ACT IIISCENE I. London. The Queen’s apartments.EnterQueenand her Women, as at work.QUEEN KATHERINE.Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.Sing, and disperse ’em, if thou canst. Leave working.WOMAN[sings song.]Orpheus with his lute made treesAnd the mountain tops that freezeBow themselves when he did sing.To his music plants and flowersEver sprung, as sun and showersThere had made a lasting spring.Everything that heard him play,Even the billows of the sea,Hung their heads and then lay by.In sweet music is such art,Killing care and grief of heartFall asleep or, hearing, die.Enter aGentleman.QUEEN KATHERINE.How now?GENTLEMAN.An’t please your Grace, the two great CardinalsWait in the presence.QUEEN KATHERINE.Would they speak with me?GENTLEMAN.They willed me say so, madam.QUEEN KATHERINE.Pray their GracesTo come near.[ExitGentleman.]What can be their businessWith me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour?I do not like their coming. Now I think on’t,They should be good men, their affairs as righteous.But all hoods make not monks.Enter the twoCardinals, WolseyandCampeius.WOLSEY.Peace to your Highness.QUEEN KATHERINE.Your Graces find me here part of housewife;I would be all, against the worst may happen.What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?WOLSEY.May it please you, noble madam, to withdrawInto your private chamber, we shall give youThe full cause of our coming.QUEEN KATHERINE.Speak it here.There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience,Deserves a corner. Would all other womenCould speak this with as free a soul as I do!My lords, I care not, so much I am happyAbove a number, if my actionsWere tried by every tongue, every eye saw ’em,Envy and base opinion set against ’em,I know my life so even. If your businessSeek me out, and that way I am wife in,Out with it boldly. Truth loves open dealing.WOLSEY.Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima—QUEEN KATHERINE.O, good my lord, no Latin.I am not such a truant since my comingAs not to know the language I have lived in.A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious.Pray speak in English. Here are some will thank you,If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ sake.Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal,The willing’st sin I ever yet committedMay be absolved in English.WOLSEY.Noble lady,I am sorry my integrity should breed—And service to his Majesty and you—So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.We come not by the way of accusation,To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,Nor to betray you any way to sorrow—You have too much, good lady—but to knowHow you stand minded in the weighty differenceBetween the King and you, and to deliver,Like free and honest men, our just opinionsAnd comforts to your cause.CAMPEIUS.Most honoured madam,My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,Zeal, and obedience he still bore your Grace,Forgetting, like a good man, your late censureBoth of his truth and him—which was too far—Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,His service and his counsel.QUEEN KATHERINE.[Aside.] To betray me.My lords, I thank you both for your good wills.Ye speak like honest men; pray God ye prove so.But how to make ye suddenly an answerIn such a point of weight, so near mine honour—More near my life, I fear—with my weak wit,And to such men of gravity and learning,In truth I know not. I was set at workAmong my maids, full little, God knows, lookingEither for such men or such business.For her sake that I have been—for I feelThe last fit of my greatness—good your Graces,Let me have time and counsel for my cause.Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless.WOLSEY.Madam, you wrong the King’s love with these fears;Your hopes and friends are infinite.QUEEN KATHERINE.In EnglandBut little for my profit. Can you think, lords,That any Englishman dare give me counsel?Or be a known friend, ’gainst his Highness’ pleasure,Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,They that much weigh out my afflictions,They that my trust must grow to, live not here.They are, as all my other comforts, far henceIn mine own country, lords.CAMPEIUS.I would your GraceWould leave your griefs and take my counsel.QUEEN KATHERINE.How, sir?CAMPEIUS.Put your main cause into the King’s protection.He’s loving and most gracious. ’Twill be muchBoth for your honour better and your cause,For if the trial of the law o’ertake ye,You’ll part away disgraced.WOLSEY.He tells you rightly.QUEEN KATHERINE.Ye tell me what ye wish for both: my ruin.Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye!Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judgeThat no king can corrupt.CAMPEIUS.Your rage mistakes us.QUEEN KATHERINE.The more shame for ye! Holy men I thought ye,Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.Mend ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort,The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned?I will not wish ye half my miseries;I have more charity. But say I warned ye.Take heed, for heaven’s sake, take heed, lest at onceThe burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.WOLSEY.Madam, this is a mere distraction.You turn the good we offer into envy.QUEEN KATHERINE.Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon yeAnd all such false professors! Would you have me—If you have any justice, any pity,If ye be anything but churchmen’s habits—Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?Alas, ’has banished me his bed already,His love, too, long ago. I am old, my lords,And all the fellowship I hold now with himIs only my obedience. What can happenTo me above this wretchedness? All your studiesMake me a curse like this.CAMPEIUS.Your fears are worse.QUEEN KATHERINE.Have I lived thus long—let me speak myself,Since virtue finds no friends—a wife, a true one—A woman, I dare say without vainglory,Never yet branded with suspicion—Have I with all my full affectionsStill met the King, loved him next heav’n, obeyed him,Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him,Almost forgot my prayers to content him,And am I thus rewarded? ’Tis not well, lords.Bring me a constant woman to her husband,One that ne’er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure,And to that woman, when she has done most,Yet will I add an honour: a great patience.WOLSEY.Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.QUEEN KATHERINE.My lord, I dare not make myself so guiltyTo give up willingly that noble titleYour master wed me to. Nothing but deathShall e’er divorce my dignities.WOLSEY.Pray hear me.QUEEN KATHERINE.Would I had never trod this English earthOr felt the flatteries that grow upon it!Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows your hearts.What will become of me now, wretched lady?I am the most unhappy woman living.[To her Women.] Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity,No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me,Almost no grave allowed me, like the lilyThat once was mistress of the field and flourished,I’ll hang my head and perish.WOLSEY.If your GraceCould but be brought to know our ends are honest,You’d feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady,Upon what cause, wrong you? Alas, our places,The way of our profession, is against it.We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ’em.For goodness’ sake, consider what you do,How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterlyGrow from the King’s acquaintance, by this carriage.The hearts of princes kiss obedience,So much they love it, but to stubborn spiritsThey swell and grow as terrible as storms.I know you have a gentle, noble temper,A soul as even as a calm. Pray think usThose we profess: peacemakers, friends, and servants.CAMPEIUS.Madam, you’ll find it so. You wrong your virtuesWith these weak women’s fears. A noble spirit,As yours was put into you, ever castsSuch doubts, as false coin, from it. The King loves you;Beware you lose it not. For us, if you pleaseTo trust us in your business, we are readyTo use our utmost studies in your service.QUEEN KATHERINE.Do what ye will, my lords, and pray forgive meIf I have used myself unmannerly.You know I am a woman, lacking witTo make a seemly answer to such persons.Pray do my service to his Majesty.He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayersWhile I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,Bestow your counsels on me. She now begsThat little thought, when she set footing here,She should have bought her dignities so dear.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. Ante-chamber to the King’s apartment.Enter theDuke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, Lord SurreyandLord Chamberlain.NORFOLK.If you will now unite in your complaintsAnd force them with a constancy, the CardinalCannot stand under them. If you omitThe offer of this time, I cannot promiseBut that you shall sustain more new disgracesWith these you bear already.SURREY.I am joyfulTo meet the least occasion that may give meRemembrance of my father-in-law the Duke,To be revenged on him.SUFFOLK.Which of the peersHave uncontemned gone by him, or at leastStrangely neglected? When did he regardThe stamp of nobleness in any personOut of himself?CHAMBERLAIN.My lords, you speak your pleasures.What he deserves of you and me I know;What we can do to him—though now the timeGives way to us—I much fear. If you cannotBar his access to th’ King, never attemptAnything on him, for he hath a witchcraftOver the King in ’s tongue.NORFOLK.O, fear him not.His spell in that is out. The King hath foundMatter against him that for ever marsThe honey of his language. No, he’s settled,Not to come off, in his displeasure.SURREY.Sir,I should be glad to hear such news as thisOnce every hour.NORFOLK.Believe it, this is true.In the divorce his contrary proceedingsAre all unfolded, wherein he appearsAs I would wish mine enemy.SURREY.How cameHis practices to light?SUFFOLK.Most strangely.SURREY.O, how, how?SUFFOLK.The Cardinal’s letters to the Pope miscarried,And came to th’ eye o’ the King, wherein was readHow that the Cardinal did entreat his HolinessTo stay the judgement o’ th’ divorce; for ifIt did take place, “I do” quoth he “perceiveMy king is tangled in affection toA creature of the Queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.”SURREY.Has the King this?SUFFOLK.Believe it.SURREY.Will this work?CHAMBERLAIN.The King in this perceives him how he coastsAnd hedges his own way. But in this pointAll his tricks founder, and he brings his physicAfter his patient’s death. The King alreadyHath married the fair lady.SURREY.Would he had!SUFFOLK.May you be happy in your wish, my lord,For I profess you have it.SURREY.Now, all my joyTrace the conjunction!SUFFOLK.My amen to’t!NORFOLK.All men’s.SUFFOLK.There’s order given for her coronation.Marry, this is yet but young, and may be leftTo some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,She is a gallant creature, and completeIn mind and feature. I persuade me, from herWill fall some blessing to this land which shallIn it be memorized.SURREY.But will the KingDigest this letter of the Cardinal’s?The Lord forbid!NORFOLK.Marry, amen!SUFFOLK.No, no.There be more wasps that buzz about his noseWill make this sting the sooner. Cardinal CampeiusIs stolen away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave;Has left the cause o’ th’ King unhandled, andIs posted, as the agent of our Cardinal,To second all his plot. I do assure youThe King cried “Ha!” at this.CHAMBERLAIN.Now, God incense him,And let him cry “Ha!” louder.NORFOLK.But, my lord,When returns Cranmer?SUFFOLK.He is returned in his opinions, whichHave satisfied the King for his divorce,Together with all famous collegesAlmost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe,His second marriage shall be published, andHer coronation. Katherine no moreShall be called Queen, but Princess DowagerAnd widow to Prince Arthur.NORFOLK.This same Cranmer’sA worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much painIn the King’s business.SUFFOLK.He has, and we shall see himFor it an archbishop.NORFOLK.So I hear.SUFFOLK.’Tis so.EnterWolseyandCromwell.The Cardinal!NORFOLK.Observe, observe; he’s moody.WOLSEY.The packet, Cromwell,Gave’t you the King?CROMWELL.To his own hand, in ’s bedchamber.WOLSEY.Looked he o’ th’ inside of the paper?CROMWELL.PresentlyHe did unseal them, and the first he viewed,He did it with a serious mind; a heedWas in his countenance. You he badeAttend him here this morning.WOLSEY.Is he readyTo come abroad?CROMWELL.I think by this he is.WOLSEY.Leave me a while.[ExitCromwell.][Aside.] It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,The French king’s sister; he shall marry her.Anne Bullen? No; I’ll no Anne Bullens for him.There’s more in’t than fair visage. Bullen?No, we’ll no Bullens. Speedily I wishTo hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!NORFOLK.He’s discontented.SUFFOLK.Maybe he hears the KingDoes whet his anger to him.SURREY.Sharp enough,Lord, for thy justice!WOLSEY.[Aside.] The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,To be her mistress’ mistress? The Queen’s Queen?This candle burns not clear. ’Tis I must snuff it;Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuousAnd well deserving? Yet I know her forA spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome toOur cause, that she should lie i’ th’ bosom ofOur hard-ruled King. Again, there is sprung upAn heretic, an arch-one, Cranmer, oneHath crawled into the favour of the KingAnd is his oracle.NORFOLK.He is vexed at something.EnterKing, reading a schedule, andLovell.SURREY.I would ’twere something that would fret the string,The master-cord on ’s heart.SUFFOLK.The King, the King!KING.What piles of wealth hath he accumulatedTo his own portion! And what expense by th’ hourSeems to flow from him! How, i’ th’ name of thriftDoes he rake this together? Now, my lords,Saw you the Cardinal?NORFOLK.My lord, we haveStood here observing him. Some strange commotionIs in his brain. He bites his lip, and starts,Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,Then lays his finger on his temple; straightSprings out into fast gait; then stops again,Strikes his breast hard, and anon he castsHis eye against the moon. In most strange posturesWe have seen him set himself.KING.It may well beThere is a mutiny in ’s mind. This morningPapers of state he sent me to peruse,As I required; and wot you what I foundThere—on my conscience, put unwittingly?Forsooth, an inventory, thus importingThe several parcels of his plate, his treasure,Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, whichI find at such proud rate that it outspeaksPossession of a subject.NORFOLK.It’s heaven’s will!Some spirit put this paper in the packetTo bless your eye withal.KING.If we did thinkHis contemplation were above the earthAnd fixed on spiritual object, he should stillDwell in his musings, but I am afraidHis thinkings are below the moon, not worthHis serious considering.