Abergavenny.
Buc.
Good morrow, and well met. How have you done,
Since last we saw in France?
Nor.
I thank your grace:
Healthful; and, ever since, a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.
Buc.
An untimely ague
Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those sons note of glory,14Q0905 those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Arde. note
Nor.
'Twixt Guynes and Arde:
I was then present, saw them salute on horse-back;
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as they grew together;
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd
Such a compounded one?
Buc.
All the whole time
-- 4 --
I was my chamber's prisoner.
Nor.
Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: Men might say,
'Till this time, pomp was single; but now marry'd
To one above itself. Each following day14Q0906
Became the last day's master, 'till the next
Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen note gods,
Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain India: every man, that stood,
Shew'd like a mine; their dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting: now this mask
Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them; him in eye,
Still him in praise: and, being present both,
'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure: When these suns
(For so they phrase 'em) by their heralds challeng'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis was believ'd.
Buc.
O, you go far.
Nor.
As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;14Q0907
-- 5 --
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
Order gave each thing view; the office did
Distinctly his full function.
Buc.
Who did guide,
I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess?
Nor.
One, certes, note that promises no element
In such a business.
Buc.
I pray you, who, my lord?
Nor.
All this was order'd by the good discretion
Of the right reverend cardinal of York.
Buc.
The devil speed him! no man's pye is free'd
From his ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder,
That such a ketch can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o'the beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.
Nor.
Yet, surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends:
For, being not propt by ancestry, (whose grace
Chalks successors their way) nor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown, neither ally'd
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like,
Out of his self-drawn web, he gives note us note,14Q0908
The force of his own merit makes his way;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
Abe.
I cannot tell
What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that?
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard;
-- 6 --
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.
Buc.
And why the devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o'the king, to appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes up the file14Q0909
Of all the gentry; for the most part such
Too, whom note as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,
The honourable board of council out,
Must fetch him in he papers.
Abe.
I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly.
Buc.
O, many
Have broke their backs with laying manors on them
For this great journey. What did this vanity,
But minister communication of
A most poor issue?
Nor.
Grievingly I think,
The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.
Buc.
Every man,
After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd; and, not consulting, broke
Into a general prophecy,—That this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboaded note
The sudden breach on't.
Nor.
Which is budded out;
For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
-- 7 --
Abe.
Is it therefore
The ambassador is silenc'd?
Nor.
Marry, is't.
Abe.
A proper title of a peace and purchas'd
At a superfluous rate!
Buc.
Why, all this business
Our reverend cardinal carry'd.
Nor.
Like it your grace,
The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you note
Honour and plenteous safety) that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together: to consider further, that
What his high hatred would effect wants not
A minister in his power: You know his nature,
That he's revengeful; and I know, his sword
Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and, 't may be said,
It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock,
That I advise your shunning.
Enter Cardinal Wolsey,
(the Purse born before him) certain of the
Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers.
The Cardinal in his Passage fixeth his Eye on
Buckingham, and Buckingham on him,
both full of Disdain.
Wol.
The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha?
Where's his examination?
1. S.
Here, so please you.
Wol.
Is he in person ready?
-- 8 --
1. S.
Ay, please your grace.
Wol.
Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.
[Exeunt Wolsey, and Train.
Buc.
This butcher's cur14Q0910 is venom-mouth'd note, and I
Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore, best
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Out-worths a noble's blood.
Nor.
What, are you chaf'd?
Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only,
Which your disease requires.
Buc.
I read in his looks
Matter against me; and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object: at this instant
He bores me with some trick: He's gone to the king;
I'll follow, and out-stare him.
Nor.
Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about: To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like
A full-hot horse; who being allow'd his way,
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you: be to yourself,
As you would to your friend.
Buc.
I'll to the king;
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim,
There's difference in no persons.
Nor.
Be advis'd;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do sindge yourself: We may out-run,
By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running. Know you not,
-- 9 --
The fire, that mounts the liquor till't run o'er,
In seeming to augment it, wasts it? Be advis'd:
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself;
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.
Buc.
Sir,
I am thankful to you; and I'll go along
By your prescription:—but this top-proud fellow,
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions; by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel) I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous note.
Nor.
Say not, treasonous note.
Buc.
To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous,
As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief,
As able to perform't: his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally)
Only to shew his pomp as well in France
As here at home, suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty, the interview,
That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i'the rinsing.
Nor.
'Faith, and so it did.
Buc.
Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
The articles o'the combination drew,
As himself pleas'd; and they were ratify'd,
As he cry'd, Thus let be: to as much end,
As give a crutch to the dead: But our count cardinal note
-- 10 --
Has done this, and 'tis well for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To the old dam, treason)—Charles the emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
(For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came
To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation:
His fears were, that the interview, betwixt
England and France, might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
Peep'd harms that menac'd him: He note therefore privily14Q0911
Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,—
(Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor
Pay'd, ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted,
Ere it was ask'd)—but, when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd;—
That he would please to alter the king's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.
Nor.
I am sorry,
To hear this of him; and could wish, he were
Something mistaken in't.
Buc.
No, not a syllable;
I do pronounce him in that very shape,
He shall appear in proof.
Enter Brandon; a Serjeant note at Arms before him, and two or three of the Guard.
Bra.
Your office, serjeant; execute it.
Ser.
Sir,
My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl
-- 11 --
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.
Buc.
Lo you, my lord,
[to Nor.
The net has fall'n upon me; I shall perish
Under devise and practice.
Bra.
I am sorry,
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present: 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
You shall to the tower.
Buc.
It will help me nothing,
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me,
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heaven
Be done in this and all things!—I obey.—
O my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well.
Bra.
Nay, he must bear you company:—The king
Is pleas'd, you shall to the tower, 'till you know
How he determines further.
Abe.
As the duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
By me obey'd.
Bra.
Here is a warrant from
The king, to attach lord Montacute; and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de-la-Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor note,—
Buc.
So, so,
These are the limbs o'the plot: No more, I hope.
Bra.
A monk o'the Chartreux.
Buc.
O, Nicholas Hopkins? note
Bra.
He.
Buc.
My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal
Hath shew'd him gold: my life is span'd already:
-- 12 --
I am the shadow14Q0912 of poor Buckingham;
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, note
By dark'ning my clear sun.—My lord note, farewel.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Council-Chamber.
Enter King Henry, Wolsey, Lords,
and others note of the Council, (Sir Thomas Lovel, one)
Officers and Attendants. King enters leaning
on the Cardinal's Shoulder.
Kin.
My life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i'the level
Of a full-charg'd confed'racy; and give thanks
To you that chok'd it.—Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's: in person
I'll hear him his confessions justify;
And point by point the treasons of note his master
He shall again relate.
King takes his Seat under a State;
the Council theirs; the Cardinal placeth himself
under the King's Feet, on his right Side.
Noise within of crying, Room for the Queen.
Enter the Queen, usher'd by the Dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk. She kneels: King
riseth from his State, and advances towards her.
Que.
Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.
Kin.
Arise, and take place by us:—Half your suit
Never name to us; you have half our power:
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
Repeat your will, and take it.
Que.
Thank your majesty.
That you would love yourself; and, in that love,
-- 13 --
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.
Kin.
Lady mine, proceed.
Que.
I am sollicited,14Q0913 not by a few,
And those of true condition, that your subjects
Are in great grievance: There have been commissions
Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd note the heart
Of all their loyalties:—wherein, although,
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master
(Whose honour heaven shield from soil!) even he escapes not
Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.
Nor.
Not almost appears,
It doth appear: for, upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.
Kin.
Taxation!
Wherein? and what taxation?—My lord cardinal,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?
Wol.
Please you, sir,
I know but of a single part, in ought
Pertains to the state; and front but in that file
-- 14 --
Where others tell steps with me.
Que.
