentoryOf your best Graces, in your minde; the whichYou were now running o're: you haue scarse timeTo steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe spanTo keepe your earthly Audit, sure in thatI deeme you an ill Husband, and am gladTo haue you therein my Companion
Car. Sir,For Holy Offices I haue a time; a timeTo thinke vpon the part of businesse, whichI beare i'th' State: and Nature does requireHer times of preseruation, which perforceI her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall,Must giue my tendance to
King. You haue said well
Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together,(As I will lend you cause) my doing well,With my well saying
King. 'Tis well said agen,And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well,And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you,He said he did, and with his deed did CrowneHis word vpon you. Since I had my Office,I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not aloneImploy'd you where high Profits might come home,But par'd my present Hauings, to bestowMy Bounties vpon you
Car. What should this meane?Sur. The Lord increase this businesse
King. Haue I not made youThe prime man of the State? I pray you tell me,If what I now pronounce, you haue found true:And if you may confesse it, say withallIf you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall gracesShowr'd on me daily, haue bene more then couldMy studied purposes requite, which wentBeyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors,Haue euer come too short of my Desires,Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne endsHaue beene mine so, that euermore they pointedTo'th' good of your most Sacred Person, andThe profit of the State. For your great GracesHeap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) ICan nothing render but Allegiant thankes,My Prayres to heauen for you; my LoyaltieWhich euer ha's, and euer shall be growing,Till death (that Winter) kill it
King. Fairely answer'd:A Loyall, and obedient Subiect isTherein illustrated, the Honor of itDoes pay the Act of it, as i'th' contraryThe fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume,That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you,My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, moreOn you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart,Your Braine, and euery Function of your power,Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,As 'twer in Loues particular, be moreTo me your Friend, then any
Car. I do professe,That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'dMore then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be(Though all the world should cracke their duty to you,And throw it from their Soule, though perils didAbound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, andAppeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty,As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood,Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake,And stand vnshaken yours
King. 'Tis Nobly spoken:Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest,For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this,And after this, and then to Breakfast withWhat appetite you haue.
Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering.
Car. What should this meane?What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it?He parted Frowning from me, as if RuineLeap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed LyonVpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him:Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper:I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so:This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' AccomptOf all that world of Wealth I haue drawne togetherFor mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome,And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence!Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse DiuellMade me put this maine Secret in the PacketI sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?No new deuice to beate this from his Braines?I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I knowA way, if it take right, in spight of FortuneWill bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope?The Letter (as I liue) with all the BusinesseI writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell:I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse,And from that full Meridian of my Glory,I haste now to my Setting. I shall fallLike a bright exhalation in the Euening,And no man see me more.Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earleof Surrey,and the Lord Chamberlaine.
Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall,Who commands youTo render vp the Great Seale presentlyInto our hands, and to Confine your selfeTo Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters,Till you heare further from his Highnesse
Car. Stay:Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrieAuthority so weighty
Suf. Who dare crosse 'em,Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it,(I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords,I dare, and must deny it. Now I feeleOf what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy,How eagerly ye follow my DisgracesAs if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wantonYe appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine?Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice;You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubtIn time will finde their fit Rewards. That SealeYou aske with such a Violence, the King(Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me:Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and HonorsDuring my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse,Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?Sur. The King that gaue it
Car. It must be himselfe then
Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest
Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest:Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst betterHaue burnt that Tongue, then saide so
Sur. Thy Ambition(Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing LandOf Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law,The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals,(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together)Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie,You sent me Deputie for Ireland,Farre from his succour; from the King, from allThat might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him:Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty,Absolu'd him with an Axe
Wol. This, and all elseThis talking Lord can lay vpon my credit,I answer, is most false. The Duke by LawFound his deserts. How innocent I wasFrom any priuate malice in his end,His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse.If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you,You haue as little Honestie, as Honor,That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth,Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master,Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be,And all that loue his follies
Sur. By my Soule,Your long Coat (Priest) protects you,Thou should'st feeleMy Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords,Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance?And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely,To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet,Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward,And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes
Card. All GoodnesseIs poyson to thy Stomacke
Sur. Yes, that goodnesseOf gleaning all the Lands wealth into one,Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion:The goodnesse of your intercepted PacketsYou writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesseSince you prouoke me, shall be most notorious.My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble,As you respect the common good, the StateOf our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues,(Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen)Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the ArticlesCollected from his life. Ile startle youWorse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne WenchLay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall
Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man,But that I am bound in Charitie against it
Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand:But thus much, they are foule ones
Wol. So much fairerAnd spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise,When the King knowes my Truth
Sur. This cannot saue you:I thanke my Memorie, I yet rememberSome of these Articles, and out they shall.Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall,You'l shew a little Honestie
Wol. Speake on Sir,I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush,It is to see a Nobleman want manners
Sur. I had rather want those, then my head;Haue at you.First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge,You wrought to be a Legate, by which powerYou maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops
Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or elseTo Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meusWas still inscrib'd: in which you brought the KingTo be your Seruant
Suf. Then, that without the knowledgeEither of King or Councell, when you wentAmbassador to the Emperor, you made boldTo carry into Flanders, the Great Seale
Sur. Item, You sent a large CommissionTo Gregory de Cassado, to concludeWithout the Kings will, or the States allowance,A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara
Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'dYour holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine
Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance,(By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience)To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayesYou haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooingOf all the Kingdome. Many more there are,Which since they are of you, and odious,I will not taint my mouth with
Cham. O my Lord,Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue:His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them(Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see himSo little, of his great Selfe
Sur. I forgiue him
Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is,Because all those things you haue done of lateBy your power Legatine within this Kingdome,Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire;That therefore such a Writ be sued against you,To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to beOut of the Kings protection. This is my Charge
Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your MeditationsHow to liue better. For your stubborne answerAbout the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you.So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.