[Kingtakes his seat; whispersLovell, who goes to theCardinal.]WOLSEY.Heaven forgive me!Ever God bless your Highness.KING.Good my lord,You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventoryOf your best graces in your mind, the whichYou were now running o’er. You have scarce timeTo steal from spiritual leisure a brief spanTo keep your earthly audit. Sure, in thatI deem you an ill husband, and am gladTo have you therein my companion.WOLSEY.Sir,For holy offices I have a time; a timeTo think upon the part of business whichI bear i’ th’ state; and Nature does requireHer times of preservation, which perforceI, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,Must give my tendance to.KING.You have said well.WOLSEY.And ever may your Highness yoke together,As I will lend you cause, my doing wellWith my well saying.KING.’Tis well said again,And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well.And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you;He said he did, and with his deed did crownHis word upon you. Since I had my office,I have kept you next my heart, have not aloneEmployed you where high profits might come home,But pared my present havings to bestowMy bounties upon you.WOLSEY.[Aside.] What should this mean?SURREY.[Aside.] The Lord increase this business!KING.Have I not made youThe prime man of the state? I pray you tell me,If what I now pronounce you have found true,And, if you may confess it, say withalIf you are bound to us or no. What say you?WOLSEY.My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,Showered on me daily, have been more than couldMy studied purposes requite, which wentBeyond all man’s endeavours. My endeavoursHave ever come too short of my desires,Yet filed with my abilities. Mine own endsHave been mine so that evermore they pointedTo th’ good of your most sacred person andThe profit of the state. For your great gracesHeaped upon me, poor undeserver, ICan nothing render but allegiant thanks,My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,Which ever has and ever shall be growing,Till death, that winter, kill it.KING.Fairly answered.A loyal and obedient subject isTherein illustrated. The honour of itDoes pay the act of it, as i’ th’ contrary,The foulness is the punishment. I presumeThat, as my hand has opened bounty to you,My heart dropped love, my power rained honour, moreOn you than any, so your hand and heart,Your brain, and every function of your power,Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,As ’twere in love’s particular, be moreTo me, your friend, than any.WOLSEY.I do professThat for your Highness’ good I ever labouredMore than mine own, that am, have, and will be.Though all the world should crack their duty to youAnd throw it from their soul, though perils didAbound as thick as thought could make ’em, andAppear in forms more horrid—yet my duty,As doth a rock against the chiding flood,Should the approach of this wild river break,And stand unshaken yours.KING.’Tis nobly spoken.Take notice, lords: he has a loyal breast,For you have seen him open’t.[Giving him papers.]Read o’er this,And after, this; and then to breakfast withWhat appetite you have.[ExitKing, frowning upon theCardinal;the nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.]WOLSEY.What should this mean?What sudden anger’s this? How have I reaped it?He parted frowning from me, as if ruinLeaped from his eyes. So looks the chafed lionUpon the daring huntsman that has galled him,Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper—I fear, the story of his anger. ’Tis so.This paper has undone me. ’Tis th’ accountOf all that world of wealth I have drawn togetherFor mine own ends—indeed, to gain the popedomAnd fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devilMade me put this main secret in the packetI sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?No new device to beat this from his brains?I know ’twill stir him strongly; yet I knowA way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,Will bring me off again. What’s this? “To th’ Pope”?The letter, as I live, with all the businessI writ to ’s Holiness. Nay then, farewell!I have touched the highest point of all my greatness,And from that full meridian of my gloryI haste now to my setting. I shall fallLike a bright exhalation in the evening,And no man see me more.Enter toWolsey, theDukes of NorfolkandSuffolk, theEarl of Surrey, and theLord Chamberlain.NORFOLK.Hear the King’s pleasure, Cardinal, who commands youTo render up the great seal presentlyInto our hands, and to confine yourselfTo Asher House, my Lord of Winchester’s,Till you hear further from his Highness.WOLSEY.Stay.Where’s your commission, lords? Words cannot carryAuthority so weighty.SUFFOLK.Who dares cross ’em,Bearing the King’s will from his mouth expressly?WOLSEY.Till I find more than will or words to do it—I mean your malice—know, officious lords,I dare and must deny it. Now I feelOf what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy!How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,As if it fed ye, and how sleek and wantonYe appear in everything may bring my ruin!Follow your envious courses, men of malice;You have Christian warrant for ’em, and no doubtIn time will find their fit rewards. That sealYou ask with such a violence, the King,Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me;Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,Tied it by letters-patents. Now, who’ll take it?SURREY.The King that gave it.WOLSEY.It must be himself, then.SURREY.Thou art a proud traitor, priest.WOLSEY.Proud lord, thou liest.Within these forty hours Surrey durst betterHave burnt that tongue than said so.SURREY.Thy ambition,Thou scarlet sin, robbed 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,Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!You sent me Deputy for Ireland,Far from his succour, from the King, from allThat might have mercy on the fault thou gav’st him,Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,Absolved him with an axe.WOLSEY.This, and all elseThis talking lord can lay upon my credit,I answer is most false. The Duke by lawFound his deserts. How innocent I wasFrom any private malice in his end,His noble jury and foul cause can witness.If I loved many words, lord, I should tell youYou have as little honesty as honour,That in the way of loyalty and truthToward the King, my ever royal master,Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,And all that love his follies.SURREY.By my soul,Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feelMy sword i’ th’ lifeblood of thee else. My lords,Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,Farewell, nobility. Let his Grace go forwardAnd dare us with his cap, like larks.WOLSEY.All goodnessIs poison to thy stomach.SURREY.Yes, that goodnessOf gleaning all the land’s wealth into one,Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion;The goodness of your intercepted packetsYou writ to the Pope against the King. Your goodness,Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,As you respect the common good, the stateOf our despised nobility, our issues,Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articlesCollected from his life. I’ll startle youWorse than the sacring bell when the brown wenchLay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.WOLSEY.How much, methinks, I could despise this man,But that I am bound in charity against it!NORFOLK.Those articles, my lord, are in the King’s hand;But thus much, they are foul ones.WOLSEY.So much fairerAnd spotless shall mine innocence ariseWhen the King knows my truth.SURREY.This cannot save you.I thank my memory I yet rememberSome of these articles, and out they shall.Now, if you can blush and cry “Guilty,” Cardinal,You’ll show a little honesty.WOLSEY.Speak on, sir;I dare your worst objections. If I blush,It is to see a nobleman want manners.SURREY.I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!First, that without the King’s assent or knowledge,You wrought to be a legate, by which powerYou maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.NORFOLK.Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or elseTo foreign princes, “ego et rex meus”Was still inscribed, in which you brought the KingTo be your servant.SUFFOLK.Then, that without the knowledgeEither of King or Council, when you wentAmbassador to the Emperor, you made boldTo carry into Flanders the great seal.SURREY.Item, you sent a large commissionTo Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,Without the King’s will or the state’s allowance,A league between his Highness and Ferrara.SUFFOLK.That out of mere ambition you have causedYour holy hat to be stamped on the King’s coin.SURREY.Then, that you have sent innumerable substance—By what means got, I leave to your own conscience—To furnish Rome and to prepare the waysYou have for dignities, to the mere undoingOf all the kingdom. Many more there are,Which, since they are of you, and odious,I will not taint my mouth with.CHAMBERLAIN.O my lord,Press not a falling man too far! ’Tis virtue.His faults lie open to the laws; let them,Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see himSo little of his great self.SURREY.I forgive him.SUFFOLK.Lord Cardinal, the King’s further pleasure is,Because all those things you have done of lateBy your power legative within this kingdomFall into th’ compass of apraemunire,That therefore such a writ be sued against youTo forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,Chattels, and whatsoever, and to beOut of the King’s protection. This is my charge.NORFOLK.And so we’ll leave you to your meditationsHow to live better. For your stubborn answerAbout the giving back the great seal to us,The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you.So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.[Exeunt all butWolsey.]WOLSEY.So farewell to the little good you bear me.Farewell? A long farewell to all my greatness!This is the state of man: today he puts forthThe tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms,And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,And when he thinks, good easy man, full surelyHis greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,This many summers in a sea of glory,But far beyond my depth. My high-blown prideAt length broke under me and now has left me,Weary and old with service, to the mercyOf a rude stream that must for ever hide me.Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretchedIs that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours!There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,More pangs and fears than wars or women have;And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,Never to hope again.EnterCromwell, standing amazed.Why, how now, Cromwell?CROMWELL.I have no power to speak, sir.WOLSEY.What, amazedAt my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonderA great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,I am fallen indeed.CROMWELL.How does your Grace?WOLSEY.Why, well.Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.I know myself now, and I feel within meA peace above all earthly dignities,A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me,I humbly thank his Grace, and from these shoulders,These ruined pillars, out of pity, takenA load would sink a navy: too much honour.O, ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burdenToo heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.CROMWELL.I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.WOLSEY.I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,To endure more miseries and greater farThan my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.What news abroad?CROMWELL.The heaviest and the worstIs your displeasure with the King.WOLSEY.God bless him.CROMWELL.The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosenLord Chancellor in your place.WOLSEY.That’s somewhat sudden.But he’s a learned man. May he continueLong in his Highness’ favour, and do justiceFor truth’s sake and his conscience, that his bones,When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,May have a tomb of orphans’ tears wept on him.What more?CROMWELL.That Cranmer is returned with welcome,Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.WOLSEY.That’s news indeed.CROMWELL.Last, that the Lady Anne,Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,This day was viewed in open as his Queen,Going to chapel, and the voice is nowOnly about her coronation.WOLSEY.There was the weight that pulled me down.O Cromwell,The King has gone beyond me. All my gloriesIn that one woman I have lost for ever.No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,Or gild again the noble troops that waitedUpon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell.I am a poor fallen man, unworthy nowTo be thy lord and master. Seek the King;That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told himWhat and how true thou art. He will advance thee;Some little memory of me will stir him—I know his noble nature—not to letThy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,Neglect him not; make use now, and provideFor thine own future safety.CROMWELL.O my lord,Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgoSo good, so noble, and so true a master?Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.The King shall have my service, but my prayersFor ever and for ever shall be yours.WOLSEY.Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tearIn all my miseries, but thou hast forced me,Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.Let’s dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell,And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mentionOf me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee;Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of gloryAnd sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in,A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.Mark but my fall and that that ruined me.Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition!By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,The image of his maker, hope to win by it?Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee.Corruption wins not more than honesty.Still in thy right hand carry gentle peaceTo silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,Thy God’s, and truth’s. Then if thou fall’st, O Cromwell,Thou fall’st a blessed martyr!Serve the King. And, prithee, lead me in.There take an inventory of all I have.To the last penny; ’tis the King’s. My robeAnd my integrity to heaven is allI dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,Had I but served my God with half the zealI served my king, He would not in mine ageHave left me naked to mine enemies.CROMWELL.Good sir, have patience.WOLSEY.So I have. Farewell,The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell.[Exeunt.]