No, my lord,
You know no more than others: but you frame
Things, that are known alike; which are not wholesome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear them,
The back is sacrifice to the load: They say,
They are devis'd by you; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.
Kin.
Still exaction!
The nature of it? in what kind, let's know,
Is this exaction?
Que.
I am much too venturous,
In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd
Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief
Comes through commissions, which compel note from each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levy'd
Without delay; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold mouths:
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; nay, their curses now
Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass,
This tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will. I would, your highness
Would give it quick consideration; for
There is no primer business note.14Q0914
Kin.
By my life,
This is against our pleasure.
Wol.
And for me,
I have no further gone in this, than by
-- 15 --
A single voice; and that not past me, but
By learned approbation. If note I am
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues,—which neither know
My faculties, nor person, yet will be
The chronicles of my doing,—let me say,
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue must go through. We must not stint
Our necessary actions, in the fear
To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
As ravenous note fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new trim'd; but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters (once weak ones14Q0915) is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,
Hitting a grosser quality, is cry'd up
For our best action. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit note
State statues only.
Kin.
Things that are done well,
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission? I believe note not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution! Why, we take,
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o'the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hackt,
The air will drink the sap. To every county,
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has deny'd
-- 16 --
The force of this commission: Pray, look to't;
I put it to your care.
&clquo;Wol.
&clquo;A word with you.&crquo;
[to an Att.
&clquo;Let there be letters writ to every shire,&crquo;
&clquo;Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons&crquo;
&clquo;Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,&crquo;
&clquo;That, through our intercession, this revokement&crquo;
&clquo;And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you&crquo;
&clquo;Further in the proceeding.&crquo;
[Exit Att.
Enter an Officer of the Council, with the Duke of Buckingham's Surveyor.
Que.
I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.
Kin.
It grieves many:
The gentleman is learn'd, a note most rare speaker,
To nature none more bound; his training such,
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself.
Yet see,
When these so noble benefits14Q0916 shall prove
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Then note ever they were fair: This man, so compleat,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with list'ning ravish'd note, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear
(This was his gentleman in trust) of him
Things to strike honour sad.—Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices; whereof
-- 17 --
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Wol.
Standforth; and with bold spirit relate what you,
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham.
Kin.
Speak freely.
Sur.
First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, That, if the king
Should without issue dye, he'd carry it so
To make the scepter his: These very words
I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.
Wol.
Please your highness, note
His dangerous note conception in this point:
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant; and it stretches
Beyond you, to your friends.
Que.
My learn'd lord cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.
Kin.
Speak on:
How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak ought?
Sur.
He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. note
Kin.
What was that Hopkins? note
Sur.
Sir, a Chartreux friar,
His confessor; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty. note
Kin.
How know'st thou this?
Sur.
Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the rose, within the parish
-- 18 --
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey: I reply'd,
Men fear'd note, the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger: Presently the duke
Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted,
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk, that oft, says he,
Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de-la-Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after14Q0917 under the confession's note seal
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living, but
To me, should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensu'd,—Neither the king, nor his heirs,
Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive
To gain the love o'the commonalty; the duke
Shall govern England.
Que.
If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'the tenants: Take good heed,
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler note soul; I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you.
Kin.
Let him on:—
Go forward.
Sur.
On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangerous for him note
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
-- 19 --
It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush!
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovel's heads
Should have gone off.
Kin.
Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!
There's mischief in this man:—Can'st thou say further?
Sur.
I can, my liege.
Kin.
Proceed.
Sur.
Being at Greenwich,
After your highness had reprov'd the duke
About sir William Blomer,—
Kin.
I remember
Of such a time; he being my sworn servant,
The duke retain'd him his.—But on; What hence?
Sur.
If, quoth he, I for this had been committed,
To the tower, as I thought note, I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.
Kin.
A giant traitor!
Wol.
Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
And this man out of prison?
Que.
God mend all!
Kin.
There's something more would out of thee; What say'st?
Sur.
After—the duke his father,—with—the knife,—
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenor
Was,—Were he evil us'd, he would out-go
-- 20 --
His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.
Kin.
There's his period,
To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd;
Call him to present trial: if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us: By day and night,
He's traitor to the height.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Anti-room in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands.
Cha.
Is't possible, the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?14Q0918
San.
New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
Cha.
As far as I see, all the good, our English
Have got by the late voyage, is but meerly
A fit or two o'the face; but they are shrew'd note ones;
For, when they hold 'em, you would swear directly,
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.
San.
They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it,
That never saw them note pace before, the spavin
And spring note-halt reign'd note among 'em.
Cha.
Death! my lord,
Their cloaths are after such a pagan cut too note,
That, sure, they have worn out christendom.—How now?
Enter Sir Thomas Lovel.
What news, sir Thomas Lovel?
Lov.
'Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
-- 21 --
That's clap'd upon the court gate.
Cha.
What is't for?
Lov.
The reformation of our travel'd gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Cha.
I am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
Lov.
They must either
(For so run the conditions) leave those remnants
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fire-works;
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom) renouncing clean note
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short bolster'd note breeches, and those types note of travel,
And understand again like honest men;
Or pack to their old play-fellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away note
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
San.
'Tis time to give 'em physick note, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
Cha.
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
Lov.
Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whorsons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.
San.
The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad, they're going;
(For, sure, there's no converting of 'em) now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his pain-song,
-- 22 --
And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-lady,
Held current musick too.
Cha.
Well said, lord Sands;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
San.
No, my lord;
Nor shall not note, while I have a stump.
Cha.
Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?
Lov.
To the cardinal's;
Your lordship is a guest too.
Cha.
O, 'tis true:
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
Lov.
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.
Cha.
No doubt, he's noble;
He had a black mouth, that said other of him.
San.
He may, my lord, he has where-withal; in him,
Sparing would shew a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal,
They are set here for examples.
Cha.
True, they are so;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along:—Come, good sir Thomas,
We shall be late else; which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guilford,
This night to be comptrollers.
San.
I am your lordship's.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Hall in York-Place.
-- 23 --
Musick. Banquet set out: Table under a State
for the Cardinal. Enter a great Company of Lords,
Ladies, &c. and Anne Bullen: to them,
Sir Henry Guilford.
Gui.
Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
Salutes you all: This night he dedicates
To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad; he would have all as merry,
As first-good note company,14Q0919 good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.—O, my lord, you're tardy;
Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovel.
The very thought of this fair company
Clap'd wings to me.
Cha.
You are young, sir Harry Guilford.
San.
Sir Thomas Lovel, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think, would better please 'em: by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Lov.
O, that your lordship were but now confessor
To one or two of these!
San.
I would, I were;
They should find easy penance.
Lov.
'Faith, how easy?
San.
As easy as a down bed would afford it.
Cha.
Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?—Sir Harry,
Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this;
His grace is entring.—Nay, you must not freeze;
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:—
My lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking,
-- 24 --
Pray, sit between these ladies.
San.
By my faith,
And thank your lordship.—By your leave, sweet ladies:
[seating himself between Anne Bullen, and another Lady.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
Ann.
Was he mad, sir?
San.
O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:
But he would bite none; just as I do † now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
Cha.
Well said, my lord.—
So, now you're fairly seated:—Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.
San.
For my little cure,
Let me alone.
Flourish. Enter Wolsey, attended; and takes his State.
Wol.
You're welcome, my fair guests; that noble lady,
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend: note This, to confirm my welcome;
And to you all good health.
[drinks.
San.
Your grace is noble:—
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.
Wol.
My lord Sands,
I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours. note—
Ladies, you are not merry;—Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
San.
The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em
Talk us to silence.
-- 25 --
Ann.
You are a merry gamester,
My lord Sands.
San.
Yes, if I may choose my note play.14Q0920
Here's to your ladiship: and pledge it, madam;
For 'tis to such a thing,—
Ann.
You cannot shew me.
San.
I told your grace, they would talk anon.
