Cam. They will not stick to say you envied 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.
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, conscience,-
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
▷ I would not be a queen,
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;
Out of the king's presence.
6 Quarreller.
Which, to say sooth 8, are blessings: and which gift,
(Saving your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft cheveril 9 conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.
Anne.
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.
Anne. How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
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.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth
The secret of your conference?
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying,
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.
Now I pray heaven, amen!
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly
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
Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
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 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.
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, (fye, fye upon
This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.
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;
Are you not stronger than you were?
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
What here you have heard, to her.
Old L.
What do you think me?
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-A Hall in Black-Friars.
Trumpets, Sennets, 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,
Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come
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 knee's at his feet; then speaks.
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;
And to bestow your pity on me; for
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 f
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 min
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
My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one
And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many
A year before: It is not to be question
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
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
I will implore: If not, i' the name of Heaven,
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counse!
Your pleasure be fulfill'd!
accompanied with a Sergeant 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 distance from the KING. The Bishops place themselves on each side the Court, in manner of 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 (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men Of singular integrity and learning, Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless!
Let silence be commanded.
That longer you desire the court; as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettled in the king.
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.
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'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,
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
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.
[Exeunt QUEEN, GRIFFITH, 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 not 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.
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Wol.
In humblest manner I require your highness,
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these ears, (for where I'm 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 Heaven 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?
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
Remove these thoughts from you: The which before The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd:
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
humble-mouth'd;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
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,
Domesticks 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 curt'sies to the KING, and offers to depart.
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.
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 6 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 receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and pain, 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 busines.
Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean the bishop) did require a respite;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
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,
I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had
Crier. Katharine, queen of England, come into Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.
If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
Do no more offices of life to't than
Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray you, keep 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 7 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 ®,
K.Hen. 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'do' the world.
Cam. So please your highness, The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness That we adjourn this court till further day: Mean while must be an earnest motion Made to the queen, to call back her appeal She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart. I may perceive, {dade.
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! with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
I say, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they entered.
- Palace at Bridewell. A Room in | With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour? the Queen's Apartment.
The QUEEN, and some of her Women at Work.
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;
Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave working.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops, that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing. To his musick, 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 musick is such art; Killing care, and grief of heart, Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
Enter a Gentleman.
I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
They should be good men; their affairs as righteous:
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 be 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 I am wife in,
Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing.
Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina
serenissima,
Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin;
I am not such a truant since my coming,
As not to know the language I have liv'd in:
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange,
suspicious;
Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank | 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 com-
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
May be absolv'd in English.
Noble lady,
I am sorry, my integrity should breed,
(And service to his majesty and you,)
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation,
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses;
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;
You have too much, good lady: but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you; and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions,
And comforts to your cause.
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.
Q. Kath. To betray me. [Aside. My lords, I thank you both for your good wills, Ye speak like honest men, (pray heaven ye prove so!) But how to make you suddenly an answer, 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, Heaven 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.
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.
He tells you rightly. Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruin: Is this your christian counsel? out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, That no king can corrupt.
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;
ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? 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 him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this. Your fears are worse. Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long — (let me speak
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 guilty,
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 earth,
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 for me,
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 you do;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,
|