EnterQueenand her Women, as at work.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.Sing, and disperse ’em, if thou canst. Leave working.
WOMAN[sings song.]
Orpheus with his lute made treesAnd the mountain tops that freezeBow themselves when he did sing.To his music plants and flowersEver sprung, as sun and showersThere had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play,Even the billows of the sea,Hung their heads and then lay by.In sweet music is such art,Killing care and grief of heartFall asleep or, hearing, die.
Enter aGentleman.
QUEEN KATHERINE.How now?
GENTLEMAN.An’t please your Grace, the two great CardinalsWait in the presence.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Would they speak with me?
GENTLEMAN.They willed me say so, madam.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Pray their GracesTo come near.
[ExitGentleman.]
What can be their businessWith me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour?I do not like their coming. Now I think on’t,They should be good men, their affairs as righteous.But all hoods make not monks.
Enter the twoCardinals, WolseyandCampeius.
WOLSEY.Peace to your Highness.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Your Graces find me here part of housewife;I would be all, against the worst may happen.What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
WOLSEY.May it please you, noble madam, to withdrawInto your private chamber, we shall give youThe full cause of our coming.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Speak it here.There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience,Deserves a corner. Would all other womenCould speak this with as free a soul as I do!My lords, I care not, so much I am happyAbove a number, if my actionsWere tried by every tongue, every eye saw ’em,Envy and base opinion set against ’em,I know my life so even. If your businessSeek me out, and that way I am wife in,Out with it boldly. Truth loves open dealing.
WOLSEY.Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima—
QUEEN KATHERINE.O, good my lord, no Latin.I am not such a truant since my comingAs not to know the language I have lived in.A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious.Pray speak in English. Here are some will thank you,If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ sake.Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal,The willing’st sin I ever yet committedMay be absolved in English.
WOLSEY.Noble lady,I am sorry my integrity should breed—And service to his Majesty and you—So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.We come not by the way of accusation,To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,Nor to betray you any way to sorrow—You have too much, good lady—but to knowHow you stand minded in the weighty differenceBetween the King and you, and to deliver,Like free and honest men, our just opinionsAnd comforts to your cause.
CAMPEIUS.Most honoured madam,My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,Zeal, and obedience he still bore your Grace,Forgetting, like a good man, your late censureBoth of his truth and him—which was too far—Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,His service and his counsel.
QUEEN KATHERINE.[Aside.] To betray me.My lords, I thank you both for your good wills.Ye speak like honest men; pray God ye prove so.But how to make ye suddenly an answerIn such a point of weight, so near mine honour—More near my life, I fear—with my weak wit,And to such men of gravity and learning,In truth I know not. I was set at workAmong my maids, full little, God knows, lookingEither for such men or such business.For her sake that I have been—for I feelThe last fit of my greatness—good your Graces,Let me have time and counsel for my cause.Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless.
WOLSEY.Madam, you wrong the King’s love with these fears;Your hopes and friends are infinite.
QUEEN KATHERINE.In EnglandBut little for my profit. Can you think, lords,That any Englishman dare give me counsel?Or be a known friend, ’gainst his Highness’ pleasure,Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,They that much weigh out my afflictions,They that my trust must grow to, live not here.They are, as all my other comforts, far henceIn mine own country, lords.
CAMPEIUS.I would your GraceWould leave your griefs and take my counsel.
QUEEN KATHERINE.How, sir?
CAMPEIUS.Put your main cause into the King’s protection.He’s loving and most gracious. ’Twill be muchBoth for your honour better and your cause,For if the trial of the law o’ertake ye,You’ll part away disgraced.
WOLSEY.He tells you rightly.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Ye tell me what ye wish for both: my ruin.Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye!Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judgeThat no king can corrupt.
CAMPEIUS.Your rage mistakes us.
QUEEN KATHERINE.The more shame for ye! Holy men I thought ye,Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.Mend ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort,The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned?I will not wish ye half my miseries;I have more charity. But say I warned ye.Take heed, for heaven’s sake, take heed, lest at onceThe burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
WOLSEY.Madam, this is a mere distraction.You turn the good we offer into envy.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon yeAnd all such false professors! Would you have me—If you have any justice, any pity,If ye be anything but churchmen’s habits—Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?Alas, ’has banished me his bed already,His love, too, long ago. I am old, my lords,And all the fellowship I hold now with himIs only my obedience. What can happenTo me above this wretchedness? All your studiesMake me a curse like this.
CAMPEIUS.Your fears are worse.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Have I lived thus long—let me speak myself,Since virtue finds no friends—a wife, a true one—A woman, I dare say without vainglory,Never yet branded with suspicion—Have I with all my full affectionsStill met the King, loved him next heav’n, obeyed him,Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him,Almost forgot my prayers to content him,And am I thus rewarded? ’Tis not well, lords.Bring me a constant woman to her husband,One that ne’er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure,And to that woman, when she has done most,Yet will I add an honour: a great patience.
WOLSEY.Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
QUEEN KATHERINE.My lord, I dare not make myself so guiltyTo give up willingly that noble titleYour master wed me to. Nothing but deathShall e’er divorce my dignities.
WOLSEY.Pray hear me.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Would I had never trod this English earthOr felt the flatteries that grow upon it!Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows your hearts.What will become of me now, wretched lady?I am the most unhappy woman living.[To her Women.] Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity,No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me,Almost no grave allowed me, like the lilyThat once was mistress of the field and flourished,I’ll hang my head and perish.
WOLSEY.If your GraceCould but be brought to know our ends are honest,You’d feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady,Upon what cause, wrong you? Alas, our places,The way of our profession, is against it.We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ’em.For goodness’ sake, consider what you do,How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterlyGrow from the King’s acquaintance, by this carriage.The hearts of princes kiss obedience,So much they love it, but to stubborn spiritsThey swell and grow as terrible as storms.I know you have a gentle, noble temper,A soul as even as a calm. Pray think usThose we profess: peacemakers, friends, and servants.
