1 Gentleman.
Whither away so fast?

2 Gen.
O Sir, God save ye:
Ev'n to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

1 Gen.
I'll save you
That labour, Sir. All's now done, but the Ceremony
Of bringing back the pris'ner.

2 Gen.
Were you there?

1 Gen.
Yes, indeed, was I.

2 Gen.
Pray, speak, what has happen'd?

1 Gen.
You may guess quickly, what.

2 Gen.
Is he found guilty?

1 Gen.
Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.

2 Gen.
I'm sorry for't.

1 Gen.
So are a number more.

2 Gen.
But, pray, how pass'd it?

1 Gen.
I'll tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the Bar; where, to his Accusations
He pleaded still not guilty; and alledg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The King's Attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd

To have brought vivâ voce to his Face;
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor,
Sir Gilbert Pecke his chancellor, and John Court
Confessor to him, with that devil-Monk
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gen.
That was he,
That fed him with his prophecies.

1 Gen.
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 pitied in him, or forgotten.

2 Gen.
After all this, how did he bear himself?

1 Gen.
When he was brought again to th' bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his Judgment, he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he sweat extremely;
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 Gen.
I do not think, he fears death.

1 Gen.
Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.

2 Gen.
Certainly,
The Cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gen.
'Tis likely,
By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then Deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

2 Gen.
That trick of state
Was a deep, envious one.

1 Gen.
At his return,

No doubt, he will requite it; this is noted,
And, gen'rally, who-ever the King favours,
The Cardinal instantly will find employment for,
And far enough from court too.

2 Gen.
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 courtesie. SCENE II. Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, (Tipstaves before him, the Axe with the edge towards him. Halberds on each side) accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common People, &c.

1 Gen.
Stay there, Sir,
And see the noble ruin'd Man you speak of.

2 Gen.
Let's stand close and behold him.

Buck.
All good People,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me:
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
And by that name must die; yet, heav'n bear witness,
And if I have a conscience, let it sink me
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful.
To th' law I bear no malice for my death,
'Thas done, upon the Premises, but Justice:
But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians;
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em;
Yet 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
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 heav'n. 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 forgive me frankly.

Buck.
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all.
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: ^{1 note}

Lov.
To th' water-side I must conduct your Grace,
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,

Who undertakes you to your end.

Vaux.
Prepare there,
The Duke is coming: see, the barge be ready:
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his Person.

Buck.
Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was Lord high Constable,
And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:
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 tryal fell; God's peace be with him!
Henry the Sev'nth succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal Prince
Restor'd to me my honours; and, from ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroak has taken
For ever from the world. I had my tryal,
And must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortune, both
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most.
A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heav'n has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
^{2 note}Where you are lib'ral of your loves and counsels,

Be sure, you be not loose; those you make friends,
And give your hearts too ^note, 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 leave ye; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me:
Farewel; and when you would say something sad,
Speak, how I fell—I've done; and God forgive me! [Exeunt Buckingham and Train.

1 Gen.
O, this is full of pity; Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads,
That were the authors.

2 Gen.
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 Gen.
Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? you do not doubt my faith, Sir?

2 Gen.
This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gen.
Let me have it;
I do not talk much.

2 Gen.
I am confident;
You shall, Sir; did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the King and Cath'rine?

1 Gen.
Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor strait
To stop the rumour; and allay those tongues,
That durst disperse it.

2 Gen.
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,
As all think, for this business.

1 Gen.
'Tis the Cardinal;
And meerly to revenge him on the Emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The Arch-bishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2 Gen.
I think, you've 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 Gen.
'Tis woful.
We are too open here to argue this:
Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. SCENE III. An Antechamber in the Palace.

Enter Lord Chamberlain reading a letter.

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 stopp'd our mouths, Sir.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlain, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.

Nor.
Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.

Cham.
Good day to both your Graces.

Suf.
How is the King employ'd?

Cham.
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Nor.
What's the cause?

Cham.
It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.

Suf.
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.

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

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

Nor.
How holily he works in all his business,
And with what zeal? for now he has crackt the league
'Tween us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew.
He dives into the King's soul, and there scatters
Doubts, dangers, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despair, and all these for his marriage;
And out of all these, to restore the King,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of Her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence,
That angels love good men with; even of her,
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the King; and is not this course pious?

Cham.
Heav'n keep me from such counsel! 'tis most true,
These news are ev'ry where; ev'ry tongue speaks 'em,
And ev'ry true heart weeps for't. All, that dare
Look into these affairs, see his main end,
The French King's sister. Heav'n will one day open
The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold, bad man.

Suf.
And free us from his slavery.

