ACT IISCENE I. Westminster. A street.Enter twoGentlemenat several doors.FIRST GENTLEMAN.Whither away so fast?SECOND GENTLEMAN.O, God save ye.Even to the Hall, to hear what shall becomeOf the great Duke of Buckingham.FIRST GENTLEMAN.I’ll save youThat labour, sir. All’s now done but the ceremonyOf bringing back the prisoner.SECOND GENTLEMAN.Were you there?FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, indeed, was I.SECOND GENTLEMAN.Pray speak what has happened.FIRST GENTLEMAN.You may guess quickly what.SECOND GENTLEMAN.Is he found guilty?FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon’t.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I am sorry for’t.FIRST GENTLEMAN.So are a number more.SECOND GENTLEMAN.But pray, how passed it?FIRST GENTLEMAN.I’ll tell you in a little. The great DukeCame to the bar, where to his accusationsHe pleaded still not guilty and allegedMany sharp reasons to defeat the law.The King’s attorney on the contraryUrged on the examinations, proofs, confessionsOf divers witnesses, which the Duke desiredTo have broughtviva voceto 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.SECOND GENTLEMAN.That was heThat fed him with his prophecies?FIRST GENTLEMAN.The same.All these accused him strongly, which he fainWould have flung from him, but, indeed he could not.And so his peers, upon this evidence,Have found him guilty of high treason. MuchHe spoke, and learnedly, for life, but allWas either pitied in him or forgotten.SECOND GENTLEMAN.After all this, how did he bear himself?FIRST GENTLEMAN.When he was brought again to th’ bar to hearHis knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirredWith such an agony, he sweat extremelyAnd something spoke in choler, ill and hasty.But he fell to himself again, and sweetlyIn all the rest showed a most noble patience.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I do not think he fears death.FIRST GENTLEMAN.Sure he does not;He never was so womanish. The causeHe may a little grieve at.SECOND GENTLEMAN.CertainlyThe Cardinal is the end of this.FIRST 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.SECOND GENTLEMAN.That trick of stateWas a deep envious one.FIRST GENTLEMAN.At his returnNo 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.SECOND GENTLEMAN.All the commonsHate him perniciously and, o’ my conscience,Wish him ten fathom deep. This duke as muchThey love and dote on, call him bounteous Buckingham,The mirror of all courtesy.EnterBuckinghamfrom his arraignment. Tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied withSir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sandysand common people.FIRST GENTLEMAN.Stay there, sir,And see the noble ruined man you speak of.SECOND GENTLEMAN.Let’s stand close and behold him.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 judgement,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 merciesMore than I dare make faults. You few that loved meAnd dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,His noble friends and fellows, whom to leaveIs 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, i’ God’s name.LOVELL.I do beseech your Grace, for charity,If ever any malice in your heartWere hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.BUCKINGHAM.Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive youAs I would be forgiven. I forgive all.There cannot be those numberless offences’Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envyShall mark my grave. Commend me to his Grace,And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell himYou met him half in heaven. My vows and prayersYet are the King’s and, till my soul forsake,Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liveLonger 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 th’ waterside 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 suitsThe 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 ConstableAnd 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 pityingMy father’s loss, like a most royal prince,Restored me to my honours and out of ruinsMade my name once more noble. Now his son,Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and allThat made me happy at one stroke has takenFor ever from the world. I had my trial,And must needs say a noble one, which makes meA little happier than my wretched father.Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: bothFell 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 counselsBe sure you be not loose; for those you make friendsAnd give your hearts to, when they once perceiveThe least rub in your fortunes, fall awayLike water from ye, never found againBut where they mean to sink ye. All good people,Pray for me. I must now forsake ye. The last hourOf 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.[ExeuntDukeand train.]FIRST GENTLEMAN.O, this is full of pity. Sir, it calls,I fear, too many curses on their headsThat were the authors.SECOND GENTLEMAN.If the Duke be guiltless,’Tis full of woe. Yet I can give you inklingOf an ensuing evil, if it fall,Greater than this.FIRST GENTLEMAN.Good angels keep it from us!What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?SECOND GENTLEMAN.This secret is so weighty, ’twill requireA strong faith to conceal it.FIRST GENTLEMAN.Let me have it.I do not talk much.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I am confident;You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hearA buzzing of a separationBetween the King and Katherine?FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, but it held not;For when the King once heard it, out of angerHe sent command to the Lord Mayor straightTo stop the rumour and allay those tonguesThat durst disperse it.SECOND GENTLEMAN.But that slander, sir,Is found a truth now, for it grows againFresher than e’er it was, and held for certainThe King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal,Or some about him near, have, out of maliceTo the good Queen, possessed him with a scrupleThat will undo her. To confirm this too,Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,As all think, for this business.FIRST GENTLEMAN.’Tis the Cardinal;And merely to revenge him on the EmperorFor not bestowing on him at his asking,The archbishopric of Toledo this is purposed.SECOND GENTLEMAN.I think you have hit the mark. But is’t not cruelThat she should feel the smart of this? The CardinalWill have his will, and she must fall.FIRST GENTLEMAN.’Tis woeful.We are too open here to argue this.Let’s think in private more.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. An ante-chamber in the palace.EnterLord Chamberlain, reading this letter.CHAMBERLAIN.My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care 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 theLord Chamberlain, the Dukes of NorfolkandSuffolk.