Shakespeare's Plays

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

171

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.

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: with thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along.-Break up the court: say, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they entered.

SCENE I.-The Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the Queen's Apartment.

The QUEEN, and her Women, as at work. Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;

Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst. Leave working.

SONG.

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 made 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.

To come near.-[Exit Gentleman.]-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 affairs as righteous;
But all hoods make not monks.

Enter WOLSEY, and CAMPEIUS.

Peace to your highness.

Wol. 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

Wol.

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.

Cam.

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 God, ye prove so!) But how to make ye 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, 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.

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?

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.

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;

With these weak women's fears: a noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts

Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves

you;

Beware, you lose it not for us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me,

If I have us'd myself unmannerly.

You know I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray do my service to his majesty:

He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers,
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers;
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear.

[Exeunt.

SCENE. II.-Ante-Chamber to the King's Apart- In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her

Suf.

Which of the peers

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures.
What he deserves of you and me, I know;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him, for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in's tongue.

Nor.
O! fear him not;
His spell in that is out: the king hath found
Matter against him, that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.