Old L.

In faith, for little England

You'd venture 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.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to know

The secret of your conference?

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.

Cham. You hear a gentle mind, and heavenly 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 of you to you, and
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.

Anne.
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.

Cham.

Lady,

This is strange to me.

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. There was a lady once, ('t is 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!

* Pluck off a little-descend a little: You refuse to be a queen, a duchess, try a count.

SCENE IV.—A Hall in Blackfriars. Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, Two Scribes, in the habits of doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows 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, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a silver mace; then Two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the Two CARDINALS WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; Two Noblemen with the sword and mace. [Then enter the KING and QUEEN, and their Trains.] The KING takes place under the cloth of state; the Two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place at 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 Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.

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

Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come into the court.

Crier. Katharine 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.

Q. Kath. 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 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,
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 to 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 the 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 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 of the land, who are assembled

To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless, That longer you desire the court; as well

For your own quiet, as to rectify

What is unsettled in the king.

Wol.

Be patient yet.

Q. Kath. 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'ertopping woman's power. Malare, you do me

For you, or any: how far I have proceeded,
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the consistory,

Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. Yon 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 falsehood? yea, as much
As you have done my truth. 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 no more.

Q. Kath.

My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and humble-
mouth'd;

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 powers are your retainers: and your words,
Domestics 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 to accuse it, and

Disdainful to be tried by it; 't is not well.

She's going away.

K. Hen. Call her again.

Crier. Katharine queen of England, come into the

K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate: That man i' the 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 is noble born And, like her true nobility, she has Carried 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 robb'd and bound, There must I be unloos'd; although not there At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever 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 suco A royal lady,-spake one the least word that might

Be to the prejudice of ner present state, Or touch of her good person?

K. Hen.

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 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 justified? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
Desir'd it to be stirr'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, '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,
Sometimes 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 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 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

I then mov'd you,

K. Hen.
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, 't is a needful fitness,
That we adjourn this court till further day:
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart.
K. Hen.
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,
Prithee, return! with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the court :
say, set on.

[Aside.

[Exeunt in manner as they entered.

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.

Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,

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 you. 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 konw 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.
Weigh out--outweigh.

a

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

comfort!

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
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scom'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 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 you have any justice, any pity;

If ye be anything 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.

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 't is 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.

Pray, hear me.

Wol.
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
Shipwrack'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.