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 wifeHas crept too near his conscience.SUFFOLK.No, his conscienceHas 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 leagueBetween us and the Emperor, the Queen’s great nephew,He dives into the King’s soul and there scattersDangers, 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 herThat like a jewel has hung twenty yearsAbout his neck, yet never lost her lustre;Of her that loves him with that excellenceThat angels love good men with; even of herThat, 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 dareLook into these affairs see this main end,The French king’s sister. Heaven will one day openThe King’s eyes, that so long have slept uponThis 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 allFrom princes into pages. All men’s honoursLie like one lump before him, to be fashionedInto 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 blessingsTouch me alike, they’re breath I not believe in.I knew him, and I know him; so I leave himTo him that made him proud, the Pope.NORFOLK.Let’s in,And with some other business put the KingFrom 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.[ExitLord Chamberlain, and theKingdraws the curtain and sits reading pensively.]SUFFOLK.How sad he looks! Sure, he is much afflicted.KING.Who’s there? Ha?NORFOLK.Pray God he be not angry.KING.Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselvesInto my private meditations?Who am I? Ha?NORFOLK.A gracious king that pardons all offencesMalice ne’er meant. Our breach of duty this wayIs business of estate, in which we comeTo know your royal pleasure.KING.Ye are too bold.Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business.Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?EnterWolseyandCampeiuswith 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 careI be not found a talker.WOLSEY.Sir, you cannot.I would your Grace would give us but an hourOf private conference.KING.[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.[ExeuntNorfolkandSuffolk.]WOLSEY.Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdomAbove all princes in committing freelyYour 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 judgement,Invited by your noble self, hath sentOne general tongue unto us, this good man,This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,Whom once more I present unto your Highness.KING.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’ handI tender my commission, by whose virtue,The court of Rome commanding, you, my LordCardinal of York, are joined with me their servantIn the unpartial judging of this business.KING.Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquaintedForthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?WOLSEY.I know your Majesty has always loved herSo dear in heart not to deny her thatA woman of less place might ask by law:Scholars allowed freely to argue for her.KING.Ay, and the best she shall have, and my favourTo him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal,Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary.I find him a fit fellow.EnterGardiner.WOLSEY.[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 commandedFor ever by your Grace, whose hand has raised me.KING.Come hither, Gardiner.[TheKingandGardinerwalk and whisper.]CAMPEIUS.My lord of York, was not one Doctor PaceIn this man’s place before him?WOLSEY.Yes, he was.CAMPEIUS.Was he not held a learned man?WOLSEY.Yes, surely.CAMPEIUS.Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread, thenEven of yourself, Lord Cardinal.WOLSEY.How? Of me?CAMPEIUS.They will not stick to say you envied himAnd fearing he would rise—he was so virtuous—Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved himThat he ran mad and died.WOLSEY.Heav’n’s peace be with him!That’s Christian care enough. For living murmurersThere’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.Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.[ExitGardiner.]The most convenient place that I can think ofFor such receipt of learning is Blackfriars.There ye shall meet about this weighty business.My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord,Would it not grieve an able man to leaveSo sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!O, ’tis a tender place, and I must leave her.[Exeunt.]SCENE III. An ante-chamber of the Queen’s apartments.EnterAnne Bullenand anOld Lady.ANNE.Not for that neither. Here’s the pang that pinches:His Highness having lived so long with her, and sheSo good a lady that no tongue could everPronounce dishonour of her—by my life,She never knew harm-doing—O, now, afterSo many courses of the sun enthroned,Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the whichTo leave a thousandfold more bitter than’Tis sweet at first t’ acquire—after this process,To give her the avaunt, it is a pityWould move a monster.OLD LADY.Hearts of most hard temperMelt and lament for her.ANNE.O, God’s will! Much betterShe ne’er had known pomp; though’t be temporal,Yet if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorceIt from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance pangingAs soul and body’s severing.OLD LADY.Alas, poor lady,She’s a stranger now again.ANNE.So much the moreMust pity drop upon her. Verily,I swear, ’tis better to be lowly bornAnd range with humble livers in contentThan to be perked up in a glist’ring grief,And wear a golden sorrow.OLD LADY.Our contentIs our best having.ANNE.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 yetAffected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,Saving your mincing, the capacityOf your soft cheveril conscience would receive,If you might please to stretch it.ANNE.Nay, good troth.OLD LADY.Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen?ANNE.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 limbsTo bear that load of title?ANNE.No, in truth.OLD LADY.Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little.I would not be a young count in your wayFor more than blushing comes to. If your backCannot vouchsafe this burden, ’tis too weakEver to get a boy.ANNE.How you do talk!I swear again I would not be a queenFor all the world.OLD LADY.In faith, for little EnglandYou’d venture an emballing. I myselfWould for Caernarfonshire, although there longedNo more to th’ crown but that. Lo, who comes here?EnterLord Chamberlain.CHAMBERLAIN.Good morrow, ladies. What were’t worth to knowThe secret of your conference?ANNE.My good lord,Not your demand; it values not your asking.Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying.CHAMBERLAIN.It was a gentle business, and becomingThe action of good women. There is hopeAll will be well.ANNE.Now, I pray God, amen!CHAMBERLAIN.You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessingsFollow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note’sTa’en of your many virtues, the King’s MajestyCommends his good opinion of you, andDoes purpose honour to you no less flowingThan Marchioness of Pembroke, to which titleA thousand pound a year annual supportOut of his grace he adds.ANNE.I do not knowWhat kind of my obedience I should tender.More than my all is nothing; nor my prayersAre not words duly hallowed, nor my wishesMore worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishesAre 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 conceitThe King hath of you. [Aside.] I have perused her well.Beauty and honour in her are so mingledThat they have caught the King; and who knows yetBut from this lady may proceed a gemTo lighten all this isle? I’ll to the King,And say I spoke with you.ANNE.My honoured lord.[ExitLord Chamberlain.]OLD LADY.Why, this it is: see, see!I have been begging sixteen years in court,Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor couldCome pat betwixt too early and too lateFor any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!A very fresh fish here—fie, fie, fie uponThis compelled fortune!—have your mouth filled upBefore you open it.ANNE.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.Come, you are pleasant.OLD LADY.With your theme, I couldO’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 trainIs longer than his foreskirt. By this timeI know your back will bear a duchess. Say,Are you not stronger than you were?ANNE.Good lady,Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,And leave me out on’t. Would I had no beingIf this salute my blood a jot. It faints meTo think what follows.The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetfulIn our long absence. Pray do not deliverWhat here you’ve heard to her.OLD LADY.What do you think me?[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. A hall in Blackfriars.Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter twoVergers, with short silver wands; next them, twoScribes, in the habit of doctors; after them, theArchbishop of Canterburyalone; after him, theBishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, andSaint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows aGentlemanbearing the purse with the great seal, and a cardinal’s hat; then twoPriests, bearing each a silver cross; then aGentleman Usherbare-headed, accompanied with aSergeant-at-armsbearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the twoCardinals; twoNoblemenwith the sword and mace. TheKingtakes place under the cloth of state. The two Cardinals sit under him as judges. TheQueentakes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of consistory; below them theScribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.WOLSEY.Whilst our commission from Rome is read,Let silence be commanded.KING.What’s the need?It hath already publicly been read,And on all sides th’ authority allowed;You may then spare that time.WOLSEY.Be’t so. Proceed.SCRIBE.Say, “Henry King of England, come into the court.”CRIER.Henry King of England, come into the court.KING.Here.SCRIBE.Say, “Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.”CRIER.Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.[TheQueenmakes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to theKing, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.]QUEEN KATHERINE.Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,And to bestow your pity on me; forI am a most poor woman and a stranger,Born out of your dominions, having hereNo judge indifferent nor no more assuranceOf equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,In what have I offended you? What causeHath my behaviour given to your displeasureThat thus you should proceed to put me offAnd take your good grace from me? Heaven witnessI 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 sorryAs I saw it inclined. When was the hourI ever contradicted your desire,Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friendsHave I not strove to love, although I knewHe were mine enemy? What friend of mineThat had to him derived your anger did IContinue in my liking? Nay, gave noticeHe was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mindThat I have been your wife in this obedienceUpward of twenty years, and have been blessedWith many children by you. If, in the courseAnd process of this time, you can report,And prove it too, against mine honour aught,My bond to wedlock, or my love and dutyAgainst your sacred person, in God’s name,Turn me away and let the foul’st contemptShut door upon me, and so give me upTo the sharp’st kind of justice. Please you, sir,The King your father was reputed forA prince most prudent, of an excellentAnd unmatched wit and judgement. Ferdinand,My father, King of Spain, was reckoned oneThe wisest prince that there had reigned by manyA year before. It is not to be questionedThat they had gathered a wise council to themOf every realm, that did debate this business,Who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humblyBeseech you, sir, to spare me till I mayBe by my friends in Spain advised, whose counselI will implore. If not, i’ th’ name of God,Your pleasure be fulfilled.WOLSEY.You have here, lady,And of your choice, these reverend fathers, menOf singular integrity and learning,Yea, the elect o’ th’ land, who are assembledTo plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootlessThat longer you desire the court, as wellFor your own quiet as to rectifyWhat is unsettled in the King.CAMPEIUS.His GraceHath spoken well and justly. Therefore, madam,It’s fit this royal session do proceed,And that without delay their argumentsBe now produced and heard.QUEEN KATHERINE.Lord Cardinal,To you I speak.WOLSEY.Your pleasure, madam.QUEEN KATHERINE.Sir,I am about to weep; but, thinking thatWe are a queen, or long have dreamed so, certainThe daughter of a king, my drops of tearsI’ll turn to sparks of fire.WOLSEY.Be patient yet.QUEEN KATHERINE.I will, when you are humble; nay, before,Or God will punish me. I do believe,Induced by potent circumstances, thatYou are mine enemy, and make my challengeYou shall not be my judge; for it is youHave blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,Which God’s dew quench! Therefore I say again,I utterly abhor, yea, from my soulRefuse you for my judge, whom, yet once more,I hold my most malicious foe and think notAt