[Trumpets within: Chambers discharg'd.
Wol.
What's that?
Cha.
Look out there, some of you.
[Exit an Att.
Wol.
What warlike voice?
And to what end is this?—Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you're priviledg'd.
Re-enter Attendant.
Cha.
How now? what is't?
Att.
A noble troop of strangers;
For so they seem: they have left their barge, and landed;
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.
Wol.
Good lord chamberlain,
Go, give'em welcome, you can speak the French tongue;
And, pray, receive'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them:—Some attend him.—
[Exit Chamberlain, attended. Company rise: Tables remov'd.
You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.
A good digestion note to you all: and, once more,
I shower a welcome on you; welcome, all.
Flourish. Enter King, and Others, as Maskers,
habited like Shepherds, usher'd by the Lord Chamberlain:
They pass directly before the Cardinal,
-- 26 --
and gracefully salute him.
A noble company: What are their pleasures?
Cha.
Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd
To tell your grace;—That, having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly
This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.
Wol.
Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay them
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasures.
[Musick. Dance form'd: King chooses Anne Bullen.
Kin.
The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O, beauty,
'Till now I never knew thee.
[Dance.
Wol.
My lord,—
Cha.
Your grace?
Wol.
Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.
Cha.
I will, my lord.
[whispers the Maskers.
Wol.
What say they?
Cha.
Such a one, they all confess,
There is, indeed; which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.
Wol.
Let me see then:—
[comes from his State.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen;—Here I'll make
My royal choice.
Kin.
You have found him, cardinal:
[unmasking.
-- 27 --
You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Wol.
I am glad,
Your grace is grown so pleasant.
Kin.
My lord chamberlain,
Pr'ythee, come hither; What fair lady's that?
Cha.
An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bullen's daughter,
The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women.
Kin.
By heaven, she is a dainty one.—Sweet heart,
I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.—A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round.
Wol.
Sir Thomas Lovel, is the banquet ready
I' the privy-camber? note
Lov.
Yes, my lord.
Wol.
Your grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
Kin.
I fear, too much.
Wol.
There's fresher air, my lord,
In the next chamber.
Kin.
Lead in your ladies, every one:—Sweet partner
I must not yet forsake you:—Let's be merry;:—
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour.—Let the musick knock it.
[Exeunt. Loud Musick.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Street.
-- 28 --
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.
1. G.
Whither away so fast, sir?
2. G.
O,—God save you!
Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great duke of Buckingham.
1. G.
I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
2. G.
Were you there?
1. G.
Yes, indeed, was I.
2. G.
Pray, speak, what has happen'd?
1. G.
You may guess quickly what.
2. G.
Is he found guilty?
1. G.
Yes, truly, is he, and condemn'd upon't.
2. G.
I am sorry for't.
1. G.
So are a number more.
2. G.
But, pray, how pass'd it?
1. G.
I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where, to his accusations
He pleaded still, not guilty, note and alledg'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
To have brought note, vivâ voce, to his face:
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2. G.
That was he,
That fed him with his prophecies?
-- 29 --
1. G.
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 pity'd in him,14Q0921 or forgotten.
2. G.
After all this, how did he bear himself?
1. G.
When he was brought again to the bar,—to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment,—he was stir'd
With such an agony, he sweat extreamly,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly,
In all the rest shew'd a most noble patience.
2. G.
I do not think, he fears death.
1. G.
Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2. G.
Certainly,
The cardinal is the end of this.
1. G.
'Tis likely,
By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder note,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2. G.
That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
1. G.
At his return,
No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally; whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
-- 30 --
2. G.
All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o'my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and doat on; call him, bounteous Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy:
1. G.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment;
Tip-staves before him, the Axe with the Edge
towards him, Halberds on each Side: with him,
Sir Thomas Lovel, Sir Nicholas Vaux,
and Others, and common People.
2. G.
Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buc.
All good people,
You that thus far note 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,
'T has done, upon the premises, but justice;
But those, that sought it, I could wish more christians;
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em:
But let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
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
-- 31 --
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, 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.
Buc.
Sir Thomas Lovel, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me I note, can't take peace with: no black envy
Shall mark my note grave.14Q0922 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 the water side I must conduct your grace;
Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.
Vau.
Prepare there,
The duke is coming: see, the barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture, as suits
The greatness of his person.
Buc.
Nay, sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was lord high constable,
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:
-- 32 --
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;
And with that blood, will make 'em 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,
Henry the eight, 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 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.
Farewel:
And when you would say something that is sad,
-- 33 --
Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!
[Exeunt Buckingham and Train.
1. G.
O, this is full of pity!—Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads,
That were the authors.
2. G.
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.
1. G.
Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
2. G.
This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.
1. G.
Let me have it;
I do not talk much.
2. G.
I am confident;
You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing, of a separation
Between the king and Catherine?
1. G.
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. G.
But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now: for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain,
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;
-- 34 --
As all think, for this business.
1. G.
'Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The arch-bishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
2. G.
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.
1. G.
'Tis woeful.
We are too open here, to argue this;
Let's think in private more.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The King's Anti-chamber.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading.
Cha.
My lord,
The horses your lordship sent for,
with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and
furnish'd: 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 serv'd before a subject, if not before the
king: which stop'd our mouths, sir.
I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have 'em;
He will have all, I think.
Enter the Dukes of Norfolk, and Suffolk.
Nor.
Well met, my good
Lord chamberlain.
Cha.
Good day to both your graces.
Suf.
How is the king employ'd?
Cha.
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor.
What's the cause?
-- 35 --
Cha.
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 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 this note business!14Q0923
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 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?
Cha.
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 his 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.
-- 36 --
Nor.
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lye like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pinch note 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 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:—
My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cha.
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 Chamberlain.
They go towards the Door: Door opens;
and the King is discover'd, sitting to a Table,
pensively, and reading.
Suf.
How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
Kin.
Who's there? ha?14Q0924
[starting up.
Nor.
I pray God, he be not angry.
Kin.
Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
-- 37 --
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.
Kin.
You're too bold:
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?—
Enter Wolsey, with 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. note—You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it:—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.
Kin.
We are busy; go.
[to Nor. and Suf.
&clquo;Nor.
&clquo;This priest has no pride in him?&crquo;
&clquo;Suf.
&clquo;Not to speak of;&crquo;
&clquo;I would not be so sick though, for his place:&crquo;
&clquo;But this can not continue.&crquo;
&clquo;Nor.
&clquo;If it do,&crquo;
&clquo;I'll venture one heave at note him.&crquo;
&clquo;Suf.
&clquo;I another.&crquo;
[Exeunt Nor. and Suf.
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, ty'd by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
-- 38 --
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.
Kin.
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 &dagger2; 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.
Kin.
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.
Kin.
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 sit fellow.
[Exit Wolsey.
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
&clquo;Wol.
&clquo;Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you&crquo;
&clquo;You are the king's now.&crquo;
&clquo;Gar.
&clquo;But to be commanded&crquo;
&clquo;For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.&crquo;
Kin.
Come hither, Gardiner.
[talk apart.
-- 39 --
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 envy'd him;
And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still: which so griev'd him,
That he ran mad, and dy'd.
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.
Kin.
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 bed-fellow? But, conscience, conscience,—
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Queen's Anti-chamber.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. note
Ann.
Not for that neither; Here's the pang that pinches:
-- 40 --
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
To leave, 's a thousand fold more bitter, than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire,—after this process
To give her the avant! it is a pity
Would move a monster.
o. L.
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
Ann.
O, God's will! much better,
She ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune,14Q0925 do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
o. L.
Alas, poor lady!
She's stranger note now again.
Ann.
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.
o. L.
Our content
Is our best having.
Ann.
By my troth, and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
o. L.
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy:
-- 41 --
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 conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.
Ann.
Nay, good troth,—
o. L.
