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A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heaven has an end in all: Yet you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels,
Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make
friends,

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to sink ye. AH good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour,
Of my long weary life has come upon me.
Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive
me!
[Exeunt Buckingham and train.
1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!-Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads,
That were the authors.

2 Gent.

If the duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of wo: yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.

1 Gent.
Good angels keep it from us!
Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith' to conceal it.

1 Gent.

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Let me have it;

I am confident;

You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear

A buzzing, of a separation
Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent.

Yes, but it held not;
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

2 Gent.

But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now: for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain,
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her: To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.

1 Gent.
'Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is't
not cruel,

That she should feel the smart of this?
Will have his will, and she must fall.
1 Gent.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

The cardinal

'Tis woful.

[Exeunt.

He will have all, I think.

Act II.

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This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal;
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him one

day.

Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself else.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business!
And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great
league
nephew,

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his mar-

riage:

And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ;
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with: even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king: And is not this course pious?
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel: 'Tis
most true,

These news are every where; every tongue speaks
them,

And every true heart weeps for't: All, that dare
Look into these affairs, see this main end,-
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
The king's eves, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

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I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:
For me, my lords,
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the king please; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.

SCENE II.-An ante-chamber in the palace. I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him

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Cham. My lord,-The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, rid-And, with some other business, put the king den, and furnished. They were young, and hand- From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon some; and of the best breed in the north. When My lord, you'll bear us company? they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by commission, and main The king hath sent me other-where: Besides, power, took 'em from me; with this reason,-His You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: master would be served before a subject, if not before the king: which stopped our mouths, sir. Health to your lordships. fear he will, indeed: Well, let him have them: Nor.

(1) Great fidelity.

Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain.

(2) High or low.

Norfolk opens a folding-door. The King is discovered sitting, and reading pensively.

Suff. How sad he looks! sure, he is much af-
flicted.

K. Hen. Who is there? ha?
Nor.

'Pray God, he be not angry. K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way,
Is business of estate; in which, we come
To know your royal pleasure.

K. Hen.

You are too bold: Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business : Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?—

Enter Wolsey and Campeius.

So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my
favour
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
I find him a fit fellow.
[Exit Wolsey.

Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour
You are the king's now.
to you;
Gard.

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
Wol.
Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Wol.
Yes, surely.
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
then
Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Who's there? my good lord cardinal?-O my In this man's place before him.

Wolsey,

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.

Wol.

[To Wolsey.
Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

K. Hen.

We are busy; go.
[To Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor. This priest has no pride in him?"
Not to speak of;

Suff
I would not be so sick though,' for his
place:

But this cannot continue.

Nor.

If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.
Suff

Aside.

I another.
[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 judg-

ment,

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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.

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. [Exe.
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
that pinches :

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:- 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! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

Old L.
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, fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old L.

Hearts of most hard temper

(3) A sentence of ejection.

Alas, poor lady! (4) Quarreller.

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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,' 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?
No, in truth.

Anne.

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.

Anne.

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 coines

here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What were't to know

The secret of your conference?

Anne.

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I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,"
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.
Anne.
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 foreskin. 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
worthWhat here you have heard, to her.

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.

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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 gs judges. The Queen takes place at some

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distance from the King. The Bishops place (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men themselves on each side the court, in manner of Of singular integrity and learning,

a consistory; between them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of the attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.

Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded.

K. Hen.

Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled
To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless,'
That longer you desire the court; as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettled in the king.

Cam.

His grace

Hath spoken well, and justly: Therefore, madam,
It's fit this royal session do proceed;
And that, without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.

What's the need?
It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd:
You may then spare that time.
Wol.
Scribe. Say, Henry, king of England, come into To you I speak.

the court.

Be't so:-Proceed.

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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. Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice;

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,
I 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,

Q. Kath.

Wol.
Q. Kath.

Lord cardinal,

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I am about to weep; but thinking that
We are a queen, (or long have dream'd so,) certain,
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.

Be patient yet.

Wol.
Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; nay,
before,

Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
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.

Wol.
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

wrong:

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 gainsay 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.

Q. Kath.

My lord, my lord,

I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and hum-

ble-mouth'd;

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

Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I Where powers are your retainers: and your words,

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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.

She's going away.

K. Hen.

Call her again.

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

the court.

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,')
The queen of earthly queens:-She is noble born;
And, like her true nobility, she has
Carried herself towards me.

Wol.

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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 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 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 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-
ness,

Ere a determinate resolution, he

(I mean the bishop) did require a respite; Wherein he might the king his lord advertise

(1) Speak out thy merits.

(2) Immediately satisfied.
(3) Closed or fastened.
(4) Floating without guidance.

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 where 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 Lincoln; you remember
How under my oppression I did reek,
When I first mov'd you.

Lin.

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, [Åside. These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. My learn'd and well-belov'd servant, Cranmer, Pr'ythee, return!" 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.

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