all a friend to truth.WOLSEY.I do professYou speak not like yourself, who ever yetHave stood to charity and displayed th’ effectsOf disposition gentle and of wisdomO’ertopping woman’s power. Madam, you do me wrong.I have no spleen against you, nor injusticeFor you or any. How far I have proceeded,Or how far further shall, is warrantedBy a commission from the Consistory,Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge meThat I have “blown this coal”. I do deny it.The King is present. If it be known to himThat I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,And worthily, my falsehood, yea, as muchAs you have done my truth. If he knowThat I am free of your report, he knowsI am not of your wrong. Therefore in himIt lies to cure me, and the cure is toRemove these thoughts from you, the which beforeHis Highness shall speak in, I do beseechYou, gracious madam, to unthink your speakingAnd to say so no more.QUEEN KATHERINE.My lord, my lord,I am a simple woman, much too weakT’ oppose your cunning. You’re meek and humble-mouthed;You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,With meekness and humility; but your heartIs crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.You have, by fortune and his Highness’ favours,Gone slightly o’er low steps, and now are mountedWhere powers are your retainers, and your words,Domestics to you, serve your will as ’t pleaseYourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,You tender more your person’s honour thanYour high profession spiritual; that againI 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 theKingand offers to depart.]CAMPEIUS.The Queen is obstinate,Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, andDisdainful to be tried by’t. ’Tis not well.She’s going away.KING.Call her again.CRIER.Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.GENTLEMAN USHER.Madam, you are called back.QUEEN KATHERINE.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 moreUpon this business my appearance makeIn any of their courts.[ExeuntQueenand her Attendants.]KING.Go thy ways, Kate.That man i’ th’ world who shall report he hasA better wife, let him in naught be trusted,For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone—If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,Obeying in commanding, and thy partsSovereign and pious else, could speak thee out—The queen of earthly queens. She’s noble born,And like her true nobility she hasCarried herself towards me.WOLSEY.Most gracious sir,In humblest manner I require your HighnessThat it shall please you to declare, in hearingOf all these ears—for where I am robbed and bound,There must I be unloosed, although not thereAt once and fully satisfied—whether ever IDid broach this business to your Highness, orLaid any scruple in your way which mightInduce you to the question on’t? or everHave to you, but with thanks to God for suchA royal lady, spake one the least word that mightBe to the prejudice of her present state,Or touch of her good person?KING.My Lord Cardinal,I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,I free you from’t. You are not to be taughtThat you have many enemies that know notWhy they are so, but, like to village curs,Bark when their fellows do. By some of theseThe Queen is put in anger. You’re excused.But will you be more justified? You everHave wished the sleeping of this business, never desiredIt to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft,The passages made toward it. On my honour,I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this pointAnd thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to’t,I will be bold with time and your attention.Then mark th’ inducement. Thus it came; give heed to’t:My conscience first received a tenderness,Scruple, and prick on certain speeches utteredBy th’ Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,Who had been hither sent on the debatingA marriage ’twixt the Duke of Orleans andOur 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 advertiseWhether our daughter were legitimate,Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,Sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite shookThe bosom of my conscience, entered me,Yea, with a splitting power, and made to trembleThe region of my breast; which forced such wayThat many mazed considerings did throngAnd pressed in with this caution. First, methoughtI stood not in the smile of heaven, who hadCommanded nature that my lady’s womb,If it conceived a male child by me, shouldDo no more offices of life to’t thanThe grave does to th’ dead; for her male issueOr died where they were made, or shortly afterThis world had aired them. Hence I took a thoughtThis was a judgement on me, that my kingdom,Well worthy the best heir o’ th’ world, should notBe gladded in’t by me. Then follows thatI weighed the danger which my realms stood inBy this my issue’s fail, and that gave to meMany a groaning throe. Thus hulling inThe wild sea of my conscience, I did steerToward this remedy whereupon we areNow present here together. That’s to say,I meant to rectify my conscience, whichI then did feel full sick, and yet not well,By all the reverend fathers of the landAnd doctors learned. First I began in privateWith you, my Lord of Lincoln. You rememberHow under my oppression I did reekWhen I first moved you.LINCOLN.Very well, my liege.KING.I have spoke long. Be pleased yourself to sayHow far you satisfied me.LINCOLN.So please your Highness,The question did at first so stagger me,Bearing a state of mighty moment in’tAnd consequence of dread, that I committedThe daring’st counsel which I had to doubtAnd did entreat your Highness to this courseWhich you are running here.KING.I then moved you,My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaveTo make this present summons. UnsolicitedI left no reverend person in this court,But by particular consent proceededUnder your hands and seals. Therefore go on,For no dislike i’ th’ world against the personOf the good queen, but the sharp thorny pointsOf my alleged reasons, drives this forward.Prove but our marriage lawful, by my lifeAnd kingly dignity, we are contentedTo wear our mortal state to come with her,Katherine, our Queen, before the primest creatureThat’s paragoned o’ th’ world.CAMPEIUS.So please your Highness,The Queen being absent, ’tis a needful fitnessThat we adjourn this court till further day.Meanwhile must be an earnest motionMade to the Queen to call back her appealShe intends unto his Holiness.KING.[Aside.] I may perceiveThese cardinals trifle with me. I abhorThis dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.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.]