Yes, troth, and troth,—You would not be a queen?
Ann.
No, not for all the riches under heaven.
o. L.
'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd now note would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,
What think you of a dutchess? have you limbs
To bear that load of title?
Ann.
No, in truth.
o. L.
Then you are weakly made: Pluck off 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.
Ann.
How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
o. L.
In faith, for little England
You'd venture note an emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cha.
Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth, to know
The secret of your conference?
Ann.
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
-- 42 --
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Cha.
It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.
Ann.
Now I pray God, amen!
Cha.
You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,14Q0926
Perceive I speak sincerely, and that high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, The king's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you, and note
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.
Ann.
I do not know,
What kind of my obedience I should tender;
More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, 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.
Cha.
Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,
The king hath of you. &clquo;I have perus'd her well;&crquo;
&clquo;Beauty and honour in her are so mingl'd,&crquo;
&clquo;That they have caught the king: And who knows yet,&crquo;
&clquo;But from this lady may proceed a jem,&crquo;
&clquo;To lighten all this isle?&crquo; I'll to the king,
And say, I spoke with you.
Ann.
My honour'd lord,—
[Exit Chamberlain.
-- 43 --
o. L.
Why, this it is; see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly) nor 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 upon
This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.
Ann.
This is strange to me.
o. L.
How tasts it? is it bitter? forty pence, no:
There was a lady 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?
Ann.
Come, you are pleasant.
o. L.
With your theme, I could
O'er-mount 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 fore-skirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a dutchess; Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
Ann.
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.
o. L.
What do you think of me?
[Exeunt.
-- 44 --
SCENE IV.
A Hall in Black-friars.
Trumpets, &c. Enter two Vergers, with short
silver Wands; next them, two Scribes, in the Habit
of Doctors; after them, the Bishops of Lincoln,
Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; after them,
the Arch-bishop of Canterbury, alone.
Flourish, and Enter 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, accompany'd with
a Serjeant at Arms; then, two Gentlemen, bearing
two great silver Pillars; after them, Side by Side,
the two Cardinals, Wolsey, and Campeius.
The Cardinals take their Seats upon Benches prepar'd
for them in the Front; the Bishops, theirs on each Side;
below them, the Scribes; Cryer, and other Officers,
standing in convenient Order about the Court.
Flourish. Enter the King,
and his Train, and takes his Seat under a State
upon the right Hand: then, Enter the Queen, and
her Train, and takes hers under another State
upon the left. The Court rises upon the Entry
of the King and Queen; who seated, they
are seated likewise.
Wol.
Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.
Kin.
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 it so:—Proceed.
-- 45 --
Scr.
Say, Henry, king of England, come into the
court.
Cry.
Henry king of England, &c.
Kin.
Here.
Scr.
Say, Catherine, queen of England, come into
the court.
Cry.
Catherine, queen of England, &c.
[Queen rises; goes about the Court toward
the King's Chair, and kneels at his Feet.
Que.
Sir, I desire you,14Q0927 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:
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;
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 notice,
He was from thence discharg'd. Sir, call to mind,
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
-- 46 --
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 ought,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty
Against 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 sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an note 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 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 assembl'd
To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless,
That longer you defer the note court; as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettl'd in the king.
Cam.
His grace
Hath spoken well, and justly: Therefore, madam,
-- 47 --
It's fit this royal session do proceed;
And that, without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.
Que.
Lord cardinal,—
To you I speak:
Wol.
Your pleasure, madam?
Que.
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.
Que.
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,
You 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'er-topping 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,
-- 48 --
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 falshood? yea, as much
As you have done my truth: But if 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 note no more.
Que.
My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and humlbe-mouth'd;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is cram'd with arrogancy, note 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 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 judg'd by him.
[curtsies to the King, and is going.
Cam.
The queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
-- 49 --
Disdainful to be try'd by't; 'tis not well.
She's going away.
Kin.
Call her again.
Cry.
Catherine, queen of England, come into the
court.
g. U.
Madam, you are call'd back.
Que.
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, and her Train.
Kin.
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, note could speak thee out)
The queen of earthly queens:—She's noble born;
And, like her true nobility, she has
Carry'd 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 rob'd, and bound,
There must I be unloos'd; although not there14Q0928
At once and fully satisfy'd) whether ever I
Did broach this business to your highness; or
Lay'd any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't? or ever
-- 50 --
Have to you,—but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady,—spoke one the least word, might note
Be to the prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person?
Kin.
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 note 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 justify'd? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
Desir'd it to be stir'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft,
The passages made toward it:—on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,
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 receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage 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 note a respite;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometime note our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience,14Q0929 enter'd me,
-- 51 --
Yea, with a splitting note 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
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 dy'd 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 note 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 throw. Thus hulling in
The wild sea 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.
Kin.
I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say
How far you satisfy'd me.
Lin.
So please your highness,
The question did at first so stagger me,—
-- 52 --
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.
Kin.
I then mov'd you,
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 our good note queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alledged reasons, drives 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,
Catherine our queen, before the primest creature
That's paragon'd o'the world.
Cam.
So please your highness,
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court 'till note further day:
Mean while must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.
&clquo;Kin.
&clquo;I may perceive,&crquo;
&clquo;These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor&crquo;
&clquo;This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.&crquo;
&clquo;My learn'd14Q0930 and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,&crquo;
&clquo;Pr'ythee, return! with thy approach, I know,&crquo;
&clquo;My comfort comes along.&crquo;—Break up the court;
I say, set on.
[Exeunt, in Manner as they enter'd.
-- 53 --
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A Room in the Queen's Apartment.
Queen, and certain of her Women, at Work.
Que.
Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles
Sing, and disperse them, if thou can'st: leave working.
SONG.
[I.]
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 made a lasting spring. note
II. St.
Every thing that heard him play,
e'en 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, dye.
Enter a Gentleman.
Que.
How now?
Gen.
An't please your grace, the two great cardinals
Wait in the presence.
Que.
Would they speak with me?
Gen.
They will'd me say so, madam.
Que.
Pray their graces
To come near. [Exit Gen.] What can be their business
With me, a poor weak woman, faln from favour?
I do not like14Q0931 their coming, now I think on't.
-- 54 --
They should be good men; their affairs are righteous note:
But, All hoods make not monks.
Enter Wolsey, and Campeius.
Wol.
Peace to your highness!
Que.
Your graces find me here part of a huswife,
(I would be all) against the worst may happen:
What are your pleasures with me, reverend note lords?
Wol.
May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.
Que.
Speak it here;
There's nothing I have done yet, o'my conscience,
Deserves a corner: 'Would all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy
Above a number) if my actions
Were try'd by every tongue, every eye saw 'em,
Envy and base opinion set against 'em,
I know my life so even: If your business
Seek me out, and that way I am wise in note,
Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing.
Wol.
Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, Regina serenissima,—
Que.
O note, 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:
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious;
Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
May be absolv'd in English.
-- 55 --
Wol.
Noble lady,
I am sorry,14Q0932 my integrity should breed
(And service to his majesty and you)
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
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 note cause.
Cam.
Most honour'd madam,
My lord of York,—out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace;
Forgetting (like a good man) your late censure
Both of his truth and him, (which was too far)—
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service, and his counsel.
&clquo;Que.
&clquo;To betray me.&crquo;—
My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!)
But how to make ye 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. I was set at work
Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking
Either for such men, or such business:
For her sake that I have been, (for I feel
The last sit of my greatness) good your graces,
Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause;
-- 56 --
Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.
Wol.
Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears;
Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Que.
In England!14Q0933
But little for my profit: Can you think, lords,
That any Englishman dare give me counsel?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his note highness' pleasure,
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest)
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.
I would, your grace
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
Que.
How, sir?
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'er-take you,
You'll part away disgrac'd.
Wol.
He tells you rightly.
Que.
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.
Que.
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 'em for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
-- 57 --
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
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 burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Wol.
