I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,
I free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
Bark when their fellows do: by some of these
The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd:
But will you be more justified? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd; oft
The passages made toward it:-on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,

And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't,-
I will be bold with time, and your attention :—
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came-give
heed to't :-

My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he

(I mean, the bishop,) did require a respite;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast; which forc'd such way,
"That many maz'd considerings did throng,
And press'd in with this caution. First, methought,
I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had
Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
If not conceiv'd a male child by me, should
Do no more offices of life to't, than

The grave does to the dead: for her male issue
Or died where they were made, or shortly after
This world had air'd them: Hence I took a thought,
This was a judgement on me; that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should not
Be gladded in't by me: Then follows, that
I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present here together; that's to say,
I meant to reétify my conscience,-which
I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,-
By all the reverend fathers of the land,
And doctors learn'd.-First, I began in private
With you, my lord of Lincoln; you remember
How under my oppression I did reek,

When I first mov'd you.

But by particular consent proceeded,
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on:
For no dislike i'the world against the person
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons drive this forward:
Prove but our marriage law, by my life,
And kingly dignity, we are contented

To wear our mortal state to come, with her,
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
That's paragon'd o'the world.

Cam.
So please your highness,
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day;
Mean while must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart.
K. Hen.
I may perceive, [Aside:
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Pr'ythee, return! with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
I say, set on.

[Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.

m

ACT III.

SCENE I-Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the Queen's Apartment. The Queen, and some of her Women, at work.

Q. Katharine.

TAKE thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with

troubles;

Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops, that freeze,

Bow themselves, when he did sing; To his music, plants, and flowers, Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,

There had been a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billaws of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art;

Killing care, and grief of heart,

Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

Enter a Gentleman.

Q. Kath.

Pray their graces

To come near. [Exit Gen.] What can be their busi

ness

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour? I do not like their coming, now I think on't.

They should be good men; their affairs as righteous: But all hoods make not monks.

Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a housewife:

I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?

Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw

Into your private chamber, we shall give you

Cam.

The full cause of our coming.
Q. Kath.
Speak it here;
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
Deserves a corner: 'Would all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy
Above a number,) if my actions

Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,
Envy and base opinion set against them,
I know my life so even: If your business

Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,

Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing.

Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,

Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin;

I am not such a truant since my coming,
As not to know the language I have liv'd in :

A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, sus

picious;

Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
May be absolv'd in English.

Noble lady,

Wol.
I am sorry, my integrity should breed,
(And service to his majesty and you,)
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation,

To taint that honour every good tongue blesses;
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;
You have too much, good lady: but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you; and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions,
And comforts to your cause.

Cam.
Most honour'd madam,
My lord of York,-out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace;
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Both of his truth and him, (which was too far,)--
Offers. as I do, in a sign of peace,

His service and his counsel.

To betray me.

[Aside.

Q. Kath. My lords, I thank you both for your good wills, Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!) But how to make you suddenly an answer, In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, (More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking Either for such men, or such business. For her sake that I have been, (for I feel The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears;

Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q. Kath.
In England,
But little for my profit: Can you think, lords,
That any Englishman dare give me couusel ?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,)
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions,

They that my trust must grow to, live not here;
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,
In mine own country, lords,

I would, your grace

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruin Is this your christian counsel ? out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, That no king can corrupt. Cam.

Your rage mistakes us. Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men, I thought ye,

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

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish ye half my miseries,

I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity;

If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,)
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already ;
His love, too long ago: I am old my lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience. What can happen
To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.

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 dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour,-a great patience.
Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,
To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shail e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol.

'Pray, hear me. Q. Kath. 'Would, I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady?

I am the most unhappy woman living.Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? [To her Wome

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,

No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me,
Almost, no grave allow'd me:-Like the lily.
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

If your grace

Wol. Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places, The way of our profession is against it;

We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them.

For goodness' sake, consider what you do ;

How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly

Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience,

So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,

They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.

I know, you have a gentle, noble temper,

A soul as even as a calm: Pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your
virtues

With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts

Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves

you;

Beware, you lose it not: For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray, forgive me,

If I have us'd myself unmannerly;

You know, I am a woman, lacking wit

To make a seemly answer to such persons.

Pray, do my service to his majesty:

He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers,
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear. [Exe.

SCENE II.-Ante-chamber to the King's Apartment.
Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the duke of Suffolk, the
Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: if you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.

Sur.

I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, To be reveng'd on him.

Suf. Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person,

Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures: What he deserves of you and me, I know; What we can do to him, (though now the time Gives way to us) I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to the king, never attempt Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft

Over the king in his tongue.

Nor.

O, fear him not; His spell in that is out: the king hath found Matter against him, that for ever mars The honey of his language. No, he's settled, Not to come off, in his displeasure.

daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!-
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes.-What though I know her virtuous,
And well-deserving? yet I know her for

A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of

Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one. Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.

"Tis well said again;
And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well;
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you:
He said, he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,

I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

Wol.

K. Hen.

What should this mean? Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray, you tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal,

If you are bound to us, or no. What say you?

Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man's endeavours :-my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it.

K. Hen.

Fairly answer'd; A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated: the honour of it Does pay the act of it; as, i'the contrary, The foulness is the punishment. I presume, That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more On you, than any; so your hand, and heart

I do profess,

That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul; though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

K. Her.. 'Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open it.-Read o'er this ; [Giving him papers. And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have. [Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.

Wol.
What should this mean?
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear. the story of his anger.-'Tis so ;
This paper has undone me :-'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For nine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,

Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune

Will bring ine off again. What's this-To the Pope?
The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; And, from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall

Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Sur.
Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,)
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland:

Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,

Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol. This, and all else This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The duke by law Found his deserts how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness. If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you, You have as little honesty as honour; That I, in the way of loyalty and troth Toward the king, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies.

By my soul,

Sur. Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st feel My sword i'the life-blood of thee else.-My lords, Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward, And dare us with his cap, like larks. Wol.

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur.

All goodness

Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;

Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who com

mands you

To render up the great seal presently Into our hands; and to confine yourself To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his highness. Wol.

Stay,

Who dare cross them?

Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Suf.
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,

(I mean, your mafice,) know, officious lords,

I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel

Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,-envy.

How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,

As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton

Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;

You have christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,

You writ to the pope, against the king: your goodness,
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious,-
My lord of Norfolk,--as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,-
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:-I'll startle you
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it!

Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand: But, thus much, they are foul ones.