Enter twoGentlemenat several doors.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Whither away so fast?
SECOND GENTLEMAN.O, God save ye.Even to the Hall, to hear what shall becomeOf the great Duke of Buckingham.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.I’ll save youThat labour, sir. All’s now done but the ceremonyOf bringing back the prisoner.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.Were you there?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, indeed, was I.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.Pray speak what has happened.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.You may guess quickly what.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.Is he found guilty?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon’t.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I am sorry for’t.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.So are a number more.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.But pray, how passed it?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.I’ll tell you in a little. The great DukeCame to the bar, where to his accusationsHe pleaded still not guilty and allegedMany sharp reasons to defeat the law.The King’s attorney on the contraryUrged on the examinations, proofs, confessionsOf divers witnesses, which the Duke desiredTo have broughtviva voceto 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.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.That was heThat fed him with his prophecies?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.The same.All these accused him strongly, which he fainWould have flung from him, but, indeed he could not.And so his peers, upon this evidence,Have found him guilty of high treason. MuchHe spoke, and learnedly, for life, but allWas either pitied in him or forgotten.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.After all this, how did he bear himself?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.When he was brought again to th’ bar to hearHis knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirredWith such an agony, he sweat extremelyAnd something spoke in choler, ill and hasty.But he fell to himself again, and sweetlyIn all the rest showed a most noble patience.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I do not think he fears death.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Sure he does not;He never was so womanish. The causeHe may a little grieve at.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.CertainlyThe Cardinal is the end of this.
FIRST 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.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.That trick of stateWas a deep envious one.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.At his returnNo 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.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.All the commonsHate him perniciously and, o’ my conscience,Wish him ten fathom deep. This duke as muchThey love and dote on, call him bounteous Buckingham,The mirror of all courtesy.
EnterBuckinghamfrom his arraignment. Tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied withSir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sandysand common people.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Stay there, sir,And see the noble ruined man you speak of.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.Let’s stand close and behold him.
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 judgement,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 merciesMore than I dare make faults. You few that loved meAnd dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,His noble friends and fellows, whom to leaveIs 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, i’ God’s name.
LOVELL.I do beseech your Grace, for charity,If ever any malice in your heartWere hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
BUCKINGHAM.Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive youAs I would be forgiven. I forgive all.There cannot be those numberless offences’Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envyShall mark my grave. Commend me to his Grace,And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell himYou met him half in heaven. My vows and prayersYet are the King’s and, till my soul forsake,Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liveLonger 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 th’ waterside 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 suitsThe 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 ConstableAnd 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 pityingMy father’s loss, like a most royal prince,Restored me to my honours and out of ruinsMade my name once more noble. Now his son,Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and allThat made me happy at one stroke has takenFor ever from the world. I had my trial,And must needs say a noble one, which makes meA little happier than my wretched father.Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: bothFell 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 counselsBe sure you be not loose; for those you make friendsAnd give your hearts to, when they once perceiveThe least rub in your fortunes, fall awayLike water from ye, never found againBut where they mean to sink ye. All good people,Pray for me. I must now forsake ye. The last hourOf 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.
[ExeuntDukeand train.]
FIRST GENTLEMAN.O, this is full of pity. Sir, it calls,I fear, too many curses on their headsThat were the authors.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.If the Duke be guiltless,’Tis full of woe. Yet I can give you inklingOf an ensuing evil, if it fall,Greater than this.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Good angels keep it from us!What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
SECOND GENTLEMAN.This secret is so weighty, ’twill requireA strong faith to conceal it.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Let me have it.I do not talk much.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I am confident;You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hearA buzzing of a separationBetween the King and Katherine?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.Yes, but it held not;For when the King once heard it, out of angerHe sent command to the Lord Mayor straightTo stop the rumour and allay those tonguesThat durst disperse it.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.But that slander, sir,Is found a truth now, for it grows againFresher than e’er it was, and held for certainThe King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal,Or some about him near, have, out of maliceTo the good Queen, possessed him with a scrupleThat will undo her. To confirm this too,Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,As all think, for this business.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.’Tis the Cardinal;And merely to revenge him on the EmperorFor not bestowing on him at his asking,The archbishopric of Toledo this is purposed.
SECOND GENTLEMAN.I think you have hit the mark. But is’t not cruelThat she should feel the smart of this? The CardinalWill have his will, and she must fall.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.’Tis woeful.We are too open here to argue this.Let’s think in private more.
[Exeunt.]
EnterLord Chamberlain, reading this letter.
CHAMBERLAIN.My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care 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 theLord Chamberlain, the Dukes of NorfolkandSuffolk.
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 wifeHas crept too near his conscience.