Madam, this is a meer distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Que.
Ye turn me into nothing; Woe upon ye,
And all such false professors! Would you have me
(If you have any justice, any pity;
If you be any thing but churchmen's habits)
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas, he has banish'd me his bed already;
His love, too long ago: I am old, my lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience note. What can happen
To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.
Cam.
Your fears are worse.
Que.
Have I liv'd thus long (let me speak myself,
Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory)
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd him?
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers, to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour,—a great patience.
-- 58 --
Wol.
Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
Que.
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.
Que.
'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.
What will note become of me now, wretched lady?
I am the most unhappy woman living.—
Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
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 lilly,
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: Why should we, good lady,
Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places,
The way of our profession is against it;
We are to cure such note sorrows, not to sow 'em.
For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage:
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.
I know, you have a gentle, noble, temper,
A soul as even as a calm; Pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.
-- 59 --
Cam.
Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues
With these weak women's fears: A noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;
Beware, you lose it not: For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.
Que.
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.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in the King's Apartment.
Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor.
If you will now unite in your complaints,
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.
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 peers14Q0934
-- 60 --
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?
Cha.
My lords, you speak your pleasures:
What he deserves of you and me, I know;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us) I much fear. If you cannot note
Bar his access to the 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. No, he's settl'd,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Sur.
Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.
Nor.
Believe it, this is true.
In the divorce, his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears,
As I would wish mine enemy.
Sur.
How came
His practices to light?
Suf.
Most strangely.
Sur.
O, how, how?
Suf.
The cardinal's letters to the pope miscarry'd,
And came note to the eye o'the king: wherein was read,
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o'the divorce; For if
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive,
-- 61 --
My king is tangl'd in affection to
A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen.
Sur.
Has the king this?
Suf.
Believe it.
Sur.
Will this work?
Cha.
The king in this perceives him, how he coasts,
And hedges, 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 marry'd the fair lady.
Sur.
'Would he had!
Suf.
May you be happy in your wish, my lord;
For, I profess, you have it.
Sur.
Now all my joy14Q0935
Trace the conjunction!
Suf.
My amen to't.
Nor.
All men's.
Suf.
There's order given for her coronation:
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecounted.—But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and compleat
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.
Sur.
But, will the king
Digest note this letter of the cardinal's?
The lord forbid!
Nor.
Marry, amen!
Suf.
No, no;
There be more wasps that buz about his nose,
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Is stolen note away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
-- 62 --
Has left the cause note o'the note king unhandl'd; 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.
Cha.
Now, God incense him,
And let him cry, ha, louder!
Nor.
But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer?
Suf.
He is return'd, in his opinions; which
Have satisfy'd the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colledges
Almost in christendom: shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Catherine no more
Shall be call'd, queen; but princess dowager,
And widow note to prince Arthur.
Nor.
This same Cranmer's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.
Suf.
He has; and we shall see him,
For it, an arch-bishop.
Nor.
So I hear.
Suf.
'Tis so.
The cardinal—
Enter, at a distant Part of the Room,
Wolsey, and Cromwel.
Nor.
Observe, observe, he's moody.
Wol.
The packet, Cromwel,
Gave't you the king?
Cro.
To his own hand, in his bed-chamber.
Wol.
Look'd he o'the inside of the paper?
Cro.
Presently
-- 63 --
He did unseal them: and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance: You, my lord, he bad
Attend him here this morning.
Wol.
Is he ready
To come abroad?
Cro.
I think, by this he is.
Wol.
Leave me a while.—
[Exit Cromwel.
It shall be to the dutchess of Alenson,
The French king's sister: he shall marry her.—
Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:
There's more in't than fair visage.—Bullen!
No, we'll no Bullens.—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 vertuous,
And well deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lye i'the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretick, and arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Nor.
He is vex'd at something.
Sur.
I would, 'twere something that would fret the string,
-- 64 --
The master cord of's heart.
Enter King, turning over some Papers;
Sir Thomas Lovel attending.
Suf.
The king, the king.
Kin.
What piles of wealth14Q0936 hath he accumulated
To his own portion! and what expence by the hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i'the name of thrift,
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: he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and then, anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
Kin.
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; And, wot you, what I found
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,—
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of houshold; which
I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Nor.
It's heaven's will;
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.
Kin.
If we did think,
-- 65 --
His contemplations note 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, not worth
His serious considering.
[takes his Seat; and whispers
Lovel, who goes to the Cardinal.
Wol.
Heaven forgive me!—
Ever God bless your highness!
Kin.
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 note
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' the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
Kin.
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.
Kin.
'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,
-- 66 --
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.
&clquo;Wol.
&clquo;What should this mean?&crquo;
&clquo;Sur.
&clquo;The lord note increase this business!&crquo;
Kin.
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,14Q0937 I confess, your royal graces,
Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could
My study'd purposes requite; note which went
Beyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires;
Yet fill'd with my abilities: Mine own ends
Have been mine note so, that evermore they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person, and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks;
My prayers to heav'n note for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
'Till death, that winter, kill it.
Kin.
Fairly answer'd;
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated: the honour of it
Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart drop'd love, my pow'r rain'd honour, more
-- 67 --
On you, than any; so your hand, and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
Wol.
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 'em, 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.
Kin.
'Tis nobly spoken:—
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.—Read o'er &dagger2; this;
And, after, &dagger2; this: and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.
[Exit King, frowning upon the Cardinal; the Nobles
throng after him, smiling, and whispering.
Wol.
What should this mean?
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
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;
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,
-- 68 --
And see 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 spight 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, farewel!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
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 Esher note-house, my lord of Winchester's,14Q0938
'Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol.
Stay,
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Suf.
Who dare cross 'em?
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 base metal ye are molded, envy:
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
-- 69 --
As if it fed ye? and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin?
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have christian warrant for 'em, 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:
Bad me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Ty'd it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it?
Sur.
The king, that gave it.
Wol.
It must be himself then.
Sur.
Thou'rt a proud traitor, priest.
Wol.
Proud lord, thou ly'st;
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.
Sur.
Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, rob'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together)
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
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,
-- 70 --
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, i' 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.
By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st feel
My sword i' the life-blood of thee else.—My lords,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewel nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.
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,—as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if note he live, will scarce be gentlemen,—
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:—I'll startle you
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol.
How much, methinks, I could despise this man,
-- 71 --
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 shew a little honesty.
Wol.
Speak on, sir;
I dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is, to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur.
I had rather want those, than my head. Have at you.
14Q0939First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Nor.
Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego & Rex meus
Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.
Suf.
Then, that, without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
Sur.
Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassalis note, to conclude,
Without the king's will, or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.
Suf.
That, out of meer ambition, you have caus'd
Your holy hat to be stampt on the king's coin.
-- 72 --
Sur.
Then, that you have sent innumerable substance,
(By what means got, I leave to your own conscience)
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the meer undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cha.
O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:
His faults lye 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.
Suf.
Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,—
Because all those things, you have done of late
By your power legatine note note within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a Præmunire,—
That therefore such a writ be su'd against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Castles, and note whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king's protection: This is my charge.
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 Nobles.
Wol.
So farewel14Q0940 to the little good you bear me.
Farewel, a long farewel, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
-- 73 --
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,
These note 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
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 he note would aspire, to,
That sweet aspéct 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 Cromwel, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwel?
Cro.
I have no power to speak, sir.
Wol.
What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit note wonder,
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am faln indeed.
Cro.
How does your grace?
Wol.
Why, well;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwel.
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,
-- 74 --
These ruin'd pillars, note out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwel, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Cro.
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?
Cro.
The heaviest, and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol.
God bless him!
Cro.
The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen
Lord chancellor in your place.
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?
Cro.
That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Install'd lord arch-bishop of Canterbury.
Wol.
That's news indeed.
Cro.
