Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

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 the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,
Who had been hither sent, on the debating
A marriage '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 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 bottom 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 press 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 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' the 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
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

[blocks in formation]

K. Hen. I have spoke long: be pleas'd yourself to say How far you satisfied me.

Lin.

So 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 entreat your highness to this course, Which you are running here. K. Hen. 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 the good queen, but the sharp thorny points Of my alleged 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, Katharine 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 farther day : Meanwhile must be an earnest motion Made to the queen, to call back her appeal She intends unto his holiness.

K. Hen. I may perceive, [Aside. 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. [Aloud.]-Break up the

I

court:

say, set on.

[blocks in formation]

[Exeunt, in manner as they entered.

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

Q. Kath.

Would they speak with me? Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.

Q. Kath.

Pray their graces With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour? To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their business I do not like their coming, now I think on't. They should be good men, their affairs as righteous; But all hoods make not monks.

Wol.

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.

Peace to your highness. Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a house

wife;

I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.

Q. Kath.

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 tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, Envy and base opinion set against them,

I know my life so even. If your business

Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,

Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.

[blocks in formation]

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both,-my ruin. Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!

Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina sere- Heaven is above all yet: there sits a Judge

nissima,

Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin:

I am not such a truant since my coming,

As not to know the language I have liv'd in:

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.

Wol.

Noble lady,
I am sorry, 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 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.

[Aside.

Q. Kath. To betray me. 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 fit of my greatness, good your graces, Let me have time and counsel for my cause. Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.

Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears:

Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q. Kath. In England, But little for my profit: can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel? Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, (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. Q. Kath. How, sir? Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection;

That no king can corrupt. Cam.

Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye! holy men I thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye.
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com-

fort?

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish ye half my miseries,

ye:

I have more charity; but say, I warn'd
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If ye have any justice, any pity,

If ye 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. What can happen
To me above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.
Your fears are worse.

Cam.

Q. Kath. 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.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, To give up willingly that noble title

Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol.

Pray, hear me.

Q. Kath. Would I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!

Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched lady?

I am the most unhappy woman living.—
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!
[To her Women.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me,
Almost no grave allow'd me.-Like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.
Wol.
If your grace

Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,
You'd feel more comfort. 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 sorrows, not to sow them.
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.
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.

[blocks in formation]

Suf. May you be happy in

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, For, I profess, you have it. 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:

Sur.
Trace the conjunction!

Suf.
Nor.

Would he had! your wish, my lord;

Now may all joy

My amen to't.

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 complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall

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.-Ante-chamber to the King's Apartment.
Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, the Duke of SUFFOLK, the Digest this letter of the cardinal's?
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 peers
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham.

My lords, you speak your pleasures.
What he deserves of and
you me, I know;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him, for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in's 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 settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.

Sur.

Sir,

I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.

Believe it, this is true.

Nor.
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears,

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Wol. Leave me awhile.-
It shall be to the duchess of Alençon,
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.

Does whet his anger to him.
Sur.

Lord! for thy justice.

May be, he hears the king

Sharp enough,

Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman, a knight's
daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!—
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes.-What though I know her virtuous,
And well deserving, yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Nor.

[Retires, musing.
He is vex'd at something.
Suf. I would, 'twere something that would fret the
string,

The master-chord on's heart!

Enter the King, reading a Schedule; and LovELL.
Suf.
The king, the king!
K. Hen. What piles of wealth 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 [Coming forward.
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 anon he casts
His eye against the moon. In most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen.
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 household; 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.

K. Hen.
If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings; but, I am afraid,

Wol.

[He takes his seat, and whispers LOVELL, who
goes to WOLSEY.

Heaven forgive me! [Amazedly.
Ever God bless your highness.

K. Hen.

Good my lord,

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

Wol.

For holy offices I have a time; a time
Sir,
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.
K. Hen.
You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!

K. Hen.

'Tis well said again;
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you;
He said he did, and with his deed did crown
His word upon you: since I had my office,

I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

Wol.

What should this mean? [Aside.
Sur. The Lord increase this business!
K. Hen.
[Behind.

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

What say you?
Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces,
Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could
My studied purposes requite; 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 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 heaven for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.

K. Hen.

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 dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more
you than any; so your hand, and heart,

On

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 them, and
Appear in forms more horrid) yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

K. Hen.
"Tis nobly spoken.
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this:
[Giving him Papers.
And, after, this; and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.
[Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal WOLSEY: 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:

[Opens the Paper and reads, trembling.
This paper has undone me !-'Tis th' account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!
Fit for a fool to fall by. What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet

I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?

I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune

Sur. The king that gave it.
Wol.

It must be himself, then.

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol.

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

Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
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,
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 in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur.

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?

Will bring me off again. What's this?-"To the And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,

Pope?"

The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness,
And from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
[Sinks in a chair.
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 Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear farther from his highness.
Wol.
Stay: [Rising.
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Suf.
Who dare cross them,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,
(I mean your malice) know, officious lords,

I dare, and must deny it. Now, I feel

Of what coarse metal ye are moulded,—envy ;
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye; and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin.
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;

You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king,

To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.

[blocks in formation]

All goodness

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 good-

[blocks in formation]

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,

(Mine, and your master) with his own hand gave me; You'll show a little honesty.

Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life, and to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patent. Now, who'll take it?

Wol.

Speak

on, sir;

I dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is to see a nobleman want manners.

« ПредишнаНапред »