SUFFOLK.No, his conscienceHas 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 leagueBetween us and the Emperor, the Queen’s great nephew,He dives into the King’s soul and there scattersDangers, 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 herThat like a jewel has hung twenty yearsAbout his neck, yet never lost her lustre;Of her that loves him with that excellenceThat angels love good men with; even of herThat, 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 dareLook into these affairs see this main end,The French king’s sister. Heaven will one day openThe King’s eyes, that so long have slept uponThis 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 allFrom princes into pages. All men’s honoursLie like one lump before him, to be fashionedInto 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 blessingsTouch me alike, they’re breath I not believe in.I knew him, and I know him; so I leave himTo him that made him proud, the Pope.
NORFOLK.Let’s in,And with some other business put the KingFrom 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.
[ExitLord Chamberlain, and theKingdraws the curtain and sits reading pensively.]
SUFFOLK.How sad he looks! Sure, he is much afflicted.
KING.Who’s there? Ha?
NORFOLK.Pray God he be not angry.
KING.Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselvesInto my private meditations?Who am I? Ha?
NORFOLK.A gracious king that pardons all offencesMalice ne’er meant. Our breach of duty this wayIs business of estate, in which we comeTo know your royal pleasure.
KING.Ye are too bold.Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business.Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
EnterWolseyandCampeiuswith 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 careI be not found a talker.
WOLSEY.Sir, you cannot.I would your Grace would give us but an hourOf private conference.
KING.[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.
[ExeuntNorfolkandSuffolk.]
WOLSEY.Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdomAbove all princes in committing freelyYour 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 judgement,Invited by your noble self, hath sentOne general tongue unto us, this good man,This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,Whom once more I present unto your Highness.
KING.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’ handI tender my commission, by whose virtue,The court of Rome commanding, you, my LordCardinal of York, are joined with me their servantIn the unpartial judging of this business.
KING.Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquaintedForthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?
WOLSEY.I know your Majesty has always loved herSo dear in heart not to deny her thatA woman of less place might ask by law:Scholars allowed freely to argue for her.
KING.Ay, and the best she shall have, and my favourTo him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal,Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary.I find him a fit fellow.
EnterGardiner.
WOLSEY.[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 commandedFor ever by your Grace, whose hand has raised me.
KING.Come hither, Gardiner.
[TheKingandGardinerwalk and whisper.]
CAMPEIUS.My lord of York, was not one Doctor PaceIn this man’s place before him?
WOLSEY.Yes, he was.
CAMPEIUS.Was he not held a learned man?
WOLSEY.Yes, surely.
CAMPEIUS.Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread, thenEven of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
WOLSEY.How? Of me?
CAMPEIUS.They will not stick to say you envied himAnd fearing he would rise—he was so virtuous—Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved himThat he ran mad and died.
WOLSEY.Heav’n’s peace be with him!That’s Christian care enough. For living murmurersThere’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.Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.
[ExitGardiner.]
The most convenient place that I can think ofFor such receipt of learning is Blackfriars.There ye shall meet about this weighty business.My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord,Would it not grieve an able man to leaveSo sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!O, ’tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.]
EnterAnne Bullenand anOld Lady.
ANNE.Not for that neither. Here’s the pang that pinches:His Highness having lived so long with her, and sheSo good a lady that no tongue could everPronounce dishonour of her—by my life,She never knew harm-doing—O, now, afterSo many courses of the sun enthroned,Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the whichTo leave a thousandfold more bitter than’Tis sweet at first t’ acquire—after this process,To give her the avaunt, it is a pityWould move a monster.
OLD LADY.Hearts of most hard temperMelt and lament for her.
ANNE.O, God’s will! Much betterShe ne’er had known pomp; though’t be temporal,Yet if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorceIt from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance pangingAs soul and body’s severing.
OLD LADY.Alas, poor lady,She’s a stranger now again.
ANNE.So much the moreMust pity drop upon her. Verily,I swear, ’tis better to be lowly bornAnd range with humble livers in contentThan to be perked up in a glist’ring grief,And wear a golden sorrow.
OLD LADY.Our contentIs our best having.
ANNE.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 yetAffected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,Saving your mincing, the capacityOf your soft cheveril conscience would receive,If you might please to stretch it.
ANNE.Nay, good troth.
OLD LADY.Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen?
ANNE.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 limbsTo bear that load of title?
ANNE.No, in truth.
OLD LADY.Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little.I would not be a young count in your wayFor more than blushing comes to. If your backCannot vouchsafe this burden, ’tis too weakEver to get a boy.
ANNE.How you do talk!I swear again I would not be a queenFor all the world.
OLD LADY.In faith, for little EnglandYou’d venture an emballing. I myselfWould for Caernarfonshire, although there longedNo more to th’ crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
EnterLord Chamberlain.
CHAMBERLAIN.Good morrow, ladies. What were’t worth to knowThe secret of your conference?
ANNE.My good lord,Not your demand; it values not your asking.Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying.
CHAMBERLAIN.It was a gentle business, and becomingThe action of good women. There is hopeAll will be well.
ANNE.Now, I pray God, amen!