Last, that the lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long marry'd,
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 Cromwel,
The king has gone beyond me; all my glories
-- 75 --
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, Cromwel;
I am a poor faln 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: Good Cromwel,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.
Cro.
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 Cromwel leaves his lord.—
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.
Wol.
Cromwel, 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.
Let's dry our eyes: And thus far hear me, Cromwel;
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,14Q0941
Say, Wolsey,—that once trod the ways of note 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 note ruin'd me.
-- 76 --
Cromwel, 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 Cromwel,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And, pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwel, Cromwel,
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.
Cro.
Good sir, have patience.
Wol.
So I have. Farewel
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
[Ex.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Street.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.
1. Gen.
You are well met once again.
2. Gen.
And so are you.
1. Gen.
You come to take your stand here, and behold
The lady Anne pass from her coronation?
2. Gen.
'Tis all my business. At our last encounter,
-- 77 --
The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1. Gen.
'Tis very true: But that time offer'd sorrow;
This, general joy.
2. G.
'Tis well:14Q0942 the citizens,
I am sure, have shewn at full their royal note minds;
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward
In celebration of this day note with shews,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
1. G.
Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2. G.
May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That † paper in your hand? note
1. G.
Yes; 'tis the list
Of those, that claim their offices this day
By custom of the coronation.
The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest.
2. G.
I thank you, sir; had I not known these customs,
I should have been beholding to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Catherine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?
1. G.
That I can tell you too, sir. The arch-bishop
Of Canterbury, accompany'd with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She was often cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
-- 78 --
Since which, she was removed to Kymbolton note;
Where she remains now, sick.
2. G.
Alas, good lady!—
[Trumpets.
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.
Order of the Procession.
A lively Flourish of Trumpets. Then, Enter,
1. two Judges.
2. Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before him.
3. Choristers singing.
[Musick.
4. Mayor of London
, bearing the Mace: then, Garter, in
his Coat of Arms, on his Head a gilt copper Crown.
5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his Head
a demi-Coronal of Gold: with him, the Earl of Surrey,
bearing the Rod of Silver with the Dove, crowned with
an Earl's Coronet. Collars of SS.
6. Duke of Suffolk, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet
on his Head, bearing a long white Wand, as High
Steward: with him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the
Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his Head. Collars
of SS.
7. A Canopy, born by four of the Cinque-ports; under
it, the Queen, rob'd, in her Hair richly adorn'd with
Pearl, crown'd: on each Side her, the Bishops of London
and Winchester.
8. The old Dutchess of Norfolk, in a Coronal of Gold
wrought with Flowers, bearing the Queen's Train.
9. Certain Ladies, or Countesses, with plain Circlets of
Gold without Flowers.
2. G.
A royal train, believe me. These I know;
Who's that, that bears the scepter?
-- 79 --
1. G.
Marquis Dorset:
And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.
2. G.
A bold brave gentleman. That next should be
The duke of Suffolk.
1. G.
'Tis the same; high steward.
2. G.
And that my lord of Norfolk?
1. G.
Yes.
2. G.
Heaven bless thee!
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.—
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady:
I cannot blame his conscience.
1. G.
They that bear
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.
2. G.
Those men are happy; and so are all, are near her.
I take it, she that carries up the train,
Is that old noble lady, dutchess of Norfolk.
1. G.
It is; and all the rest are countesses.
2. G.
Their coronets say so. These are stars, indeed;
And, sometimes, falling ones.
1. G.
No more of that.14Q0943
[Exit Procession. A great Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter a third Gentleman.
2. G.
God save you, sir! and where have you been broiling?
3. G.
Among the croud i'the abbey; where a finger
Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stiffled.
With the meer rankness of their joy.
2. G.
You saw
-- 80 --
The ceremony?
3. G.
That I did.
1. G.
How was it?
3. G.
Well worth the seeing.
2. G.
Good sir, speak it to us.
3. G.
As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: Hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think) flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost: Such joy
I never saw before. Great-belly'd women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the prease note,
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say, That is note my wife, there; note all were woven
So strangely in one piece.
2. G.
But, pray, what follow'd?
3. G.
At length, her grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint like,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the arch-bishop of Canterbury
-- 81 --
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Lay'd nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest musick of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1. G.
Good sir,
You must no more call it York-place, that's past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and call'd—Whitehall.
3. G.
I know it;
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.
2. G.
What two reverend bishops
Were those, that went on each side of the queen?
3. G.
Stokesly, and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,
(Newly prefer'd from the king's secretary)
The other, London.
2. G.
He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the arch-bishop's, note
The virtuous Cranmer.
3. G.
All the land knows that:
However, yet there is no great breach; when it comes,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.
2. G.
Who may that be, I pray you.
3. G.
Thomas Cromwel;
A man in much esteem wi' the king, and truly
A worthy friend. The king has made him master
O' the jewel-house, and one o' note the privy-council.
2. G.
He will deserve more.
-- 82 --
3. G.
Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there shall note be my guests;
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.
1. 2.
You may command us, sir.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Kymbolton.
A Room in one of the royal Seats.
Enter Catharine, Dowager, sick; led between
Griffith her gentleman-Usher, and
Patience her Woman.
Gri.
How does your grace?
Cat.
O, Griffith, sick to death:
My legs, like loaded note branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burthen: Reach a chair;
So, † now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?
Gri.
Yes, madam; but, I think note, your grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't.
Cat.
Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd:
If well, he step'd before me, hapily,
For my example.
Gri.
Well, the voice goes, madam.
For after the stout earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
(As a man sorely tainted) to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
He could not sit his mule.
Cat.
Alas, poor man!
-- 83 --
Gri.
At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave these words,—O father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity.
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold, should be his last) full of note repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave note his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Cat.
So may he rest; his faults lye gently note on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,—He was a man
Of an unbounded stomack, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
Tyth'd note all the kingdom:14Q0944 simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: I' the presence
He would say untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning: He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
Gri.
Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?
-- 84 --
Cat.
Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else.
Gri.
This cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle14Q0945
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one:
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading:
Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer,
And though he were unsatisfy'd in getting,
(Which was a sin) yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely: Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford: one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not 'till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he dy'd, fearing God.
Cat.
After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth, and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!—
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee.—Good Griffith,
-- 85 --
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.
[Woman composes her. Sad and solemn Musick.
Gri.
She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.
Enter (as in Vision) solemnly, tripping one after another,
six Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their
Heads Garlands of Bays, and golden Vizards on their Faces;
Branches of Bays, or Palm, in their Hands. They first congee
unto her, then dance: and, at certain Changes, the two
first hold a spare Garland over her Head; at which, the
other four make reverend Curtsies: Then the two, that held
the Garland, deliver the same to the other next two; who
observe the same Order in their Changes, note and holding the
Garland over her Head: Which done, they deliver the same
Garland to the last two; who likewise observe the same
Order. At which, (as it were by Inspiration) she makes,
in her Sleep, Signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her Hands
to Heaven. And so in their dancing they vanish, carrying
the Garland with them.
Cat.
Spirits of peace, [starting out of her Sleep] where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Gri.
Madam, we are here.
Cat.
It is not you I call for:
Saw ye none enter, since I slept?
Gri.
None, madam.
Cat.
No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand note beams upon me, like the sun?
They promis'd me eternal happiness;
-- 86 --
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,
Assuredly.
Gri.
I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy.
Cat.
Bid the musick leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me.
[Musick ceases.
&clquo;Pat.
&clquo;Do you note,&crquo;
&clquo;How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?&crquo;
&clquo;How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,&crquo;
&clquo;And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?&crquo;
&clquo;Gri.
&clquo;She is going, wench; pray, pray.&crquo;
&clquo;Pat.
&clquo;Heaven comfort her!&crquo;
Enter a Gentleman.
Gen.
An't like your grace,—
Cat.
