Q. Kath.
Take thy lute, wench; my soul grows sad with troubles;
Sing, and disperse them, if thou can'st: leave working

SONG.
    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 Griffith, R.H.

Q. Kath.
How now?

Gent.
An't please your grace, the two great cardinals
Wait in the presence.

Q. Kath.
Would they speak with me?

Gent.
They will'd me say so, madam.

Q. Kath.
Pray their graces
To come near. [Exit Griffith] 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 are righteous:
But all hoods make not monks. Enter Wolsey and Campeius, R.H, preceded by Griffith.

Wol.
Peace to your highness!

Q. Kath.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?

Wol.
May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full meaning of our coming.

Q. Kath.
Speak it here;
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
Deserves a corner: Truth loves open dealing.

Wol.
Tanta est ergà te mentis integritas, regina serenis sima—

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:
Pray speak in English: Lord Cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
May be absolv'd in English.

Wol.
Noble lady,
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,
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,
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. 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,
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.
Put your main cause into the king's protection;
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.

Wol.
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.

Cam.
Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath.
The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye,
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 comfort?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
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.* ^note

Q. Kath.
Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye,
And all such false professors!

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.

Wol.
'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.
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. Pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.

Cam.
Madam you'll find it so. 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.(1)8Q0039 [Exeunt L.H.

Next section