CHAMBERLAIN.You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessingsFollow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note’sTa’en of your many virtues, the King’s MajestyCommends his good opinion of you, andDoes purpose honour to you no less flowingThan Marchioness of Pembroke, to which titleA thousand pound a year annual supportOut of his grace he adds.
ANNE.I do not knowWhat kind of my obedience I should tender.More than my all is nothing; nor my prayersAre not words duly hallowed, nor my wishesMore worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishesAre 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 conceitThe King hath of you. [Aside.] I have perused her well.Beauty and honour in her are so mingledThat they have caught the King; and who knows yetBut from this lady may proceed a gemTo lighten all this isle? I’ll to the King,And say I spoke with you.
ANNE.My honoured lord.
[ExitLord Chamberlain.]
OLD LADY.Why, this it is: see, see!I have been begging sixteen years in court,Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor couldCome pat betwixt too early and too lateFor any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!A very fresh fish here—fie, fie, fie uponThis compelled fortune!—have your mouth filled upBefore you open it.
ANNE.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.Come, you are pleasant.
OLD LADY.With your theme, I couldO’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 trainIs longer than his foreskirt. By this timeI know your back will bear a duchess. Say,Are you not stronger than you were?
ANNE.Good lady,Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,And leave me out on’t. Would I had no beingIf this salute my blood a jot. It faints meTo think what follows.The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetfulIn our long absence. Pray do not deliverWhat here you’ve heard to her.
OLD LADY.What do you think me?
[Exeunt.]
Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter twoVergers, with short silver wands; next them, twoScribes, in the habit of doctors; after them, theArchbishop of Canterburyalone; after him, theBishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, andSaint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows aGentlemanbearing the purse with the great seal, and a cardinal’s hat; then twoPriests, bearing each a silver cross; then aGentleman Usherbare-headed, accompanied with aSergeant-at-armsbearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the twoCardinals; twoNoblemenwith the sword and mace. TheKingtakes place under the cloth of state. The two Cardinals sit under him as judges. TheQueentakes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of consistory; below them theScribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.
WOLSEY.Whilst our commission from Rome is read,Let silence be commanded.
KING.What’s the need?It hath already publicly been read,And on all sides th’ authority allowed;You may then spare that time.
WOLSEY.Be’t so. Proceed.
SCRIBE.Say, “Henry King of England, come into the court.”
CRIER.Henry King of England, come into the court.
KING.Here.
SCRIBE.Say, “Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.”
CRIER.Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.
[TheQueenmakes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to theKing, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.]
QUEEN KATHERINE.Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,And to bestow your pity on me; forI am a most poor woman and a stranger,Born out of your dominions, having hereNo judge indifferent nor no more assuranceOf equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,In what have I offended you? What causeHath my behaviour given to your displeasureThat thus you should proceed to put me offAnd take your good grace from me? Heaven witnessI 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 sorryAs I saw it inclined. When was the hourI ever contradicted your desire,Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friendsHave I not strove to love, although I knewHe were mine enemy? What friend of mineThat had to him derived your anger did IContinue in my liking? Nay, gave noticeHe was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mindThat I have been your wife in this obedienceUpward of twenty years, and have been blessedWith many children by you. If, in the courseAnd process of this time, you can report,And prove it too, against mine honour aught,My bond to wedlock, or my love and dutyAgainst your sacred person, in God’s name,Turn me away and let the foul’st contemptShut door upon me, and so give me upTo the sharp’st kind of justice. Please you, sir,The King your father was reputed forA prince most prudent, of an excellentAnd unmatched wit and judgement. Ferdinand,My father, King of Spain, was reckoned oneThe wisest prince that there had reigned by manyA year before. It is not to be questionedThat they had gathered a wise council to themOf every realm, that did debate this business,Who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humblyBeseech you, sir, to spare me till I mayBe by my friends in Spain advised, whose counselI will implore. If not, i’ th’ name of God,Your pleasure be fulfilled.
WOLSEY.You have here, lady,And of your choice, these reverend fathers, menOf singular integrity and learning,Yea, the elect o’ th’ land, who are assembledTo plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootlessThat longer you desire the court, as wellFor your own quiet as to rectifyWhat is unsettled in the King.
CAMPEIUS.His GraceHath spoken well and justly. Therefore, madam,It’s fit this royal session do proceed,And that without delay their argumentsBe now produced and heard.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Lord Cardinal,To you I speak.
WOLSEY.Your pleasure, madam.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Sir,I am about to weep; but, thinking thatWe are a queen, or long have dreamed so, certainThe daughter of a king, my drops of tearsI’ll turn to sparks of fire.
WOLSEY.Be patient yet.
QUEEN KATHERINE.I will, when you are humble; nay, before,Or God will punish me. I do believe,Induced by potent circumstances, thatYou are mine enemy, and make my challengeYou shall not be my judge; for it is youHave blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,Which God’s dew quench! Therefore I say again,I utterly abhor, yea, from my soulRefuse you for my judge, whom, yet once more,I hold my most malicious foe and think notAt all a friend to truth.