CAMPEIUS.Madam, you’ll find it so. You wrong your virtuesWith these weak women’s fears. A noble spirit,As yours was put into you, ever castsSuch doubts, as false coin, from it. The King loves you;Beware you lose it not. For us, if you pleaseTo trust us in your business, we are readyTo use our utmost studies in your service.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Do what ye will, my lords, and pray forgive meIf I have used myself unmannerly.You know I am a woman, lacking witTo make a seemly answer to such persons.Pray do my service to his Majesty.He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayersWhile I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,Bestow your counsels on me. She now begsThat little thought, when she set footing here,She should have bought her dignities so dear.
[Exeunt.]
Enter theDuke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, Lord SurreyandLord Chamberlain.
NORFOLK.If you will now unite in your complaintsAnd force them with a constancy, the CardinalCannot stand under them. If you omitThe offer of this time, I cannot promiseBut that you shall sustain more new disgracesWith these you bear already.
SURREY.I am joyfulTo meet the least occasion that may give meRemembrance of my father-in-law the Duke,To be revenged on him.
SUFFOLK.Which of the peersHave uncontemned gone by him, or at leastStrangely neglected? When did he regardThe stamp of nobleness in any personOut of himself?
CHAMBERLAIN.My lords, you speak your pleasures.What he deserves of you and me I know;What we can do to him—though now the timeGives way to us—I much fear. If you cannotBar his access to th’ King, never attemptAnything on him, for he hath a witchcraftOver the King in ’s tongue.
NORFOLK.O, fear him not.His spell in that is out. The King hath foundMatter against him that for ever marsThe honey of his language. No, he’s settled,Not to come off, in his displeasure.
SURREY.Sir,I should be glad to hear such news as thisOnce every hour.
NORFOLK.Believe it, this is true.In the divorce his contrary proceedingsAre all unfolded, wherein he appearsAs I would wish mine enemy.
SURREY.How cameHis practices to light?
SUFFOLK.Most strangely.
SURREY.O, how, how?
SUFFOLK.The Cardinal’s letters to the Pope miscarried,And came to th’ eye o’ the King, wherein was readHow that the Cardinal did entreat his HolinessTo stay the judgement o’ th’ divorce; for ifIt did take place, “I do” quoth he “perceiveMy king is tangled in affection toA creature of the Queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.”
SURREY.Has the King this?
SUFFOLK.Believe it.
SURREY.Will this work?
CHAMBERLAIN.The King in this perceives him how he coastsAnd hedges his own way. But in this pointAll his tricks founder, and he brings his physicAfter his patient’s death. The King alreadyHath married the fair lady.
SURREY.Would he had!
SUFFOLK.May you be happy in your wish, my lord,For I profess you have it.
SURREY.Now, all my joyTrace the conjunction!
SUFFOLK.My amen to’t!
NORFOLK.All men’s.
SUFFOLK.There’s order given for her coronation.Marry, this is yet but young, and may be leftTo some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,She is a gallant creature, and completeIn mind and feature. I persuade me, from herWill fall some blessing to this land which shallIn it be memorized.
SURREY.But will the KingDigest this letter of the Cardinal’s?The Lord forbid!
NORFOLK.Marry, amen!
SUFFOLK.No, no.There be more wasps that buzz about his noseWill make this sting the sooner. Cardinal CampeiusIs stolen away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave;Has left the cause o’ th’ King unhandled, andIs posted, as the agent of our Cardinal,To second all his plot. I do assure youThe King cried “Ha!” at this.
CHAMBERLAIN.Now, God incense him,And let him cry “Ha!” louder.
NORFOLK.But, my lord,When returns Cranmer?
SUFFOLK.He is returned in his opinions, whichHave satisfied the King for his divorce,Together with all famous collegesAlmost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe,His second marriage shall be published, andHer coronation. Katherine no moreShall be called Queen, but Princess DowagerAnd widow to Prince Arthur.
NORFOLK.This same Cranmer’sA worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much painIn the King’s business.
SUFFOLK.He has, and we shall see himFor it an archbishop.
NORFOLK.So I hear.
SUFFOLK.’Tis so.
EnterWolseyandCromwell.
The Cardinal!
NORFOLK.Observe, observe; he’s moody.
WOLSEY.The packet, Cromwell,Gave’t you the King?
CROMWELL.To his own hand, in ’s bedchamber.
WOLSEY.Looked he o’ th’ inside of the paper?
CROMWELL.PresentlyHe did unseal them, and the first he viewed,He did it with a serious mind; a heedWas in his countenance. You he badeAttend him here this morning.
WOLSEY.Is he readyTo come abroad?
CROMWELL.I think by this he is.
WOLSEY.Leave me a while.
[ExitCromwell.]
[Aside.] It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,The French king’s sister; he shall marry her.Anne Bullen? No; I’ll no Anne Bullens for him.There’s more in’t than fair visage. Bullen?No, we’ll no Bullens. Speedily I wishTo hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
NORFOLK.He’s discontented.
SUFFOLK.Maybe he hears the KingDoes whet his anger to him.
SURREY.Sharp enough,Lord, for thy justice!
WOLSEY.[Aside.] The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,To be her mistress’ mistress? The Queen’s Queen?This candle burns not clear. ’Tis I must snuff it;Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuousAnd well deserving? Yet I know her forA spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome toOur cause, that she should lie i’ th’ bosom ofOur hard-ruled King. Again, there is sprung upAn heretic, an arch-one, Cranmer, oneHath crawled into the favour of the KingAnd is his oracle.
NORFOLK.He is vexed at something.
EnterKing, reading a schedule, andLovell.
SURREY.I would ’twere something that would fret the string,The master-cord on ’s heart.
SUFFOLK.The King, the King!
KING.What piles of wealth hath he accumulatedTo his own portion! And what expense by th’ hourSeems to flow from him! How, i’ th’ name of thriftDoes he rake this together? Now, my lords,Saw you the Cardinal?
