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Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro

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'll part away disgrac’d.

He tells you rightly.
Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my

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.

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?

Is this your


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 hiin
Is only my obedience. What can happen
To me, above this wretchedness? all studies
Make me a curse like this.

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

myself, Since virtue finds no friends, )—a wife, a true one? 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,-a great patience. Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we

aim at. Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so

To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

'Pray, hear me.
Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English



for me,

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 women. Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope; no kindred weep 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. Wol.

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 ; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this car

riage. 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 ser,

vants. Cam. Madam, you'll find it so.

you do;

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

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. Kuth. 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.




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


shall sustain more new disgraces, With these you bear already.


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.

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


and me, I know; What we can do to him, (though now the time Gives way to us,) I much fear. If


Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his tongue.

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.

I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.

Believe it, this is true.
In the divorce, his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears,
As I could wish mine enemy.

How came
His practices to light?

Most strangely.

O, how, how:

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