1 Gent.
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 happened?

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.
The cardinal is at the end of this.

1 Gent.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

2 Gent.
Let's stand close, and behold him. Enter Buckingham, from his arraignment.(1)8Q0036 R.U.E. Two Tip-staves before him; the axe, with the edge towards him and Guard; with him, Sir Thos. Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands. The Duke's Barge discovered with four rowers, at the foot of the steps leading to the water.

Buck.
All good people,
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:
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 me,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
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 divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven.—Lead on.

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:
Commend me to his grace;
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 me,
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 th' 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 me.

When I came hither, I was lord high constable,* ^note
And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun;† ^note
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it.
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,
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;
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 loose; 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 sad,
Speak how I fell.—I have done; and Heaven forgive me! [Exit Buckingham, guarded, into Barge, which slowly moves off, L. H. The crowd pass off. R. H., as the scene changes.

SCENE II. AN ANTE-CHAMBER IN THE PALACE. Enter the Lord Chambelain, centre. Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, L. H. 2 E.

Nor.
Well met, my good
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.

Nor.
'Tis so;
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him one day.

Suf.
Pray Heaven, he do! he'll never know himself else.

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 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, L. 2 E. Norfolk opens a folding-door.

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

K. Hen.
Who is there? ha! [Without, L.H.C.

Nor.
Pray Heaven, 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,
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,(2)8Q0037 L. H. 2 E.
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 talker. [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.
This priest has no pride in him? [Aside.

Suf. Aside.
Not to speak of;
I would not be so sick, though, for his place:
But this cannot continue.

Nor. Aside.
If it do,
I'll venture one heave at him.

Suf. Aside.
I another. [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk, L. 2 E.

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 voices; 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 wished 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
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 favor
To him that does best; Heaven forbid else. Cardinal,
Prythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
I find him a fit fellow. Wolsey beckons on Gardiner,* ^note L. 2 E.

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,* ^note 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, L. 2 E.
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, R.H. SCENE III. —AN ANTE-CHAMBER IN THE QUEEN'S APARTMENTS. Enter Anne Boleyn, and an Old Lady, L.H.

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.
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.
I would not be a queen.

Old L.
Beshrew me, I would,
And so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.

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.
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.
I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to.

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:* ^note I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here? Enter the Lord Chamberlain, L. H.

Cham.
Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to know
The secret of your conference?

Anne.
My good lord,
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 Heaven, 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 you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing

Than Marchioness of Pembroke,* ^note 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 nothing:
'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 improve the fair conceit,
The king hath of you.—I have perus'd her well; [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 isle?—I'll to the king,
And say, I spoke with you.

Anne.
My honour'd lord. [Exit L. Chamb. L.H.

Old L.
The Marchioness of Pembroke!
A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect;
No other obligation: By my life,
That promises more thousands. By this time,
I know, your limbs 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 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, R.H.

SCENE IV. —A HALL IN BLACK-FRIARS. The Court(3)8Q0038 assembled to try the divorce of Henry and Katharine. The two Cardinals sit in the centre, on a raised platform, as Judges, with their respective suites on each side of them. Below them, the Secretaries. To the right of the Cardinals, a throne for the King, and to the left a raised chair for the Queen. The Bishops, Doctors of Law and Divinity, and Peers, are seated between the Legates and the throne.—Trumpets sound. Enter four Trumpeters, two Mace Bearers, Garter King-at-Arms, two Mace Bearers, Sword Bearer, Lord Chamberlain, six Henchmen surrounding the King, Norfolk and Suffolk; they pass across to R.H., the King takes his seat. Enter Queen Katharine, eight Ladies in Waiting, four Bishops, and Griffith, her Gentleman Usher. The Queen sits L.H., the women surround her.

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 th' 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.

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, curt'sies to the Cardinals, goes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.

Q. Kath.
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 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.
Sir, call to mind,
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upwards of twenty years. 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
And unmatch'd with 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 questioned
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' th' name of Heaven,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd! [The Queen returns to her chair, supported by her ladies.

Wol.
You have here, lady,
(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 defer the court; 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 weep; 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 Heaven will punish me. I do believe,
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy; and make my challenge,* ^note
You shall not be my judge: for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,—
Which Heaven'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.
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. 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 calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
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.

Cam.
The Queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be try'd by't; '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:
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 Female Attendants. L.H.

K. Hen.
Go thy ways, Kate:
That man i' th' world, who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone,
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); 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?

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 but in anger. You are excus'd:
But will you be more justified? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business;
And oft have hinder'd; oft
The passages made toward it:
Now what mov'd me to't?—Thus it came;—give heed to't:—
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;
For no dislike i'th' world against the person
Of the good queen.
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' th' 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. [They rise to depart.

K. Hen. (Aside)
These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Prythee return!* ^note with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the the court:
I say, set on. [Exeunt the King and his party L. 1 E. The court breaks up as the Act drop falls. END OF ACT SECOND.

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