NORFOLK.My lord, we haveStood here observing him. Some strange commotionIs in his brain. He bites his lip, and starts,Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,Then lays his finger on his temple; straightSprings out into fast gait; then stops again,Strikes his breast hard, and anon he castsHis eye against the moon. In most strange posturesWe have seen him set himself.
KING.It may well beThere is a mutiny in ’s mind. This morningPapers of state he sent me to peruse,As I required; and wot you what I foundThere—on my conscience, put unwittingly?Forsooth, an inventory, thus importingThe several parcels of his plate, his treasure,Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, whichI find at such proud rate that it outspeaksPossession of a subject.
NORFOLK.It’s heaven’s will!Some spirit put this paper in the packetTo bless your eye withal.
KING.If we did thinkHis contemplation were above the earthAnd fixed on spiritual object, he should stillDwell in his musings, but I am afraidHis thinkings are below the moon, not worthHis serious considering.
[Kingtakes his seat; whispersLovell, who goes to theCardinal.]
WOLSEY.Heaven forgive me!Ever God bless your Highness.
KING.Good my lord,You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventoryOf your best graces in your mind, the whichYou were now running o’er. You have scarce timeTo steal from spiritual leisure a brief spanTo keep your earthly audit. Sure, in thatI deem you an ill husband, and am gladTo have you therein my companion.
WOLSEY.Sir,For holy offices I have a time; a timeTo think upon the part of business whichI bear i’ th’ state; and Nature does requireHer times of preservation, which perforceI, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,Must give my tendance to.
KING.You have said well.
WOLSEY.And ever may your Highness yoke together,As I will lend you cause, my doing wellWith my well saying.
KING.’Tis well said again,And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well.And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you;He said he did, and with his deed did crownHis word upon you. Since I had my office,I have kept you next my heart, have not aloneEmployed you where high profits might come home,But pared my present havings to bestowMy bounties upon you.
WOLSEY.[Aside.] What should this mean?
SURREY.[Aside.] The Lord increase this business!
KING.Have I not made youThe prime man of the state? I pray you tell me,If what I now pronounce you have found true,And, if you may confess it, say withalIf you are bound to us or no. What say you?
WOLSEY.My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,Showered on me daily, have been more than couldMy studied purposes requite, which wentBeyond all man’s endeavours. My endeavoursHave ever come too short of my desires,Yet filed with my abilities. Mine own endsHave been mine so that evermore they pointedTo th’ good of your most sacred person andThe profit of the state. For your great gracesHeaped upon me, poor undeserver, ICan nothing render but allegiant thanks,My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,Which ever has and ever shall be growing,Till death, that winter, kill it.
KING.Fairly answered.A loyal and obedient subject isTherein illustrated. The honour of itDoes pay the act of it, as i’ th’ contrary,The foulness is the punishment. I presumeThat, as my hand has opened bounty to you,My heart dropped love, my power rained honour, moreOn you than any, so your hand and heart,Your brain, and every function of your power,Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,As ’twere in love’s particular, be moreTo me, your friend, than any.
WOLSEY.I do professThat for your Highness’ good I ever labouredMore than mine own, that am, have, and will be.Though all the world should crack their duty to youAnd throw it from their soul, though perils didAbound as thick as thought could make ’em, andAppear in forms more horrid—yet my duty,As doth a rock against the chiding flood,Should the approach of this wild river break,And stand unshaken yours.
KING.’Tis nobly spoken.Take notice, lords: he has a loyal breast,For you have seen him open’t.
[Giving him papers.]
Read o’er this,And after, this; and then to breakfast withWhat appetite you have.
[ExitKing, frowning upon theCardinal;the nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.]
WOLSEY.What should this mean?What sudden anger’s this? How have I reaped it?He parted frowning from me, as if ruinLeaped from his eyes. So looks the chafed lionUpon the daring huntsman that has galled him,Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper—I fear, the story of his anger. ’Tis so.This paper has undone me. ’Tis th’ accountOf all that world of wealth I have drawn togetherFor mine own ends—indeed, to gain the popedomAnd fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devilMade me put this main secret in the packetI sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?No new device to beat this from his brains?I know ’twill stir him strongly; yet I knowA way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,Will bring me off again. What’s this? “To th’ Pope”?The letter, as I live, with all the businessI writ to ’s Holiness. Nay then, farewell!I have touched the highest point of all my greatness,And from that full meridian of my gloryI haste now to my setting. I shall fallLike a bright exhalation in the evening,And no man see me more.
Enter toWolsey, theDukes of NorfolkandSuffolk, theEarl of Surrey, and theLord Chamberlain.
NORFOLK.Hear the King’s pleasure, Cardinal, who commands youTo render up the great seal presentlyInto our hands, and to confine yourselfTo Asher House, my Lord of Winchester’s,Till you hear further from his Highness.
WOLSEY.Stay.Where’s your commission, lords? Words cannot carryAuthority so weighty.
SUFFOLK.Who dares cross ’em,Bearing the King’s will from his mouth expressly?
WOLSEY.Till I find more than will or words to do it—I mean your malice—know, officious lords,I dare and must deny it. Now I feelOf what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy!How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,As if it fed ye, and how sleek and wantonYe appear in everything may bring my ruin!Follow your envious courses, men of malice;You have Christian warrant for ’em, and no doubtIn time will find their fit rewards. That sealYou ask with such a violence, the King,Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me;Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,Tied it by letters-patents. Now, who’ll take it?
SURREY.The King that gave it.
WOLSEY.It must be himself, then.
SURREY.Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
WOLSEY.Proud lord, thou liest.Within these forty hours Surrey durst betterHave burnt that tongue than said so.
SURREY.Thy ambition,Thou scarlet sin, robbed 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,Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!You sent me Deputy for Ireland,Far from his succour, from the King, from allThat might have mercy on the fault thou gav’st him,Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,Absolved him with an axe.
WOLSEY.This, and all elseThis talking lord can lay upon my credit,I answer is most false. The Duke by lawFound his deserts. How innocent I wasFrom any private malice in his end,His noble jury and foul cause can witness.If I loved many words, lord, I should tell youYou have as little honesty as honour,That in the way of loyalty and truthToward the King, my ever royal master,Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,And all that love his follies.
