Nor.
Well met, my lord ^note 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.

Nor.
'Tis so:
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal: ^note

That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he list ^note. The king will know him one day.

Suf.
Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else ^note.

Nor.
How holily he works in all his ^note business!
And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league
Between ^note us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew ^note,
He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, ^note wringing ^{note note} of the conscience,
Fears and despairs ^note; 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 lustre,
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 'em,
And every true heart weeps for't: all that dare
Look into these affairs see this ^note 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 ^note deliverance;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lie like ^note one lump before him, to be fashion'd

Into ^note what pitch ^note he please.

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're ^note 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:
My lord, you'll bear us company?

Cham.
Excuse me;
The king has sent me otherwhere: besides,
You'll find ^note a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.

Nor.
Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain; and the King draws the curtain and sits reading pensively. ^{note note}

Suf.
How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

King.
Who's there, ha?

Nor.
Pray ^note 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 offences
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate, in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.

King.
Ye are ^note 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 ^note, with a commission. ^note
Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king ^note. [To Camp. ^note] You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
Use us and it. [To Wols. ^note] My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

Wol.
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

King. [To Nor. and Suf. ^note]
We are busy; go.

Nor. [Aside to Suf.]
This priest has no pride in him? ^note

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. ^{note note}

Suf. [Aside to Nor.]
I another. ^note [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.

Wol.
Your grace has given a precedent ^note 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 ^note
Have ^note their free voices: ^note Rome, the nurse of judgement,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned ^note priest, Cardinal ^note Campeius;
Whom once more I present unto your highness.

King.
And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves:
They have ^note 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 ^note, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant
In the unpartial judging of this business.

King.
Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol.
I know your majesty has always loved her
So ^note dear in heart, not to deny her that ^note
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. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow. [Exit Wolsey. Re-enter ^note Wolsey, with Gardiner.

Wol. [Aside to Gard.] ^note
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 raised me.

King.
Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks and whispers. ^note

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 still; which so grieved 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.

King.
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.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: An ante-chamber ^note 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 ^note lived 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 enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty ^note and pomp, the which
To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire—after this process, ^note
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.

Anne.
O, ^note God's will! much better
She ne'er had known pomp: though 't be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel ^note, fortune, do ^note divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.

Old L.
Alas ^note, poor lady!
She's a stranger ^note now again.

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 having.

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 ^note conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne.
Nay, good troth ^note.

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 ^note would ^note 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 ^note a little;
I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne.
How you do ^note talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

Old L.
In faith, for little England

You'ld ^note venture an emballing ^note: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd ^note
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 note's ^note
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you ^note, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pound ^note a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne.
I do not know.
What kind ^note of my obedience I should tender;
More than my all is ^note nothing: nor ^note my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty ^note 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,
I shall not fail to approve ^note the fair conceit
The king hath of you. [Aside ^note] I have perused 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.

Anne.
My honour'd lord. [Exit ^note Lord Chamberlain.

Old L.
Why, this it is; see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor ^note 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 ^note 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 ^{note note}, no.
There was a lady ^note 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 ^note my life,
That promises moe ^note 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 fancy,
And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
If this salute ^note 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've ^note heard to her.

Old L.
What do you think me? ^note [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: A hall ^note in Black-Friars. Trumpets, sennet ^note and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in the habit ^note of doctors; after them, the Archbishop ^note 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, accompanied with a Sergeant at arms bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars ^note; after them, side by side, the two Cardinals; two Noblemen 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 ^note them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage ^note.

Wol.
Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.

King.
What's the need?
It hath already publicly 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.

King.

Here.

Scribe.

Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court ^note.

Crier.

Katharine Queen of England, &c.

Q. Kath. ^note
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 ^note 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 ^note 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 inclined: ^note when was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which ^note of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were ^note mine enemy? what friend of mine

That had to him derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave ^note notice
He was from thence discharged? ^note 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 ^note or my love and duty, ^note
Against ^note your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away, and let the ^note foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharp'st ^note kind ^note of justice. Please you, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of ^note an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgement: 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 ^note
Beseech you, sir, to spare ^note me, till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel
I will implore: if not, i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd!

Wol.
You have here, lady,
And of your choice, these reverend fathers; men
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled
To plead your cause: it shall be therefore bootless
That longer you desire ^note the court ^{note 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 produced and heard.

Q. Kath.
Lord cardinal,
To you I speak ^note.

Wol.
Your pleasure, madam?

Q. Kath.
Sir, ^note
I am about to weep; but, thinking that ^note
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. ^note

Q. Kath.
I will, when you are humble; nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe, ^note
Induced by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy, and make my challenge
You ^note 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 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 ^note, you do me wrong:
I have no spleen against you, nor injustice

For you or any: how far I have ^note proceeded,
Or how far further shall, ^note 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 ^note be known to him
That I gainsay my deed, how ^note may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood! yea, as much
As you have done my truth. If he ^note 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 ^note no more.

Q. Kath.
My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You're ^note 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 ^note, spleen, and pride.
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours ^note,
Gone slightly ^note o'er low steps and now are mounted
Where powers ^note are your retainers, and your words ^note,
Domestics 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 judged 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 tried by't: 'tis not well.
She's going away.

King.
Call her again.

Crier.
Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.

Gent. Ush. ^note
Madam, you are call'd back.

Q. Kath.
What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:
When you are call'd, return. Now the Lord help ^note!
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 ^note Queen, and her Attendants. ^note

King.
Go thy ways, Kate:
That man i' the world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought ^note 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 ^note speak thee out,
The queen of earthly queens. She's 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 unloosed ^note, although not there
At once ^note and fully satisfied—whether ever ^note 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
A royal lady, spake ^note one the least word that ^note might
Be to the ^note prejudice of her present state
Or touch of her good person?

King.
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 ^note village-curs,
Bark when their fellows do: by some of these
The queen is put in anger. You're ^note excused:
But will you be more justified? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business, never desired
It to be stirr'd, but oft ^note have hinder'd, oft,
The passages made toward ^note it: on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal ^note to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't ^note,
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,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the Bishop of Bayonne ^note, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A ^note marriage '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 ^note a respite,
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise

Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometimes ^note our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom ^note of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting ^note power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast; which forced such way
That many mazed considerings did throng
And press'd in with this caution. First, methought
I stood not in the smile of heaven, who ^note had
Commanded nature that my lady's womb,
If it conceived 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 judgement on me, that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not
Be gladded in't ^note by me: then follows that
I weigh'd the danger which ^note my realms ^note stood in
By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me
Many a groaning throe ^note. Thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Toward ^note this remedy whereupon ^note 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 ^note,
When I first moved you.

Lin.
Very well, my liege.

King.
I have spoke long: be pleased 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
And consequence of dread, that I committed
The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt,
And did entreat your highness to this ^note course
Which you are running here.

King.
I then moved you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
To make this present summons: unsolicited ^note
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 ^note queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons, drive ^note 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 ^note world.

Cam.
So please your highness,
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till ^note further day:
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal ^note
She intends unto his holiness.

King. [Aside]
I may perceive
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This ^note dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd ^note and well-beloved ^note servant, Cranmer,

Prithee, return; with thy approach, ^note I know,
My comfort comes along. ^note—Break up the court:
I say, set on. [Exeunt in manner as they entered.

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