The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome, [To Campeius. Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom; Use us, and it :-My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker. [To Wolsey. Wol. Sir, you cannot. I would your grace would give us but an hour Of private conference.
We are busy; go. [To Norfolk and Suffolk. Nor. This priest has no pride in him?" Suff
I would not be so sick though, for his
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms, Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius; Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms, I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves; They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble: to your highness' hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue, (The court of Rome commanding,)-you, my lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant, In the unpartial judging of this business.
K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted Forthwith, for what you come :- -Where's Gardiner? Wol. I know, your majesty has always lov'd her
(1) So sick as he is proud. (2) Out of the king's presence.
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal, Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; [Exit Wolsey.
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner. Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you; You are the king's now.
But to be commanded For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. [Aside. K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. [They converse apart. Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace In this man's place before him? Wol.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man? Wol.
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then
Even of yourself, lord cardinal. Wol. How! of me? Cam. They will not stick to say, you envied him; And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man2 still; which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and died.
Wol. Heaven's peace be with him! That's christian care enough: for living murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a fool; For he would needs be virtuous: That good fellow, If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. [Exit Gardiner.
The most convenient place that I can think of, For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars; There ye shall meet about this weighty business: My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O my lord, Would it not grieve an able man, to leave So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, con- science,-
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Ere. SCENE III-An ante-chamber in the Queen's apartments. Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
Anne. Not for that neither;-Here's the pang
His highness having liv'd so long with her: and she So good a lady, that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life, She never knew harm-doing;-O now, after So many courses of the sun enthron'd, Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which To leave is a thousand-fold more bitter, than 'Tis sweet at first to acquire,-after this process, To give her the avaunt!3 it is a pity Would move a monster.
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her. Anne. O, God's will! much better, She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal, Yet, if that quarrel,4 fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soul and body's severing. Old L. Alas, poor lady!
By my troth, and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen. Old L. Beshrew me, I would, And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy :
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; Which, to say sooth,3 are blessings: and which gifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, If you might please to stretch it. Anne. Nay, good troth,- Old L. Yes, troth, and troth,-You would not be a queen?
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you, What think you of a duchess? have you limbs To bear that load of title?
Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a little;
I would not be a young count in your way, For more than blushing comes to: if your back Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak Ever to get a boy.
How you do talk! I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
Old L. In faith for little England You'd venture an emballing: I myself Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
More than my all, is nothing: nor my prayers Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers, and wishes,
Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.
Lady, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,6 The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well; [Aside.
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, That they have caught the king: and who knows yet,
But from this lady may proceed a gem, To lighten all this isle?-I'll to the king, And say, I spoke with you. Anne.
My honour'd lord. [Exit Lord Chamberlain. Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court, (Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could Come pat betwixt too early and too late, For any suit of pounds: and you, (O fate!) A very fresh-fish here, (fie, fie upon This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up, Before you open it.
This is strange to me. Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. There was a lady once ('tis an old story,) That would not be a queen, that would she not, For all the mud in Egypt:-Have you heard it? Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
Old L. With your theme, I could O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke! A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect; No other obligation: By my life,
That promises more thousands: Honour's train Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a duchess;-Say, Are you not stronger than you were? Anne. Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me, To think what follows.
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful In our long absence: Pray, do not deliver
Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What were't worth What here you have heard, to her. to know
The secret of your conference?
Anne. My good lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming The action of good women: there is hope, All will be well.
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty Commends his good opinion to you, and Does purpose honour to you no less flowing Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pound a year, annual support, Out of his grace he adds.
Anne. I do not know, What kind of my obedience I should tender;
(1) No longer an Englishwoman. (2) Possession. (3) Truth. (4) Kid-skin. (5) Crook'd.
Old L. What do you think me? [Exeunt. SCENE IV-A Hall in Black-Friars. Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in the habits of doctors; after them, the Archbishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver cross; then a Gentleman Usher bare-headed, accompanied with a Serjeant at Arms, bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars, after them, side by side, the two Cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius; two Noblemen with the sword and mace. Then enter the King and Queen, and their trains. The King takes place under the cloth of state; the two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The Queen takes place at some
Crier. Katharine, queen of England, &c. [The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.]
Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
And to bestow your pity on me: for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, Born out of your dominions; having here No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, In what have I offended you? what cause Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, That thus you should proceed to put me off, And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, I have been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable : Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He were mine enemy? what friend of mine That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife, in this obedience, Upward of twenty years, and have been blest With many children by you: If, in the course And process of this time, you can report And prove it too, against mine honour aught, My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, Against your sacred person, in God's name, Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, The king, your father, was reputed for A prince most prudent, of an excellent And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many A year before: It is not to be question'd That they had gather'd a wise council to them Of every realm, that did debate this business, Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel I will implore: if not, i'the name of God, Your pleasure be fulfill'd! Wol.
You have here, lady, (2) Deny.
You are mine enemy; and make my challenge, You shall not be my judge: for it is you Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,- Which God's dew quench!-Therefore, I say again, I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul,
Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more, I hold my most malicious foe, and think not At all a friend to truth.
I do profess You speak not like yourself; who ever yet Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom O'er-topping woman's power. Madam, you do me
I have no spleen against you; nor injustice For you, or any: how far I have proceeded, Or how far further shall, is warranted By a commission from the consistory, Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me, That I have blown this coal: I do deny it : The king is present: if it be known to him, That I gainsay2 my deed, how may he wound, And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as much As you have done my truth. But if he know, That I am free of your report, he knows, I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies, to cure me: and the cure is, to Remove these thoughts from you: The which before His highness shall speak in, I do beseech You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking, And to say so no more.
My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and hum
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,3 With meekness and humility: but your heart Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours, Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted Where powers are your retainers: and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, You tender more your person's honour, than Your high profession spiritual: That again I do refuse you for my judge; and here, Before you all, appeal unto the pope,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, And to be judg'd by him.
[She court'sies to the King, and offers to depart. Cam. The queen is obstinate, Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainful to be try'd by it; 'tis not well.
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,
Crier. Katharine, queen of England, come into I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had
Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.
Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:
When you are call'd, return.-Now the Lord help, They vex me past my patience!—pray you, pass on: I will not tarry; no, nor ever more, Upon this business, my appearance make In any of their courts.
Exe. Queen, Grif. and her other attendants. K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate: That man i'the world, who shall report he has A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,- Obeying in commanding,-and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,1) The queen of earthly queens :-She is noble born; And, like her true nobility, she has Carried herself towards me.
Wol. Most gracious sir, In humblest manner I require your highness, That it shall please you to declare, in hearing Of all these ears (for where I am robb'd and bound, There must I be unloos'd; although not there At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever I Did broach this business to your highness; or Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question on't? or ever Have to you, but with thanks to God for such A royal lady,-spake one the least word, might Be to the prejudice of her present state, Or touch of her good person? K. Hen. My lord cardinal, 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 You are excus'd: anger. 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 made3 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 received 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 busi-
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 judgment 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 rectify 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 Linco, you remember How under my oppression did reek,5 When I first mov'd you.
Very well, my liege. K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself
to say How far you satisfied me.
Lin. So please your highness, The question did at first so stagger me,Bearing a state of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread,-that I committed The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt; And did entreat your highness to this course, Which you are running here. K. Hen. I then mov'd you, My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave To make this present summons:--Unsolicited I left no reverend person in this court; 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 lawful, 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: Meanwhile 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 7 with thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along. Break up the court: I say, set on. [Exe. in manner as they entered.
(5) Waste, or wear away.
(6) Without compare.
(7) An apostrophe to the absent bishop.
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 billows 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. How now?
Gent. An't please your grace, t dinals
Wait in the presence. 1
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. 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,
the two great car- 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.
Q. Kath. Would they speak with me? Gent. They will'd me say so, madam. Q. Kath. Pray their graces To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their business
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 affairs2 are right-
But all hoods make not monks.
Enter Wolsey and Campeius.
Peace to your highness! Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a housewife;
I would by all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to with- draw
Into your private chamber, we shall give you 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 Ï am wife in, Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing. Wol. Tanta est ergà te mentis integritas, regina
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 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, They that my trust must grow to, live not here; They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, In mine own country, lords. Cam. 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 pro- tection;
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. Wol. 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.
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 comfort?
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