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groan for 't.







Lov. To the water side I must conduct your

Grace; Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who undertakes you to your end. Vaur.

Prepare there, The Duke is coming. See the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suits The greatness of his person. Buck.

Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Consta

ble And Duke of Buckingham ; now, poor Edward

Bohun. Yet I am richer than my base accusers, That never knew what truth meant. I now

seal it; And with that blood will make 'em one day My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais'd head against usurping. Richard, Flying for succour to his servant Banister, Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd, And without trial fell; God's peace be with

him! Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying My father's loss, like a most royal prince, Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins, Made my name once more noble. Now his

son, Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all That made me happy, at one stroke has taken For ever from the world. I had my trial, And, must needs say, a noble one;

which makes me A little happier than my wretched father. Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd

most; 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 coun

sels Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make

friends And give your hearts to, when they once per

ceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye; never found again But where they mean to sink ye. All good

people, Pray for me! I must now forsake ye. The

last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell ! And when you would say something that is

sad, Speak how I fell. I have done ; and God for

give me! [Exeunt Duke 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 woe; yet I can give you inkling 140 Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this.

1. Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! What may it be? You do not doubt my faith,

sir ? 2. Gent. This secret is so weighty, 't will re

quire A strong faith to conceal it. 1. Gent.

Let me have it. I do not talk much. 2. Gent.

I am confident; You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear A buzzing of a separation Between the King and Katherine ? 1. Gent.

Yes, but it held not; 149 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 cer

tain The King will venture at it. Either the CardiOr some about him near, have, out of malice To the good Queen, possess'd him with a scruThat 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? The

Cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall. 1. Gent.

'Tis woeful. We are too open here to argue this ; Let's think in private more.

(Exeunt. SCENE II. (An ante-chamber in the palace.) Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN, reading this

letter : (Cham.] “My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had,

I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish’d. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by [5 commission and main power, took 'em from me, with this reason: His master would be serv'd before a subject, if not before the King; which stopp'd our mouths, sir.' I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them; He will have all, I think, Enter, to the Lord Chamberlain, the DUKES OF

Nor. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good day to both your Graces.
Suf. How is the King employ'd ?

I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

What's the cause ?








'Tis so.





Cham. It seems the marriage with his bro

ther's wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suf.

No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady.

Nor. This is the Cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal. That blind priest, like the eldest son of For

tune, Turns what he list. The King will know him

one day. Suf. Pray God he do! he'll never know him

self else. Nor. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd

the league Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's

great nephew, He dives into the King's soul, and there scat

ters 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 That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; Of her that loves him with that excellence That angels love good men with ; even of her 35 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 !

'T is most true These news are everywhere; every tongue

speaks 'em, 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 eyes, that so long have slept upon This bold bad man. Suf.

And free us from his slavery. Nor. We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliverance; Or this imperious man will work us all From princes into pages. All men's honours Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please. Suf.

For me, my lords, 50 I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed. As I am made without him, so I'll stand, If the King please; his curses and his bless

ings Touch me alike, they 're breath I not believe

in. I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him 85 To him that made him proud, the Pope. Nor.

Let's in; And with some other business put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much

You 'll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
Health to your lordships.
Nor. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.

(Exit Lord Chamberlain; (Norfolk

draws the curtain, and discor

ers) the King reading pensively. Suf. How sad he looks ! Sure, he is much

afflicted. King. Who's there, ha? Nor.

Pray God he be not angry. King. 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 of

fences Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this

Is business of estate; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.

Ye are too bold.
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of busi-
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS, with a commis-

sion. Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal ? O muy

Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a king. (To Camp.)

You 're welcome, Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom; Use us and it. [To Wol.] My good lord, have

great care I be not found a talker. Wol.

Şir, you cannot. I would your Grace would give us but an hour Of private

conference. King. [To Nor. and Suf.) We are busy; go. Nor! (Àside to Suf.) This priest has no pride

in him?
Suf; (Aside to Nor.] Not to speak of.
I would not be so sick, though, for his place.
But this cannot continue.

Nor. (Aside to Suf.] If it do,
I'll venture one have-at-him.
Suf. (Aside to Nor.) I another.

[Ereunt Nor. and Saf. 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 The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodneas, a The trial just and noble. All the clerks, I mean the learned ones, in Christian king

doms Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of

judgement, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, Cardinal Cam

peius, Whom once more I present unto your Highness.




