A creature of the Queen's, lady Anne Bullen.
Sur. Has the King this?
Suf. Believe it.
Sur. Will this work ?
Cham. The King in this perceives him, how he coafts
And hedges his own way. But in this point
All his tricks founder; and he brings his physick
After his patient's death; the King already
Hath married the fair lady.
Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord,
For I profess you have it.
Sur. Now all joy
Trace the conjunction.
Suf. My Amen to't.
Nor. All men's.
Suf. There's order given for her coronation :
Marry this is but young, and may be left
To fome ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and compleat
In mind and feature. I persuade me from her
Will fall fome blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.
Sur. But will the King
Digest this letter of the Cardinal's?
The lord forbid.
Nor. Marry, Amen.
Suf. No, no:
There be more wasps that buz about his nose,
Will make this sting thee sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Is stol'n away to Rome, has ta'en no leave,
Hath left the cause to th' King unhandled, and
Is posted as the agent of our Cardinal,
To fecond all his plot. I do assure you,
The King cry'd ha! at this.
Cham. Now God incense him;
And let him cry ha, louder.
Nor. But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer ?
Suf. He is return'd with his opinions, which
Have fatisfy'd the King for his divorce,
Gather'd from all the famous colleges
Almost in Christendom; soon, I believe,
His second Marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd Queen, but Princess dowager,
A widow to Prince Arthur.
Nor. This fame Cranmer's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the King's business.
Suf. He has, and we shall see him
For it an Archbishop.
Nor. So I hear.
Suf: 'Tis so.
Enter Wolfey and Cromwell.
Nor. Observe, observe, he's moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell,
Gave it you the King?
Crom. To his own hand, in's bed-chamber.
Wol. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper ?
He did unseal them, and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance. You he bad
It shall be to the Dutchess of Alenson,
The French King's sister he shall marry her.
Anne Bullen!-no, I'll no Anne Bullens for him,
There's more in't than fair visage-Bullen! -
No, we'll no Bullens! - speedily I wish
To hear from Rome - the marchioness of Pembrook!
Nor. He's discontented.
Suf. May be he hears the King
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur. Sharp enough,
Wol. [Afide.] The late Queen's gentlewoman! a
To be her mistress's mistress! the Queen's Queen!-
This candle burns not clear, 'tis I must snuff it,
Then out it goes-what though I know her virtuous
And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A fpleemy Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our caufe! that she should lye i'th' bosome of
Our hard-rul'd King!-again, there is sprung up
An heretick, an arch one; Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the King,
And is his oracle.
Nor. He's vex'd at something.
SCENE III.
Enter King reading of a schedule.
Sur. I would 'twere something that would fret the
string The master-cord of's heart:
Suf. The King, the King.
King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion! what expence by th' hour
Seems to flow from him! how i'th' name of thrift
Does he rake this together! Now, my lords,
Saw you the Cardinal ?
Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion
Is in his brain, he bites his lips and starts,
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; tratt
Springs out into fast gate, then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard, and then anon he cafts
His eye against the moon, in most strange postures
We've seen him set himself.
King. It may well be,
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; and wot you what I found
There, on my confcience put unwittingly?
Forfooth an inventory, thus importing
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of houshold, which
I find at such a proud rate, it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Nor. It's heav'ns will,
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.
King. If we did think
His contemplations were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual objects, he should till
Dwell in his musings; but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, nor worth
His serious confidering.
[He takes his feat, whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolfey.
Wol. Heav'n forgive me
Ever God bless your Highness
King. Good my Lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leifure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit; fure in that
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companions.
For holy offices I have a time;
A time to think upon the part of business
I bear i'th' state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which perforce
her frail fon, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
King. You have faid well.
Wol. And ever may your Highness yoke together;
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying,
King. 'Tis well faid again,
And tis a kind of good deed to say well..
And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you,
He faid he did, and with this deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office
I've kept you next my heart, have not alone
Imploy'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Wol. What should this mean?
Sur, The lord increase this business.
King. Have I not made you
The prime man of the state? I pray you tell me,
If what I now pronounce you have found true :
And if you may confess it, say withal
If you are bound to us, or no? what say you?
Wol. My Sovereign, I eonfess your royal graces
Showr'd on me daily have been more than could
My studied purposes require, which went
Beyond all man's endeavours. My endeavours:
Have ever come too short of my, defires,
Yet fill'd with my abilities, mine own
Ends have been such that evermore they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person, and
The profit of the state: For your great graces,
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,
My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing
'Till death, that winter, kill it.
King. Fairly answer'd:
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated; the honour of it
Does pay the act of it, i'th' contrary
The foulness is the punishment. I presume
That as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my pow'r rain'd honour, more
On you, than any; fo your hand and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any..
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