SCENE I.
A Street.
Enter Two Gentlemen, meeting.
1 Gent.
Whither away so fast?
2 Gent.
O,—God save you1 note
!
Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great duke of Buckingham.
1 Gent.
I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
2 Gent.
Were you there?
1 Gent.
Yes, indeed, was I.
2 Gent.
Pray, speak, what has happen'd?
1 Gent.
You may guess quickly what.
2 Gent.
Is he found guilty?
1 Gent.
Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it.
2 Gent.
I am sorry for't.
1 Gent.
So are a number more.
2 Gent.
But, pray, how pass'd it?
1 Gent.
I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where, to his accusations,
He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd
-- 357 --
To have brought, vivâ voce, to his face2 note:
At which appeared against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2 Gent.
That was he,
That fed him with his prophecies?
1 Gent.
The same.
All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:
And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten3 note.
2 Gent.
After all this, how did he bear himself?
1 Gent.
When he was brought again to the bar,—to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment,—he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he sweat extremely4 note,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly,
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent.
I do not think, he fears death.
1 Gent.
Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2 Gent.
Certainly,
The cardinal is the end of this.
1 Gent.
'Tis likely,
By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder,
-- 358 --
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2 Gent.
That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
1 Gent.
At his return,
No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally; whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment5 note
,
And far enough from court too.
2 Gent.
All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him, bounteous Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy6 note;—
1 Gent.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment; Tipstaves
before him; the Axe with the Edge towards
him; Halberds on each Side: with him, Sir
Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William
Sands7 note
, and common People.
2 Gent.
Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buck.
All good people,
-- 359 --
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear witness,
And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,
It has done, upon the premises, but justice:
But those, that sought it, I could wish more christians:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men8 note
;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me9 note,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
-- 360 --
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
And, as the long divorce9 note
of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven1 note
.—Lead on, o' God's name.
Lov.
I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck.
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy
Shall make my grave2 note
.—Commend me to his grace;
-- 361 --
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him,
You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake me3 note,
Shall cry for blessings on him: May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!
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.
Vaux.
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 me4 note
.
-- 362 --
When I came hither, I was lord high constable,
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun5 note
:
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it6 note;
And with that blood will make them one day groan for't.
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,
-- 363 --
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 counsels,
Be sure, you be not loose7 note
; 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. 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 sad8 note
,
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 woe: yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
-- 364 --
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 faith9 note 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:
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 certain1 note
,
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 archbishoprick 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.
-- 365 --
1 Gent.
'Tis woful.
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 a Letter.
Cham.
My Lord,—The horses your lordship sent
for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden,
and furnished. 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 commission, and main power, took 'em
from me; with this reason,—His master would be
served before a subject, if not before the king:
which stopped our mouths, sir.
I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.
Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor.
Well met, my good2 note
lord chamberlain.
Cham.
Good day to both your graces.
Suf.
How is the king employ'd?
Cham.
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor.
What's the cause?
Cham.
It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
Suf.
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
-- 366 --
Nor.
'Tis so;
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he list3 note
. The king will know him one day.
Suf.
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 league
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great 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 marriage:
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 lustre4 note;
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 end5 note
,—
-- 367 --
The French king's sister6 note. 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 pages7 note: all men's honours
Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please8 note.
Suf.
For me, my lords,
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 blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
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 upon him:—
-- 368 --
My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cham.
Excuse me;
The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.
Nor.
Thanks, my good lord Chamberlain.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain.
Norfolk opens a folding-door. The King is discovered
sitting, and reading pensively8 note
.
Suf.
How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
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,
-- 369 --
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.
Who's there? my good lord cardinal?—O my 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 talker9 note
.
[To Wolsey.
Wol.
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. [Aside.]
This priest has no pride in him?
Suf. [Aside.]
Not to speak of
I would not be so sick though1 note, for his place:
But this cannot continue.
Nor. [Aside.]
If it do,
I'll venture one have at him2 note
.
Suf. [Aside.]
I another.
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.
-- 370 --
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 voices3 note; Rome, the nurse of judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.
K. Hen.
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 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
-- 371 --
Forthwith, for what you come:—Where's Gardiner.
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.