SURREY.By my soul,Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feelMy sword i’ th’ lifeblood of thee else. My lords,Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,Farewell, nobility. Let his Grace go forwardAnd dare us with his cap, like larks.
WOLSEY.All goodnessIs poison to thy stomach.
SURREY.Yes, that goodnessOf gleaning all the land’s wealth into one,Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion;The goodness of your intercepted packetsYou writ to the Pope against the King. Your goodness,Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,As you respect the common good, the stateOf our despised nobility, our issues,Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articlesCollected from his life. I’ll startle youWorse than the sacring bell when the brown wenchLay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.
WOLSEY.How much, methinks, I could despise this man,But that I am bound in charity against it!
NORFOLK.Those articles, my lord, are in the King’s hand;But thus much, they are foul ones.
WOLSEY.So much fairerAnd spotless shall mine innocence ariseWhen the King knows my truth.
SURREY.This cannot save you.I thank my memory I yet rememberSome of these articles, and out they shall.Now, if you can blush and cry “Guilty,” Cardinal,You’ll show a little honesty.
WOLSEY.Speak on, sir;I dare your worst objections. If I blush,It is to see a nobleman want manners.
SURREY.I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!First, that without the King’s assent or knowledge,You wrought to be a legate, by which powerYou maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.
NORFOLK.Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or elseTo foreign princes, “ego et rex meus”Was still inscribed, in which you brought the KingTo be your servant.
SUFFOLK.Then, that without the knowledgeEither of King or Council, when you wentAmbassador to the Emperor, you made boldTo carry into Flanders the great seal.
SURREY.Item, you sent a large commissionTo Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,Without the King’s will or the state’s allowance,A league between his Highness and Ferrara.
SUFFOLK.That out of mere ambition you have causedYour holy hat to be stamped on the King’s coin.
SURREY.Then, that you have sent innumerable substance—By what means got, I leave to your own conscience—To furnish Rome and to prepare the waysYou have for dignities, to the mere undoingOf all the kingdom. Many more there are,Which, since they are of you, and odious,I will not taint my mouth with.
CHAMBERLAIN.O my lord,Press not a falling man too far! ’Tis virtue.His faults lie open to the laws; let them,Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see himSo little of his great self.
SURREY.I forgive him.
SUFFOLK.Lord Cardinal, the King’s further pleasure is,Because all those things you have done of lateBy your power legative within this kingdomFall into th’ compass of apraemunire,That therefore such a writ be sued against youTo forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,Chattels, and whatsoever, and to beOut of the King’s protection. This is my charge.
NORFOLK.And so we’ll leave you to your meditationsHow to live better. For your stubborn answerAbout the giving back the great seal to us,The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you.So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.
[Exeunt all butWolsey.]
WOLSEY.So farewell to the little good you bear me.Farewell? A long farewell to all my greatness!This is the state of man: today he puts forthThe tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms,And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,And when he thinks, good easy man, full surelyHis greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,This many summers in a sea of glory,But far beyond my depth. My high-blown prideAt length broke under me and now has left me,Weary and old with service, to the mercyOf a rude stream that must for ever hide me.Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretchedIs that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours!There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,More pangs and fears than wars or women have;And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,Never to hope again.
EnterCromwell, standing amazed.
Why, how now, Cromwell?
CROMWELL.I have no power to speak, sir.
WOLSEY.What, amazedAt my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonderA great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,I am fallen indeed.
CROMWELL.How does your Grace?
WOLSEY.Why, well.Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.I know myself now, and I feel within meA peace above all earthly dignities,A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me,I humbly thank his Grace, and from these shoulders,These ruined pillars, out of pity, takenA load would sink a navy: too much honour.O, ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burdenToo heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
CROMWELL.I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.
WOLSEY.I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,To endure more miseries and greater farThan my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.What news abroad?
CROMWELL.The heaviest and the worstIs your displeasure with the King.
WOLSEY.God bless him.
CROMWELL.The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosenLord Chancellor in your place.
WOLSEY.That’s somewhat sudden.But he’s a learned man. May he continueLong in his Highness’ favour, and do justiceFor truth’s sake and his conscience, that his bones,When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,May have a tomb of orphans’ tears wept on him.What more?
CROMWELL.That Cranmer is returned with welcome,Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
WOLSEY.That’s news indeed.
CROMWELL.Last, that the Lady Anne,Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,This day was viewed in open as his Queen,Going to chapel, and the voice is nowOnly about her coronation.
WOLSEY.There was the weight that pulled me down.O Cromwell,The King has gone beyond me. All my gloriesIn that one woman I have lost for ever.No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,Or gild again the noble troops that waitedUpon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell.I am a poor fallen man, unworthy nowTo be thy lord and master. Seek the King;That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told himWhat and how true thou art. He will advance thee;Some little memory of me will stir him—I know his noble nature—not to letThy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,Neglect him not; make use now, and provideFor thine own future safety.
CROMWELL.O my lord,Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgoSo good, so noble, and so true a master?Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.The King shall have my service, but my prayersFor ever and for ever shall be yours.
WOLSEY.Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tearIn all my miseries, but thou hast forced me,Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.Let’s dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell,And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mentionOf me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee;Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of gloryAnd sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in,A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.Mark but my fall and that that ruined me.Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition!By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,The image of his maker, hope to win by it?Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee.Corruption wins not more than honesty.Still in thy right hand carry gentle peaceTo silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,Thy God’s, and truth’s. Then if thou fall’st, O Cromwell,Thou fall’st a blessed martyr!Serve the King. And, prithee, lead me in.There take an inventory of all I have.To the last penny; ’tis the King’s. My robeAnd my integrity to heaven is allI dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,Had I but served my God with half the zealI served my king, He would not in mine ageHave left me naked to mine enemies.
CROMWELL.Good sir, have patience.
WOLSEY.So I have. Farewell,The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell.
[Exeunt.]