Nor.
We had need pray, and heartily, for deliv'rance;
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
^{3 note}

Suf.
For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him, there's my Creed:
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the King please: his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike; they're breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him, that made him proud, the Pope.

Nor.
Let's in.
And with some other business put the King
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him;
My lord, you'll bear us company?

Cham.
Excuse me.
The King hath sent me other-where; besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships. [Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Nor.
Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.

SCENE IV. The Scene draws, and discovers the King sitting and reading pensively.

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

King.
Who's there? ha?

Nor.
Pray God, he be not angry.

King.
Who's there, I say? how dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor.
A gracious King, that pardons all offences,
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way,
Is business of estate; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.

King.
Ye are too bold:
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha? Enter Wolsey, and Campeius the Pope's Legat, with a Commission.
Who's there? my good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience!
Thou art a cure fit for a King.—You're welcome,
Most learned rev'rend Sir, into our kingdom; [To Campeius.
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 Conf'rence.

King.
We are busie; go. [To Norfolk and Suffolk.

Nor.
This priest has no pride in him?

Suf.
Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick though, for his place:

But this cannot continue.

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

Suf.
I another. [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.

Wol.
Your Grace has giv'n 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,
The tryal 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 gen'ral tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;
Whom once more I present unto your Highness.

King.
And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy Conclave for their loves;
They've sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.

Cam.
Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble: to your Highness' hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,
(The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant,
In the impartial judging of this business.

King.
Two equal men: the Queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol.
I know your Majesty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her what
A woman of less place might ask by law;
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King.
Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour

To him that does best, God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary,
I find him a fit fellow. Enter Gardiner.

Wol.
Give me your hand; much joy and favour to you;
You are the King's now.

Gard.
But to be commanded
For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me.

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

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
Ev'n 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.
Heav'n's peace be with him!
That's christian care enough: for living murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
For he would needs be virtuous. That good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

King.
Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. [Exit Gardiner.
The most convenient place that I can think of,
For such receit of learning, is Black-Fryers:
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O my lord,

Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? but, conscience, conscience!—
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt. SCENE V. An Antechamber of the Queen's Apartments. Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

Anne.
Not for that neither—here's the pang, that pinches.
His Highness having 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: oh, 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 sweet at first t'acquire; after this process,
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

Old L.
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.

Anne.
In God's will, better
She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal,
^{4 note}
Yet if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a suff'rance panging
As soul and body's sev'ring.

Old L.
Ah! poor lady,
She's stranger now again.

Anne.
So much the more
Must pity drop upon her; verily,

I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content;
Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

Old L.
Our content
Is our best Having.

Anne.
By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a Queen.

Old L.
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisie;
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.

Anne.
Nay, good troth—

Old L.
Yes, troth and troth: you would not be a Queen?

Anne.
No, not for all the riches under heav'n.

Old L.
'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd 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?

Anne.
No, in truth.

Old 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.

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

Old L.
In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvanshire, though there belong'd
No more to th' Crown but that. Lo, who comes here? Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham.
Good morrow, ladies; what were't worth to know
The secret of your conf'rence?

Anne.
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Cham.
It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.

Anne.
Now I pray God, amen!

Cham.
You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majesty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pounds a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne.
I do not know
What kind of my obedience I should tender;
^{5 note}

Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his Highness;
Whose health and royalty I pray for.

Cham.
Lady,
I shall not fail t'approve the fair conceit,
The King hath of you.—I've perus'd her well;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, [Aside.
That they have caught the King; and who knows yet,
But from this lady may proceed a Gem,
To lighten all this isle—I'll to the King,
And say, I spoke with you. [Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Anne.
My honour'd lord.

Old 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, oh fate!
(A very fresh fish here; fie, fie upon
This compell'd fortune) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

Anne.
This is strange to me.

Old L.
How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, 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?

Anne.
Come, you are pleasant.

Old L.
With your theme, I could
O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect!
No other Obligation? By 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?

Anne.
Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being,

If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me
To think what follows.
The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence; pray, do not deliver
What here y'ave heard, to her.

Old L.
What do you think me?— [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to Black-Fryers. Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver Wands; next them, two Scribes in the habits of Doctors: after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and St. Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and the Cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver Cross; then a gentleman-usher bare-headed, accompanied with a serjeant at arms, bearing a mace; then two gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two Cardinals; two noblemen with the sword and mace. The King takes place under the cloth of state; the two Cardinals sit under him, as judges. The Queen takes place, some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the Court, in manner of a Consistory: below them, the scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.

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

King.
What's the need?
It hath already publickly been read,
And on all sides th' authority allow'd;
You may then spare that time.

Wol.
Be't so; proceed.