You are a saucy fellow;
Deserve we no more reverence?
Gri.
You're to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.
Gen.
I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Cat.
Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow
Let me ne'er see again.
[Exeunt Gri. and Gen.
Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap.
Madam, the same, your servant.
Cat.
O my lord,
The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
-- 87 --
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
What is your pleasure with me?
Cap.
Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Cat.
O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
'Tis like a pardon after execution:
That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?
Cap.
Madam, in good health.
Cat.
So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom!—Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
Pat.
No, madam.
[reaching it.
Cat.
Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This &dagger2; to my lord the king:
Cap.
Most willingly, madam. note
Cat.
In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chast loves, his young daughter:—
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!—
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I hope, she will deserve well) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
-- 88 --
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,
A right good husband; let him be a noble;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
The last is, for my men;—they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me;—
That they may have their wages duly pay'd'em,
And something over to remember me by:
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents: And, good my lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.
Cap.
By heaven, I will;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man.
Cat.
I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing from him
Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.—Mine eyes grow dim.—Farewel,
My lord—Griffith, farewel.—Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chast wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like
-- 89 --
A queen, and daughter to a king, interr me.
I can no more.
[Exeunt, leading Catherine.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Gallery in the Palace.
Enter Gardiner14Q0946 Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a
Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovel.
Gar.
It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Pag.
It hath strook.
Gar.
These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.—Good hour of night, sir Thomas!
Whither so late?
Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar.
I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero
With the duke of Suffolk.
Lov.
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar.
Not yet, sir Thomas Lovel. What's the matter?
It seems, you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk
(As, they say, spirits do) at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.
Lov.
My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,
They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
-- 90 --
She'll with the labour end.
Gar.
The fruit, she goes with note,
I pray for heartily; that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas,
I wish it grub'd up now.
Lov.
Methinks, I could
Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
Gar.
But, sir, sir,—
Hear me, sir Thomas: you're a gentleman
Of mine own way, I know you wise, religious;
And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,—
'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovel, take't of me,—
'Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Cromwel,—
Beside that of the jewel-house, he is made master
O 'the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time note will load him: The arch-bishop
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak
One syllable against him?
Gar.
Yes, yes, sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (I may tell it you) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is)
A most arch heretick, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved,
-- 91 --
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace,
And princely care; fore-seeing those fell mischiefs,
Our reasons lay'd before him) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas.
Lov.
Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant.
[Exeunt Gardiner, and Page. As Lovel is going out,
Enter the King, and the Duke of Suffolk, as new risen from Play.
Kin.
Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf.
Sir, I did never win of you before.
Kin.
But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.—
Now, Lovel, from the queen what is the news?
Lov.
I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.
Kin.
What say'st thou? ha!
To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
Lov.
So said her woman; and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death.
Kin.
Alas, good lady!
Suf.
God safely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travel, to the glading note of
Your highness with an heir!
Kin.
'Tis midnight, Charles,
-- 92 --
Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Would not be friendly to.
Suf.
I wish your highness
A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
Kin.
Charles, good night.—
[Exit Suffolk.
Enter Sir Antony Denny.
Well, sir, what follows?
Den.
Sir, I have brought my lord the arch-bishop,
As you commanded me.
Kin.
Ha! Canterbury?
Den.
Ay, my good lord.
Kin.
'Tis true: Where is he, Denny?
Den.
He attends your highness' pleasure.
Kin.
Bring him to us.
[Exit Denny.
&clquo;Lov.
&clquo;This is about that which the bishop spake;&crquo;
&clquo;I am happily come hither.&crquo;
Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.
Kin.
Avoid the gallery. [Lovel seemeth to stay.] Ha! I have said. Begone. note
What! note
[Exeunt Lovel, and Denny.
&clquo;Cra.
&clquo;I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus?&crquo;
&clquo;'Tis his aspéct of terror. All's not well.&crquo;
Kin.
How now, my lord? You do desire to know
Wherefore I sent for you.
Cra.
It is my duty,
To attend your highness' pleasure.
Kin.
Pray you, arise,
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
-- 93 --
I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me your hand.
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, 'till further trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our tower: you a brother of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
Cra.
I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.
Kin.
Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you,
Without indurance, further.
Cra.
Most dread liege,
The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty;
-- 94 --
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
Kin.
Know you not
How your state stands i'the world, with the whole world?
Your enemies many note, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion: and not ever
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been done.
You are potently oppos'd, and with a malice
Of as great size: Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice note for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.
Cra.
God, and your majesty,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is lay'd for me.
Kin.
Be of good cheer;
They shall no more prevail, than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
You do appear before them: if they shall chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this &dagger2; ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
-- 95 --
There make before them.—Look, the good man weeps!
He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!
I swear, he is true-hearted; and a soul
None better in my kingdom.—Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you.—He has strangl'd note
His language in his tears.
[Exit Cranmer.
Gen. [within]
Come back; What mean you?
Enter old Lady, Lovel following.
o. L.
I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring
Will make my boldness manners.—Now, good angels
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings!
Kin.
Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?
Say, ay; and of a boy.
o. L.
Ay, ay, my liege;
And of a lovely boy; The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.
Kin.
Lovel,—
Lov.
Sir.
Kin.
Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen.
[Exit King.
o. L.
An hundred marks! By this light, I'll have more.
An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl was like to him? I'll
Have more, or else unsay't: now note, while 'tis hot,
I'll put it to the issue.
[Exeunt.
-- 96 --
SCENE II.
The council-Chamber.
Chair, under a State, for the King; beneath,
a Table: Chamber-keeper attending. Servants
at the Door without; to which, Enter Cranmer.
Cra.
I hope, I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,
That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast? what means this?—Hoa!
Who waits there?—Sure, you know me?
Kee.
Yes, my lord;
But yet I cannot help you.
Cra.
Why?
Enter Doctor Butts.
Kee.
Your grace
Must wait 'till you be call'd for.
Cra.
So.
But.
This is a piece of note malice. I am glad,
I came this way so happily: The king
Shall understand it presently.
[Exit Butts.
Cra.
'Tis Butts,
The king's physician; as he pass'd along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me:
Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,
This is of purpose lay'd, by some that hate me,
(God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice)
To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me
Wait else at door; a fellow counsellor,
Among note boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures
Must be fulfil'd, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King, and Butts, at a Window above.
But.
I'll shew your grace the strangest sight,—
-- 97 --
Kin.
What's that, Butts?
But.
I think, your highness saw this many a day.
Kin.
Body o' me, where is it?
But.
There, † my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and foot-boys.
Kin.
Ha! 'Tis he, indeed:
Is this the honour they do one another?
'Tis well, there's one above 'em yet. I had thought,
They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
(At least, good manners) as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close;
We shall hear more anon.
[Curtain drawn.
Enter the Lord Chancellor, Duke of
Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Surrey,
Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwel.
The Lord Chancellor places himself at the upper End
of the Table on the left Hand, a Seat being left void
above him as for the Arch-bishop of Canterbury;
the rest seat themselves in Order on each Side;
Cromwel at lower End, as Secretary.
Chan.
Speak to the business, Mr. secretary;
Why are we met in council?
Cro.
Please your honours,
The chiefest note cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gar.
Has he had knowledge of it?
Cro.
Yes.
-- 98 --
Nor.
Who waits there?
Kee.
Without, my noble lords?
Gar.
Yes.
Kee.
My lord arch-bishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chan.
Let him come in.
Kee.
Your grace may enter now.
Cranmer approaches the Council Table.
Chan.
My good lord arch-bishop, I am very sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That † chair stand empty: But we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable
Of our flesh;14Q0947 few are angels: out of which frailty,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chaplains',
(For so we are inform'd) with new opinions,
Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
Gar.
Which reformation must be sudden too,
My noble lords: for those, that tame wild horses,
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle;
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em,
'Till they obey the manage. If we suffer
(Out of our easiness, and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness,
Farewel all physick: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, and a general taint
Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pity'd in our memories.
