The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

you,

For all this spice of your hypocrisy :

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.

Old L. Yes, troth, and troth,-You would not be
a queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old L. Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd' would hire me,

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.
Anne.

My honour'd lord.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain.
Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!.

I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
Nay, good troth,-Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds: and you, (0 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,

Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? 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 burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne.

How you do 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 Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes
here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

That promises more thousands: Honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a duchess;-Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
Good lady,

Anne.

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

Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What were't worth What here you have heard, to her.

to know

Old L.

What do you think me? [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A Hall in Black-Friars. 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 Serjeant 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 (6) Opinion. (7) Flourish on cornets. 78) Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals.

distance from the King. The Bishops place (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men themselves on each side the court, in manner of Of singular integrity and learning,

a consistory; between 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.

K. Hen.

What's the need? It hath already publicly been read, And on all sides the authority allow'd: You may then spare that time." Wol. Scribe. Say, Henry, king of England, come into

the court.

Be't so:-Proceed.

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 goodgrace 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
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!
Wo.

(1) Useless.

You have here, lady,

(2) Deny,

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.
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.

Q. Kath.
To you I speak.
Wol.

Q. Kath.

Lord cardinal,

Your pleasure, madam?

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.

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'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,
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 gainsay2 my deed, how may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood? 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 no more.

Q. Kath.

My lord, my lord,

I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and hum-
ble-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
I 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,

(3) Appearance,

To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
And to be judg'd by him.

[She court'sies to the King, and offers to depart.
Cam.
The queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be try'd by it; 'tis not well.
She's going away.

K. Hen.

Call her again.

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 press'd in with this caution. First, methought,

Crier. Katharine, queen of England, come into I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had

the court.

Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.

Q. Kath. 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.

[Exe. Queen, Grif. and her other attendants.
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 such
A royal lady,-spake one the least word, might
Be the prejudice of her 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 made3 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 received 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

Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
If not 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 where 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
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.
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 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, [Aside.
busi-These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and well-belov'd servant, Cranmer,
Pr'ythee, return!" with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
say, set on. [Exe. in manner as they entered.

(5) Waste, or wear away.

(6) Without compare.

(7) An apostrophe to the absent bishop.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Palace at Bridewell.

Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord car.

dinal,

A room in The willing'st sin I ever yet committed,
May be absolv'd in English.
Wol.

the Queen's apartment. The Queen, and some of her Women, at work.

Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;

Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the moutain-tops, that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing
To his music, plants, and flowers,
Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,
There had been a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art;
Killing care, and grief of heart,
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

Enter a Gentleman.

Q. Kath. How now?

Noble lady,

(And service to his majesty and you,)
am sorry, my integrity should breed
We come not by the way of accusation,
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.

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.

Q. Kath.

To betray me. [Aside.
My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so !)
But how to make you suddenly an answer,

Gent. An't please your grace, the two great car-In such a point of weight, so near mine honour dinals

Wait in the presence.1
Q. Kath.
Would they speak with me?
Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
Q. Kath.
Pray their graces
To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their

business

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour?
I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
They should be good men: their affairs are right-

eous:

But all hoods make not monks.

Wol.

Enter Wolsey and Campeius.

Peace to your highness! Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of housewife;

(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,
with-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?

I would by all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to
draw

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; (2) Professions.

(1) Presence-chamber.

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish you 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: Wo upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you 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.

Cam.

Your fears are worse. 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 vainglory,)
Never yet branded with suspicion?

Have I with all my full affections

Still met the king? lov'd him next heav'n? 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

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.

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray, forgive me,

If I have us d2 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.

ment.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Ante-chamber to the King's apart Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of 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. Suff 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 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
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 settled,
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 could wish mine enemy.
Sur.

His practices to light?
Suff

Sur.

How came Most strangely.

O, how, how?
Suff. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,
And came 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
My king is tangled in affection to

Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser- A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen.

vants.

(1) Served him with superstitious attention.

Sur. Has the king this?

(2) Behaved,

(8) Enforces,

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Volume 2