K. Hen.
Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, 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 to you;
You are the king's now.
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
In this man's place before him?
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.
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 man still4 note; which so griev'd him,
That he ran mad, and died5 note
.
-- 372 --
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 lived 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.
[Exeunt.
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;—O now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,—the which
-- 373 --
To leave is6 note a thousand-fold more bitter, than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire,—after this process,
To give her the avaunt7 note! it is a pity
Would move a monster.
Old L.
Hearts of most hard temper
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, fortune8 note
, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing9 note
.
-- 374 --
Old L.
Alas, poor lady!
She's a stranger now again9 note
?
Anne.
So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis 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
Is our best having1 note
.
Anne.
By my troth, and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
-- 375 --
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 cheveril2 note
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 bowed 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 little3 note
;
-- 376 --
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 Carnarvonshire4 note
, although there 'long'd
-- 377 --
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
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 becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.
Anne.
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 notes
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion to you5 note
, and
-- 378 --
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 nothing6 note
: nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd7 note
, 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.
Cham.
Lady,
-- 379 --
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit8 note,
The king hath of you.—I have perus'd her well9 note;
[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 isle1 note
?—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
-- 380 --
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.
Anne.
This is strange to me.
Old L.
How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no2 note
.
There was a lady once, ('tis an old story,)
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt3 note:—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;—Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
-- 381 --
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
What here you have heard, to her.
Old L.
What do you think me?
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Hall in Black-fryars.
Trumpets, Sennet4 note
, and Cornets. Enter Two Vergers,
with short Silver Wands; next them, Two
-- 382 --
Scribes, in the Habits of Doctors; after them, the
Archbishop of Canterbury
alone; after him, the
Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint
Asaph5 note; 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
Sergeant at Arms, bearing a Silver Mace; then
two Gentlemen, bearing two great Silver Pillars6 note
;
-- 383 --
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 stage.
Wol.
Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.
K. Hen.
What's the need?
It hath already publickly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd;
You may then spare that time.
Wol.
Be't so:—Proceed.
Scribe.
Say, Henry king of England, come into the court.
Crier.
Henry King of England, &c.
-- 384 --
K. Hen.
Here.
Scribe.
Say, Katharine queen of England, come into court.
Crier.
Katharine, queen of England, &c.
[The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair,
goes about the court7 note, comes to the King, and
kneels at his feet; then speaks.]
Q. Kath.
Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice8 note;
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 conformable9 note:
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,
-- 385 --
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 notice1 note
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 person2 note
, in God's name,
-- 386 --
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,
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 counsel
I will implore: if not; i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fullfill'd!
Wol.
You have here, lady,
-- 387 --
(And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled
To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless,
That longer you desire the court3 note; 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.
Q. Kath.
Lord cardinal,—
To you I speak.
Wol.
Your pleasure, madam?
Q. Kath.
Sir,
I am about to weep4 note
; 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.
Wol.
Be patient yet.
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,
-- 388 --
You shall not be my judge5 note
: 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 judge6 note
; 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 gainsay7 note
my deed, how may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as much
-- 389 --
As you have done my truth. But if8 note 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 humble-mouth'd;
You sign your place and calling9 note
, 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 will1 note
, as't please
-- 390 --
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 curtsies 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.
Crier.
Katharine queen of England, come into the court.
Grif.
Madam, you are call'd back.
Q. Kath.
What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:
-- 391 --
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 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 out2 note
,)
The queen of earthly queens:—She is noble born;
And, like her true nobility, she has
Carried herself towards me.
Wol.
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 satisfied3 note
,) 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
-- 392 --
A royal lady,—spake one the least word, that might4 note
Be to 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'd5 note; but oft have hinder'd, oft,
The passages made toward it6 note
:—on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point7 note
,
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,
-- 393 --
Scruple, and prick8 note
, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage9 note, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite;
Wherein he might the king his lord advértise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience1 note
, 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
-- 394 --
Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
If it 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 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 in
The wild sea2 note
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,
-- 395 --
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 you3 note,
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 world4 note
.
Cam.
So please your highness,
-- 396 --
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 depart3 note
.
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:
I say, set on.
[Exeunt, in manner as they entered.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