-- 99 --
Cra.
My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching,
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely; and the end
Was ever, to do well: nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a publick peace, than I do.
Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.
Suf.
Nay, my lord,
That cannot be; you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
Gar.
My lord, because we have business of more moment,
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the tower;
Where being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cra.
Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you,
You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,
'Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
-- 100 --
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Gar.
My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Cro.
My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.
Gar.
Good Mr. secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
Cro.
Why, my lord?
Gar.
Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
Cro.
Not sound?
Gar.
Not sound, I say.
Cro.
'Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
Gar.
I shall remember this bold language.
Cro.
Do:
Remember your bold life too.
Chan.
This14Q0948 note is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar.
I have done.
Cro.
And I.
-- 101 --
Chan.
Then note thus for you, my lord,—It stands agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to the tower a prisoner;
There to remain, 'till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords?
all.
We are.
Cra.
Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the tower, my lords?
Gar.
What other
Would you expect? You're strangely troublesome:—
Let some o'the guard be ready there.
Cra.
For me?
Enter Guard.
Must I go like a traitor thither?
Gar.
Receive him,
And see him safe i' the tower.
Cra.
Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue of that &dagger2; ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Cha.
This is the king's ring.
Sur.
'Tis no counterfeit.
Suf.
'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.
Nor.
Do you think, my lords,
The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?
Cha.
'Tis now too certain:
How much more is his life in value with him?
'Would I were fairly out on't.
-- 102 --
Cro.
My mind gave me,
In seeking tales, and informations,
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at)
Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye.
Enter King, frowning on them; takes his Seat.
Gar.
Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise, but most religious:
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
Kin.
You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flatteries note now, and in my presence;
They are too thin and base to hide offences,
To me you cannot reach: You play the spaniel,
And think with waging of your tongue to win me;
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.—
Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think this place note becomes thee not.
Sur.
May it please your grace,—
Kin.
No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought, I had had men of some understanding
And wisdom of my council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that title)
-- 103 --
This honest man, wait like a lousy foot-boy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom: There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean note;
Which ye shall never have, while I live.
Chan.
Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd,
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice;
I am sure, in me.
Kin.
Well, well, my lords, respect him;
Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it:
I will say thus much for him, If a prince
May be beholding to a subject, I
Am, for his love and service, so to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be friends, for shame, my lords.—My lord of Canterbury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me:
There is note a fair young maid, that yet wants baptism;
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cra.
The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour; How may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?
Kin.
Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons:14Q0949 you shall have
Two noble partners with you; the old dutchess of Norfolk,
-- 104 --
And lady marquiss Dorset; Will these please you?—
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace, and love, this man.
Gar.
With a true heart,
And brother's note love, I do it.
Cra.
And let heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
Kin.
Good man, those joyful tears shew thy true heart. note
The common voice, I see, is verify'd
Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.—
Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long
To have this young one made a christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Court of the Palace.
Noise and Tumult within. Enter Porter, and his Man.
Por.
You'll leave your note noise14Q0950
Anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court
For Paris-garden note? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
within.
Good Mr. porter, I belong to the larder.
Por.
Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, you rogue:
Is this a place to roar in? note—
Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones;
These are but switches to 'em.—
I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christnings?
Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
Man.
Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible,
(Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons)
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
-- 105 --
On May-day morning, which will never be:
We may as well note push against Paul's, as stir 'em.
Por.
How got they in, and be hang'd?
Man.
Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see † the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
Por.
You did nothing, sir.
Man.
I am not Sampson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow 'em down before me: but, if I spar'd
Any, that had a head to hit, either young
Or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her.
within.
Do you hear, Mr. porter?
Por.
I shall be with you presently,
Good Mr. puppy.—Keep the door close, sirrah.
Man.
What would you have me do?
Por.
What should you do,
But knock 'em down by the dozens?—Is this Morefields,
To muster in? or have we some strange Indian,
Wi'the great tool, come to court, the women so besiege us?
Bless me,
What a fry of fornication is at door!
O'my christian conscience, this one christning will
Beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather,
And all together.
Man.
The spoons will be the bigger, sir.
There is a fellow somewhat near the door,
He should be a brazier by his face,
For, o'my conscience, twenty of the dog-days
Now reign in his nose; all that stand about him are
-- 106 --
Under the line, they need no other penance:
That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head,
And three times was his nose discharg'd against me;
He stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us.
There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit
Near him, that rail'd upon me,
'Till her pink'd porringer fell off her head,
For kindling such combustion note in the state:
I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman,
Who cry'd out, clubs! when I might see from far
Some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour,
Which were the hope o'the Strand where she was quarter'd:
They fell on, I made good my place; at length
They came to the broom-staff wi'me note, I defy'd 'em still;
When suddenly a file of boys behind 'em,
Loose shot, deliver'd such a shower of pebbles,
That I was fain to draw mine honour in,
And let 'em win the work:
The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.
Por.
These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse,
And fight for bitten apples; that no audience,
But the sweet tribulation of Tower-hill,
Or the limbs of Lime-house, their dear brothers, are
Able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo
Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days;
Besides the running banquet of two beadles,
That is to come.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cha.
Mercy o'me, what a note multitude are here!
They grow still too, from all parts they are coming,
As if we kept a fair! Where are these porters,
These lazy knaves?—Ye've made a fine hand, fellows
-- 107 --
There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these
Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christning.
Por.
An't please your honour,
We are but men; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a pieces, we have done:
An army cannot rule 'em.
Cha.
As I live,
If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines, for neglect: Y'are lazy knaves;
And here ye lye baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound;
They're come already from the christening:
Go, break among the prease, and find a way note out
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months.
[Exit Chamberlain.
Por.
Make way there for the princess.
Man.
You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ake.
Por.
You i'the chamblet,
Get up o'the rail, I'll peck you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt, forcing back the Croud.
SCENE IV.
The same.
Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen,
Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk
with his Marshal's Staff, Duke of Suffolk,
two Noblemen bearing great standing Bowls for
the christning Gifts: then four Noblemen bearing
-- 108 --
a Canopy, under which the Dutchess of Norfolk,
Godmother, bearing the Child richly habited in a
Mantle &c. Train born by a Lady: then follow
the Marchioness Dorset, the other Godmother, and
Ladies. Troop halts, and Garter advances.
Gar.
Heaven, from14Q0951 thy endless goodness, send prosperous
life, long and ever happy, to the high and mighty
princess of England, Elizabeth!
Flourish. Enter King, and Train.
Cra.
And to your royal grace, and the good queen,
My noble partners, and myself, thus pray;—
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever lay'd up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!
Kin.
Thank you, good lord arch-bishop:
What is her name?
Cra.
Elizabeth.
Kin.
Stand up, lord.—
With this † kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
Into whose hand I give thy life.
Cra.
Amen!
Kin.
My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:
I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cra.
Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be
(But few now living can behold that goodness)
-- 109 --
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Sheba note was never
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue,
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such note a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubl'd on her: truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: her own shall bless her;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows with her:
In her days, every man shall eat in safety,
Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect way of honour,
And by that note claim their greatness, not by blood.
[Nor shall this peace14Q0952 sleep with her: But as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phœnix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness)
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour, and the greatness of his name,
Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
-- 110 --
To all the plains about him: Our children's children
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
Kin.
Thou speakest wonders.]
Cra.
She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
'Would I had known no more! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
A pure unspotted note lilly shall she pass
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
Kin.
O lord arch-bishop,
Thou hast made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing:
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my maker.—
I thank ye all.—To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good note brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful.—Lead the way, lords;—
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house; for all shall stay,
This little one shall make it holiday.
[Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
All that are here: Some come to take their ease, note
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
They'll say, 'tis naught: note others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry,—that's witty;
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we are like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,
And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.