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upon him.

My lord, you 'll bear us company ?

Excuse me; The King has sent me otherwhere. Besides, 66







King. 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 for. 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 comm

nmanding, you, my Lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their ser

vant In the unpartial judging of this business. King. Two equal men. The Queen shall be

acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardi

ner? Wol. I know your Majesty has always lov'd

her 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. King. Ay, and the best she shall have, and

my favour To him that does best; God forbid else. Car

dinal, Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary, I find him a fit fellow.

(Exit Wolsey.) Re-enter (Wolsey, with] GARDINER. Wol. (Aside to Gard.] Give me your hand.

Much joy and favour to you; You are the King's now.

Gard. (Aside to Wol.] But to be commanded For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd King. Come hither, Gardiner.

(Walks and whispers. Cam. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor

In this man's place before him?

Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?

Yes, surely. 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 envi'd

him, And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still ; which so griev'd

him, That he ran mad and died. Wol.


's peace be with him! That's Christian care enough. For living murThere's places of rebuke. He was a fool, For he would needs be virtuous. That good fel

low, If I command him, follows my appointment; I will have none so near else. Learn this, bro

ther, We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. King. Deliver this with modesty to the Queen.

[Erit 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 busi

ness. 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, 't is a tender place; and I must leave her.

(Exeunt. SCENE III. (An ante-chamber of 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

So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her, - by my life,
She never knew harm-doing-0, now, after s
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire, - after this pro-

To give her the avaunt, it is a pity
Would move a monster.
Old L.

Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.

0, God's will, much better She ne'er had known pomp! Though 't be

temporal, Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 't is a sufferanc: panging 15 As soul and body's severing. Old L.

Alas, poor lady! She's a stranger now again. Anne.

So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 't is better to be lowly born And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. Old L.

Our content Anne. 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, are blessings; and which

gifts, Saving your mincing, the capacity Of your soft cheveril conscience would re

ceive, 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






Is our best having;










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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 ? Anne.

No, in truth. 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, 't is 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


Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were 't

worth 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 becom-

The action of good women. There is hope
All will be weli.

Now, I pray God, amen! Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly

blessings 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 Maj

esty Commends his good opinion of 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. More than my all is nothing; nor my prayers Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers

and wishes Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, 70 Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obediAs from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness ; Whose health and royalty I pray for. Cham.

Lady, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit The King hath of you. [Aside.] I have perus'd

her well. 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.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.


My honour'd lord. 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, fie upon This compellid 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, 't is 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 Pem

broke! A thousand pounds a year for pure respect! * No other obligation! By my life, That promises moe 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

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 1
In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver
What here you've heard to her.
Old L.

What do you think me?

(Ereunt. SCENE IV. (A hall in Black-Friars.] Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Ver gers,

with short silver wands; next them, turo SCRIBES, in the habit of doctors ; after them, the (ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone ; after him, the BISKOPS 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 bareheaded, accompanied with a Sergeant-at-arms bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars; after then, side by side, the two CARDINALS; two Noble men with the sword and mace. The King takes place under the cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a consistory; below them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage. Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is

read, Let silence be commanded. King.

What's the need?







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It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd;

ou may, then, spare that time.

Be't so. Proceed. Scribe. Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.

Crier. Henry King of England, etc.
King. Here.

Scribe. Say, Katherine Queen of England, eome into the court. Crier. Katherine Queen of England, etc.

[The Queen makes no answer, rises

out of her chair, goes about the çourt, 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, 20 That thus you should proceed to put me off And take your good grace from me? Heaven

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

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

That I have been your wife in this obedience 35
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 sharp'st 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 judgement; Ferdi-

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 coun


I will implore. If not, i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd !

You have here, lady,
And of your choice, these reverend fathers;
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled 60
To plead your cause. It shall be therefore

That longer you desire the conrt; as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettled in the King.

His Grace Hath spoken well and justly; therefore,

It's fit this royal session do proceed,
And that, without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd and heard.
Q. Kath.

Lord Cardinal,
To you I speak.

Your pleasure, madam ?
Q. Kath.

I am about to weep; but, thinking that
We are a queen, or long have dream

The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.

Be patient yet.
Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; nay,

Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induced by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy, and make my

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

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’ertopping 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, 00 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. 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.







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