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Charles Kean [1855], Shakespere's historical play of King Henry the Eighth; arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, by Charles Kean. First performed on Wednesday, 16th May, 1855 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S35600].
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SCENE II. —ANTE-CHAMBER TO THE KING'S APARTMENT. Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chanmberlain. L. 2 E.

Nor.
If you will now unite in your complaints
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them.

Sur.
I am joyful
To meet the least occasion, that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be reveng'd on him.

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, if you cannot
Bar his access to th' king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his 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.
In the divorce, his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears,
As I could wish mine enemy.

Sur.
How came
His practices to light?

Suf.
Most strangely.

Sur.
O, how? how?

Suf.
The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,
And came to th' eye o' th' king: wherein was read,
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o' th' divorce; For if
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive,

-- 59 --


My king is tangled in affection to
A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Boleyn.

Sur.
Has the king this?

Suf.
Believe it.

Sur.
Will this work?

Cham.
The king in this perceives him, how he coasts,
And hedges,* note his own way. But in this point
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physick
After his patient's death; the king already
Hath married the fair lady.

Sur.
But will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal's?

Suf.
No, no. Cardinal Campeius
Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
Has left the cause o' th' king unhandled; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you
The king cry'd, ha! at this

Nor.
But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer?

Suf.
He is return'd, in his opinions; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Anne's coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd queen; but princess dowager,
And widow to prince Arthur.
The cardinal—
Enter Wolsey and Cromwell, R. 2 E.

Nor.
Observe, observe, he's moody.

Wol.
The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king?

Crom.
To his own hand, in his bedchamber.

Wol.
Look'd he o' th' inside of the paper?

Crom.
Presently
He did unseal them: and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed

-- 60 --


Was in his countenance: You, he bade
Attend him here this morning.

Wol.
Is he ready
To come abroad?

Crom.
I think, by this he is. [Exit Cromwell.

Wol.
Leave me a while.
It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,
The French king's sister: he shall marry her.—
Anne Boleyn! No; I'll no Anne Boleyn's for him:
There is more in it than fair visage.—Boleyn!
No, we'll no Boleyns.—Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome.—The Marchioness of Pembroke!

Nor.
He's discontented.

Suf.
May be, he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.

Sur.
Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice!

Wol.
The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's daughter,
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!—
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes.—What though I know her virtuous,
And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran,(2)8Q0040 and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' th' bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretick, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.

Nor.
He is vex'd at something.

Suf.
I would, 'twere something that would fret the string,
The master-cord of his heart!
Enter the King, reading a schedule;(3)8Q0041 and Lovell.

Suf.
The king, the king.

K. Hen.
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion! and what expence by th' hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i' th' name of thrift,

-- 61 --


Does he rake this together?—Now, my lords,
Saw you the cardinal?

Nor.
My Lord, we have
Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion
Is in his brain: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.

K. Hen.
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in his mind. If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid,
His thinkings are below the moon.
[He whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolsey.

Wol.
Heaven forgive me!
And ever bless your highness!

K. Hen.
Good my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.

Wol.
Sir,
For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business, which
I bear i' th' state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.

K. Hen.
You have said well.

Wol.
And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!

K. Hen.
'Tis well said again;
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well;
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you;
He said, he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you, where high profits might come home,

-- 62 --


But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

Wol.
What should this mean?

Sur.
Now Heaven increase this business!
[Aside.

K. Hen.
Have I not made you
The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me,
If what I now pronounce, you have found true:
And, if you may confess it, say withal,
If you are bound to us, or no. What say you?

Wol.
My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces
Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could
My studied purposes requisite; which went
Beyond all man's endeavours:—my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet fil'd with my abilities: I do profess
That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be,
Though all the world should crack their duty to you
And throw it from their soul; though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

K. Hen.
'Tis nobly spoken:
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.—Read o'er this; [Giving him papers.
And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.
[Exit King, door in flat, L.H., frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.

Wol.
What should this mean?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear the story of his anger.—'Tis so;

-- 63 --


This paper has undone me:—'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the Popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,
Will bring me off again. What's this—To the Pope?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness:
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.(4)8Q0042 Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk(5)8Q0043 and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. Door in Flat, L.H.

Nor.
Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you
To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchester's,* note
Till you hear further from his highness.

Wol.
Stay,
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.

Suf.
Who dare cross them,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?

Wol.
'Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,
(I mean, your malice), know, officious lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,—envy.

-- 64 --


How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!
Follow your envious course, men of malice;
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king,
(Mine, and your master), with his own hand gave me:
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patent. Now, who'll take it?

Sur.
The king, that gave it.

Wol.
It must be himself, then.

Sur.
Thou art a proud traitor, priest.

Wol.
Proud lord, thou liest!
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.

Sur.
Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
You sent me deputy for Ireland;
Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol.
This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke, by law,
Found his deserts: how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur.
Your long coat, priest, protects you.—My lords,
Can ye endure to hear his arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be a thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,

-- 65 --


Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.* note

Wol.
All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur.
Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,
You writ to the pope, against the king: your goodness,
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.—
My lord of Norfolk.—
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:—I'll startle you
Worse than the sacring bell,† note when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

Wol.
How much, methinks, I could despise this man,
But that I am bound in charity against it!

Nor.
Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand:
But, thus much, they are foul ones.

Wol.
So much fairer,
And spotless, shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.

Sur.
This cannot save you:
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles; and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal,
You'll show a little honesty.

Wol.
Speak on, sir;
I dare your worst objections: If I blush,
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.

Suf.
I'd rather want those than my head. Have at you.
First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
You wrote to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

-- 66 --

Nor.
Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus* note
Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.

Suf.
That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

Sur.
Then that you have sent innumerable substance,
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham.
O, my lord,
Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:
His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.

Sur.
I forgive him.

Nor.
And so we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.
So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
[Exeunt all but Wolsey; door in flat L. H.

Wol.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;
And,—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening,—nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy

-- 67 --


Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.— Enter Cromwell, amazedly. R. 2 E.
Why how now, Cromwell?

Crom.
I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol.
What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

Crom.
How does your grace?

Wol.
Why, well;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

Crom.
I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.

Wol.
I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks,
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom.
The heaviest, and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.

Wol.
God bless him!

Crom.
The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen
Lord Chancellor in your place.

-- 68 --

Wol.
That's somewhat sudden:
But he's a learned man. May he continue
Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!* note
What more?

Crom.
That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

Wol.
That's news indeed.

Crom.
Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,(6)8Q0044
This day was view'd in open, as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.

Wol.
There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: Seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him,
(I know his noble nature,) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too: Go, Cromwell.

Crom.
O, my lord,
Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.—
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

Wol.
Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.

-- 69 --


Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And,—when I am forgotten, as I shall be;
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,—say, I taught thee:
Say, Wolsey,—that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,—
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And,—Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,* note
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.(8)8Q0045

Crom.
Good sir, have patience.

Wol.
So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.† note
[Exeunt, R. 2 E. END OF ACT THIRD.

-- 70 --

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Charles Kean [1855], Shakespere's historical play of King Henry the Eighth; arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, by Charles Kean. First performed on Wednesday, 16th May, 1855 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S35600].
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