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Wol. Tanta est ergà te mentis integritas, regina sere

nissima, Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin ; 9 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

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,
I am sorry, my integrity should breed,
(And service to his majesty and you)1
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. 2

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.
Q. Kath.

To betray me. [Aside.

9O good my lord, no Latin;] So, Holinshed, p. 908:

“ Then began the cardinail to speake to her in Latine. Naie good my lord (quoth she) speake to me in English.” Steevens.

1 (And service to his majesty and you)] This line stands so very aukwardly, that I am inclined to think it out of its place. The au. thor perhaps wrote, as Mr. Edwards has suggested:

“I am sorry my integrity should breed
“ So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant,
“ And service to bis majesty and you.” Malone.

to your cuuse.] Old copy-our cause. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone.

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!)
But how to make ye suddenly an answer,
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,
(More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit,
And to such men of gravity and learning,
In truth, I know not. I was set at work
Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking
Either for such men, or such business.
For her sake that I have been, 3 (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

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 counsel?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest)*
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions, 5
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
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
Q. Kath.

How, sir? Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection;

3 For her sake that I have been, &c.] For the sake of that royalty which I have heretofore possessed. “Malone.

4 ( Though he be grown so desperate to be honest)] Do you think that any Englishman dare advise me ; or, if any man should venture to advise with honesty, that he could live? Fohnson.

5 weigh out my afflictions.] This phrase is obscure. To. weigh out, is, in modern language, to deliver by weight; but this sense cannot be here admitted. To weigh is likewise to deliberate upon, to consider with due attention. This may, perhaps, be meant. Or the phrase, to weigh out, may signify to counterbalance, to counteract with equal force. Johnson.

To weigh out is the same as to outweigh. In Macbeth, Shakspeare. has overcome for come over. Steedens.

He's loving, and most gracious: 'twill be much
Both for your honour better, and your cause;
For, if the trial of the law o’ertake you,
You ’li part away disgrac’d.

He tells you rightly.
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

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 comfort?
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.

Your fears are worse.
Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long-(let me speak my-

Since virtue finds no friends, a wife, a true one?

6 The more shame for ye;) If I mistake you, it is by your fault, not mine; for I thought you good. The distress of Katharine might have kept her from the quibble to which she is irresistibly tempted by the word cardinal. Fohnson.

A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,)
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov’d him next heaven? obey'd 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 dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour 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 Shall 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, 8 but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady?

7 superstitious to him?] That is, served him with superstitious attention ; done more than was required. Fohnson.

& Ye have angels' faces,] She may perhaps allude to the old jingle of Angli and Angeli. Johnson.

I find this jingle in The Arraygnment of Paris, 1584. The goddesses refer ihe dispute about the golden apple to the decision of Diana, who setting aside their respective claims, awards it to Queen Elizabeth; and adds:

“ Her people are ycleped angeli,

“Or if I miss a letter, is the most." In this pastoral, as it is called, the Queen herself may be al. most said to have been a performer, for at the conclusion of it, Diana gives the golden apple into her hands, and the Fates de. posit their insignia at her feet. It was presented before her Ma. jesty by the children of her chapel.

It appears, from the following passage in The Spanish Masque. rado, by Greene, 1585, that this quibble was originally the quib. ble of a saint: “ England, a little island, where, as saint Augustin saith, there be people with angel faces, so the inhabitants have the courage and hearts of lyons.Steevens.

See also Nashe's Anatomie of Absurditie, 1589: “For my part I meane to suspend my sentence, and let an author of late memo. rie be my speaker; who affirmeth that they carry angels in their faces, and devils in their devices." Malone.

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

To her Women.
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 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.1 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 vir

tues 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

9- the lily,

That once was mistress of the field] So, in Spenser's Fairy Queen, Book II, c. vi, st. 16:

“ The lily, lady of the flow'ring field.” H. White. 1 The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,

They swell, and grow as terrihle as storms.] It was one of the charges brought against Lord Essex, in the year before this play was probably written, by his ungrateful kinsman, Sir Francis Bacon, when that nobleman, to the disgrace of humanity, was obliged, by a junto of his enemies, to kneel at the end of the council-table for several hours, that in a letter written during his retirement, in 1598, to the Lord Keeper, he had said, “ There is no tempest to the passionate indignation of a prince." Malone.

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