WOLSEY.I do professYou speak not like yourself, who ever yetHave stood to charity and displayed th’ effectsOf disposition gentle and of wisdomO’ertopping woman’s power. Madam, you do me wrong.I have no spleen against you, nor injusticeFor you or any. How far I have proceeded,Or how far further shall, is warrantedBy a commission from the Consistory,Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge meThat I have “blown this coal”. I do deny it.The King is present. If it be known to himThat I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,And worthily, my falsehood, yea, as muchAs you have done my truth. If he knowThat I am free of your report, he knowsI am not of your wrong. Therefore in himIt lies to cure me, and the cure is toRemove these thoughts from you, the which beforeHis Highness shall speak in, I do beseechYou, gracious madam, to unthink your speakingAnd to say so no more.
QUEEN KATHERINE.My lord, my lord,I am a simple woman, much too weakT’ oppose your cunning. You’re meek and humble-mouthed;You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,With meekness and humility; but your heartIs crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.You have, by fortune and his Highness’ favours,Gone slightly o’er low steps, and now are mountedWhere powers are your retainers, and your words,Domestics to you, serve your will as ’t pleaseYourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,You tender more your person’s honour thanYour high profession spiritual; that againI 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 theKingand offers to depart.]
CAMPEIUS.The Queen is obstinate,Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, andDisdainful to be tried by’t. ’Tis not well.She’s going away.
KING.Call her again.
CRIER.Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.
GENTLEMAN USHER.Madam, you are called back.
QUEEN KATHERINE.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 moreUpon this business my appearance makeIn any of their courts.
[ExeuntQueenand her Attendants.]
KING.Go thy ways, Kate.That man i’ th’ world who shall report he hasA better wife, let him in naught be trusted,For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone—If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,Obeying in commanding, and thy partsSovereign and pious else, could speak thee out—The queen of earthly queens. She’s noble born,And like her true nobility she hasCarried herself towards me.
WOLSEY.Most gracious sir,In humblest manner I require your HighnessThat it shall please you to declare, in hearingOf all these ears—for where I am robbed and bound,There must I be unloosed, although not thereAt once and fully satisfied—whether ever IDid broach this business to your Highness, orLaid any scruple in your way which mightInduce you to the question on’t? or everHave to you, but with thanks to God for suchA royal lady, spake one the least word that mightBe to the prejudice of her present state,Or touch of her good person?
KING.My Lord Cardinal,I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,I free you from’t. You are not to be taughtThat you have many enemies that know notWhy they are so, but, like to village curs,Bark when their fellows do. By some of theseThe Queen is put in anger. You’re excused.But will you be more justified? You everHave wished the sleeping of this business, never desiredIt to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft,The passages made toward it. On my honour,I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this pointAnd thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to’t,I will be bold with time and your attention.Then mark th’ inducement. Thus it came; give heed to’t:My conscience first received a tenderness,Scruple, and prick on certain speeches utteredBy th’ Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,Who had been hither sent on the debatingA marriage ’twixt the Duke of Orleans andOur 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 advertiseWhether our daughter were legitimate,Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,Sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite shookThe bosom of my conscience, entered me,Yea, with a splitting power, and made to trembleThe region of my breast; which forced such wayThat many mazed considerings did throngAnd pressed in with this caution. First, methoughtI stood not in the smile of heaven, who hadCommanded nature that my lady’s womb,If it conceived a male child by me, shouldDo no more offices of life to’t thanThe grave does to th’ dead; for her male issueOr died where they were made, or shortly afterThis world had aired them. Hence I took a thoughtThis was a judgement on me, that my kingdom,Well worthy the best heir o’ th’ world, should notBe gladded in’t by me. Then follows thatI weighed the danger which my realms stood inBy this my issue’s fail, and that gave to meMany a groaning throe. Thus hulling inThe wild sea of my conscience, I did steerToward this remedy whereupon we areNow present here together. That’s to say,I meant to rectify my conscience, whichI then did feel full sick, and yet not well,By all the reverend fathers of the landAnd doctors learned. First I began in privateWith you, my Lord of Lincoln. You rememberHow under my oppression I did reekWhen I first moved you.
LINCOLN.Very well, my liege.
KING.I have spoke long. Be pleased yourself to sayHow far you satisfied me.
LINCOLN.So please your Highness,The question did at first so stagger me,Bearing a state of mighty moment in’tAnd consequence of dread, that I committedThe daring’st counsel which I had to doubtAnd did entreat your Highness to this courseWhich you are running here.
KING.I then moved you,My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaveTo make this present summons. UnsolicitedI left no reverend person in this court,But by particular consent proceededUnder your hands and seals. Therefore go on,For no dislike i’ th’ world against the personOf the good queen, but the sharp thorny pointsOf my alleged reasons, drives this forward.Prove but our marriage lawful, by my lifeAnd kingly dignity, we are contentedTo wear our mortal state to come with her,Katherine, our Queen, before the primest creatureThat’s paragoned o’ th’ world.
CAMPEIUS.So please your Highness,The Queen being absent, ’tis a needful fitnessThat we adjourn this court till further day.Meanwhile must be an earnest motionMade to the Queen to call back her appealShe intends unto his Holiness.
KING.[Aside.] I may perceiveThese cardinals trifle with me. I abhorThis dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.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.]