Scribe.
Say, Henry King of England, come into the Court.

Cryer.
Henry King of England, &c.

King.
Here.

Scribe.
Say, Catharine Queen of England,
Come into the Court.

Cryer.
Catharine, Queen of England, &c. [The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks;]

Queen.
Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice;
And to bestow your pity on me; for
I am a most poor Woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indiff'rent, and no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, Sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour giv'n to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
I've 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 count'nance; glad or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd: when was the hour,
I ever contradicted your desire?
Or made it not mine too? 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,
Upward of twenty years; and have been blest
With many children by you. If in the course

And process of this time you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person; in God's name,
Turn me away: and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To th' sharpest kind of justice. Please you, Sir,
The King your father was reputed for
A Prince most prudent, of an 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 ev'ry realm, that did debate this business,
Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore humbly,
Sir, I beseech you, spare me, 'till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel
I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd!

Wol.
You have here, lady,
(And of your choice) these rev'rend fathers, men
Of singular integrity and learning:
Yea, the elect o'th'land, who are assembled
To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless,
That longer you defer the Court, as well
For your own quiet, as to rectifie
What is unsettled in the King.

Cam.
His Grace
Hath spoken well and justly; therefore, Madam,
It's fit this royal Session do proceed;
And that without delay their arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.

Queen.
Lord Cardinal,
To you I speak.

Wol.
Your pleasure, Madam?

Queen.
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—

Queen.
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 th' effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom
O'er-topping woman's power. Madam, you wrong me.
I have no spleen against you, nor injustice
For you, or any; how far I've proceeded,
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the Consistory,
Yea, the whole Consist'ry of Rome. You charge me,
That I have blown this coal; I do deny it.
The King is present; if't 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 lyes to cure me, and the cure is to
Remove these thoughts from you. The which before

His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech
You, gracious Madam, to unthink your speaking;
And to say so no more.

Queen.
My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
T'oppose your cunning. You are meek, and humble-mouth'd;
^{6 note}You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility; but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have by fortune, and his Highness' favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted,
Where Pow'rs 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. [She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Cam.
The Queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt t'accuse it, and
Disdainful to be try'd by't; 'tis not well.
She's going away.

King.
Call her again.

Cryer.
Catharine, Queen of England, come into the Court.

Usher.
Madam, you are call'd back.

Queen.
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 Attendants. SCENE VII.

King.
Go thy ways, Kate;
That man i'th' world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted;
For speaking false in that. Thou art alone,
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out)
The Queen of earthly Queens. She's noble born;
And, like her true nobility, she has
Carried herself tow'rds me.

Wol.
Most gracious Sir,
In humble manner I require your Highness,
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
Of all these ears (for where I'm robb'd and bound,
There must I be unloos'd; ^{7 note}

although not there
Aton'd, and fully satisfy'd;) if I
Did broach this business to your Highness, or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't: or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spake one the least word,
That might be prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person?

King.
My lord Cardinal,
I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,
I free you from't: you are not to be taught,
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are so; but, like the village curs,
Bark when their fellows do. By some of these
The Queen is put in anger; y'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 stirr'd; but oft have hindred
The passages made tow'rds 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 th' inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't.
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By th' bishop of Bayon, then French ambassador;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary: I'th' progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean the bishop) did require a respite;
Wherein he might the King his lord advertise,
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the Dowager,
Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook
The Bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting power; and made to tremble
The region of my breast; which forc'd such way,
That many maz'd considerings did throng,
And prest in with this caution. First, methought,
I stood not in the smile of heav'n, which 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 died 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' th' world) should not
Be gladded in't 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 throe: thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Towards this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present here together; that's to say,
I mean to rectifie my conscience, (which
I then did feel full-sick, and yet not well;)
By all the rev'rend 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.

King.
I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say
How far you satisfy'd me.

Lin.
Please your Highness,
The question did at first so stagger me,
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't,
And consequence of dread; that I committed
The daring'st counsel, which I had, to doubt:
And did intreat your Highness to this course,
Which you are running here.

King.
I then mov'd you,
My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave
To make this present summons: Unsollicited
I left no rev'rend person in this Court,
But by particular consent proceeded
Under your hands and seals. Therefore go on;
For no dislike i' th' world against the person
Of our good Queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alledged reasons drive 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,
(Catharine our Queen) before the primest creature
That's paragon'd i' th' world.

Cam.
So please your Highness,
The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this Court to further day;
Mean while must be an earnest motion
Made to the Queen, to call back her appeal
She intends to his Holiness.

King.
I may perceive,
These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and well-beloved servant Cranmer,
Pr'ythee, return! with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the Court.
I say, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.

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