Exeunt. all but Wolsey.
Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse.This is the state of Man; to day he puts forthThe tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes,And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him:The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost,And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surelyHis Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote,And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'dLike little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders:This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne PrideAt length broke vnder me, and now ha's left meWeary, and old with Seruice, to the mercyOf a rude streame, that must for euer hide me.Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye,I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretchedIs that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours?There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too,That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine,More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue;And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer,Neuer to hope againe.Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.
Why how now Cromwell?Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir
Car. What, amaz'dAt my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonderA great man should decline. Nay, and you weepI am falne indeed
Crom. How does your Grace
Card. Why well:Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell,I know my selfe now, and I feele within me,A peace aboue all earthly Dignities,A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me,I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shouldersThese ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, takenA loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.)O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burdenToo heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen
Crom. I am glad your Grace,Ha's made that right vse of it
Card. I hope I haue:I am able now (me thinkes)(Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele)To endure more Miseries, and greater farreThen my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer.What Newes abroad?Crom. The heauiest, and the worst,Is your displeasure with the King
Card. God blesse him
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosenLord Chancellor, in your place
Card. That's somewhat sodain.But he's a Learned man. May he continueLong in his Highnesse fauour, and do IusticeFor Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones,When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings,May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him.What more?Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury
Card. That's Newes indeed
Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,Whom the King hath in secrecie long married,This day was view'd in open, as his Queene,Going to Chappell: and the voyce is nowOnely about her Corronation
Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe.O Cromwell,The King ha's gone beyond me: All my GloriesIn that one woman, I haue lost for euer.No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors,Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waightedVpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel,I am a poore falne man, vnworthy nowTo be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King(That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him,What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee:Some little memory of me, will stirre him(I know his Noble Nature) not to letThy hopefull seruice perish too. Good CromwellNeglect him not; make vse now, and prouideFor thine owne future safety
Crom. O my Lord,Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgoSo good, so Noble, and so true a Master?Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron,With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord.The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayresFor euer, and for euer shall be yours
Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teareIn all my Miseries: But thou hast forc'd me(Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman.Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel,And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mentionOf me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee;Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory,And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor,Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in:A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it.Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me:Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition,By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then(The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it?Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee;Corruption wins not more then Honesty.Still in thy right hand, carry gentle PeaceTo silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not;Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries,Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell)Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr.Serue the King: And prythee leade me in:There take an Inuentory of all I haue,To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe,And my Integrity to Heauen, is all,I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel,Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the ZealeI seru'd my King: he would not in mine AgeHaue left me naked to mine Enemies
Crom. Good Sir, haue patience
Card. So I haue. FarewellThe Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.
1 Y'are well met once againe
2 So are you
1 You come to take your stand heere, and beholdThe Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation
2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter,The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall
1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow,This generall ioy
2 'Tis well: The CitizensI am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds,As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forwardIn Celebration of this day with Shewes,Pageants, and Sights of Honor
1 Neuer greater,Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir
2 May I be bold to aske what that containes,That Paper in your hand
1 Yes, 'tis the ListOf those that claime their Offices this day,By custome of the Coronation.The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimesTo be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke,He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest
1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs,I should haue beene beholding to your Paper:But I beseech you, what's become of KatherineThe Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?1 That I can tell you too. The ArchbishopOf Canterbury, accompanied with otherLearned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order,Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles offFrom Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to whichShe was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:And to be short, for not Appearance, andThe Kings late Scruple, by the maine assentOf all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd,And the late Marriage made of none effect:Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton,Where she remaines now sicke
2 Alas good Lady. The Trumpets sound: Stand close, The Queene is comming.
Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish ofTrumpets. 2Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace beforehim. 4Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing theMace. ThenGarter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a GiltCopperCrowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on hishead, aDemy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing theRod ofSiluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars ofEsses. 7Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head,bearinga long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke ofNorfolke, withthe Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8ACanopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene inherRobe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On eachside her,the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse ofNorfolke,in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the QueenesTraine. 10Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold,withoutFlowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State,andthen, A great Flourish of Trumpets.
2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know:Who's that that beares the Scepter?1 Marquesse Dorset,And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod
2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should beeThe Duke of Suffolke
1 'Tis the same: high Steward
2 And that my Lord of Norfolke? 1 Yes
2 Heauen blesse thee,Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on.Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell;Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes,And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady,I cannot blame his Conscience
1 They that beare The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons Of the Cinque-Ports
2 Those men are happy,And so are all, are neere her.I take it, she that carries vp the Traine,Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke
1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses
2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed,And sometimes falling ones
2 No more of that.Enter a third Gentleman.
1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a fingerCould not be wedg'd in more: I am stifledWith the meere ranknesse of their ioy
2 You saw the Ceremony?3 That I did
1 How was it?3 Well worth the seeing
2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?3 As well as I am able. The rich streameOf Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the QueeneTo a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell offA distance from her; while her Grace sate downeTo rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so,In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freelyThe Beauty of her Person to the People.Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest WomanThat euer lay by man: which when the peopleHad the full view of, such a noyse arose,As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest,As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,(Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their FacesBin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioyI neuer saw before. Great belly'd women,That had not halfe a weeke to go, like RammesIn the old time of Warre, would shake the preaseAnd make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuingCould say this is my wife there, all were wouenSo strangely in one peece
2 But what follow'd?3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest pacesCame to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-likeCast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly.Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people:When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury,She had all the Royall makings of a Queene;As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne,The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such EmblemesLaid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the QuireWith all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome,Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,And with the same full State pac'd backe againeTo Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held