Scanner’s Notes: What this is and isn’t. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare’s First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo’s and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets  is what I have added. So if you don’t like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer’s habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn’t thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions’ best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best etext possible. My email address for right now are firstname.lastname@example.org and email@example.com. I hope that you enjoy this.
The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight
I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow, Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue Their Money out of hope they may beleeue, May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see Onely a show or two, and so agree,
The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing, Ile vndertake may see away their shilling Richly in two short houres. Onely they
That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play, A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow
In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, Will be deceyu’d. For gentle Hearers, know To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring To make that onely true, we now intend,
Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne, Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see The very Persons of our Noble Story,
As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, And follow’d with the generall throng, and sweat Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: And if you can be merry then, Ile say,
A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.
Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done Since last we saw in France?
Norf. I thanke your Grace:
Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer Of what I saw there
Buck. An vntimely Ague
Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men Met in the vale of Andren
Nor. ‘Twixt Guynes and Arde,
I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung In their Embracement, as they grew together, Which had they,
What foure Thron’d ones could haue weigh’d Such a compounded one?
Buck. All the whole time
I was my Chambers Prisoner
Nor. Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: Men might say Till this time Pompe was single, but now married To one aboue it selfe. Each following day Became the next dayes master, till the last Made former Wonders, it’s. To day the French, All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, Shew’d like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
Not vs’d to toyle, did almost sweat to beare The Pride vpon them, that their very labour Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske Was cry’de incompareable; and th’ ensuing night Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst As presence did present them: Him in eye, Still him in praise, and being present both, ‘Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes (For so they phrase ’em) by their Heralds challeng’d The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie Being now seene, possible enough, got credit That Beuis was beleeu’d
Buc. Oh you go farre
Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu’ry thing, Would by a good Discourser loose some life, Which Actions selfe, was tongue too
Buc. All was Royall,
To the disposing of it nought rebell’d, Order gaue each thing view. The Office did Distinctly his full Function: who did guide, I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes Of this great Sport together?
Nor. As you guesse:
One certes, that promises no Element In such a businesse
Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?
Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke
Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed From his Ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder, That such a Keech can with his very bulke Take vp the Rayes o’th’ beneficiall Sun, And keepe it from the Earth
Nor. Surely Sir,
There’s in him stuffe, that put’s him to these ends: For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace Chalkes Successors their way; nor call’d vpon For high feats done to’th’ Crowne; neither Allied To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like
Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note, The force of his owne merit makes his way A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes A place next to the King
Abur. I cannot tell
What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride Peepe through each part of him: whence ha’s he that, If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, Or ha’s giuen all before, and he begins
A new Hell in himselfe
Buc. Why the Diuell,
Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him (Without the priuity o’th’ King) t’ appoint Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File Of all the Gentry; for the most part such To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
Must fetch him in, he Papers
Abur. I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue By this, so sicken’d their Estates, that neuer They shall abound as formerly
Buc. O many
Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on ’em For this great Iourney. What did this vanity But minister communication of
A most poore issue
Nor. Greeuingly I thinke,
The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes The Cost that did conclude it
Buc. Euery man,
After the hideous storme that follow’d, was A thing Inspir’d, and not consulting, broke Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded The sodaine breach on’t
Nor. Which is budded out,
For France hath flaw’d the League, and hath attach’d Our Merchants goods at Burdeux
Abur. Is it therefore
Th’ Ambassador is silenc’d?
Nor. Marry is’t
Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas’d At a superfluous rate
Buc. Why all this Businesse
Our Reuerend Cardinall carried
Nor. Like it your Grace,
The State takes notice of the priuate difference Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
Together; To consider further, that What his high Hatred would effect, wants not A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature, That he’s Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword Hath a sharpe edge: It’s long, and’t may be saide It reaches farre, and where ’twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell, You’l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock That I aduice your shunning.
Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of the Guard,
and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, fixeth his
eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdaine.
Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? Where’s his Examination?
Secr. Heere so please you
Car. Is he in person, ready?
Secr. I, please your Grace
Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this bigge looke.
Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.
Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom’d-mouth’d, and I Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke, Out-worths a Nobles blood
Nor. What are you chaff’d?
Aske God for Temp’rance, that’s th’ appliance onely Which your disease requires
Buc. I read in’s looks
Matter against me, and his eye reuil’d Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant He bores me with some tricke; He’s gone to’th’ King: Ile follow, and out-stare him
Nor. Stay my Lord,
And let your Reason with your Choller question What ’tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot Horse, who being allow’d his way Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, As you would to your Friend
Buc. Ile to the King,
And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime, There’s difference in no persons
Norf. Be aduis’d;
Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne By violent swiftnesse that which we run at; And lose by ouer-running: know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor til’t run ore, In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis’d; I say againe there is no English Soule
More stronger to direct you then your selfe; If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay the fire of passion
I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions, by Intelligence,
And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know To be corrupt and treasonous
Norf. Say not treasonous
Buck. To th’ King Ile say’t, & make my vouch as strong As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau’nous As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, As able to perform’t) his minde, and place Infecting one another, yea reciprocally, Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, As here at home, suggests the King our Master To this last costly Treaty: Th’ enteruiew, That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse Did breake ith’ wrenching
Norf. Faith, and so it did
Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall The Articles o’th’ Combination drew
As himselfe pleas’d; and they were ratified As he cride thus let be, to as much end, As giue a Crutch to th’ dead. But our Count-Cardinall Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes, (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie To th’ old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour, Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt, (For twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, His feares were that the Interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed him some preiudice; for from this League, Peep’d harmes that menac’d him. Priuily
Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour Paid ere he promis’d, whereby his Suit was granted Ere it was ask’d. But when the way was made And pau’d with gold: the Emperor thus desir’d, That he would please to alter the Kings course, And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, And for his owne aduantage
Norf. I am sorry
To heare this of him; and could wish he were Somthing mistaken in’t
Buck. No, not a sillable:
I doe pronounce him in that very shape He shall appeare in proofe.
Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three of the
Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it
My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name Of our most Soueraigne King
Buck. Lo you my Lord,
The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish Vnder deuice, and practise
Bran. I am sorry,
To see you tane from liberty, to looke on The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure You shall to th’ Tower
Buck. It will helpe me nothing
To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit’st part, black. The will of Heau’n Be done in this and all things: I obey.
O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well
Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King Is pleas’d you shall to th’ Tower, till you know How he determines further
Abur. As the Duke said,
The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obey’d
Bran. Here is a warrant from
The King, t’ attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car,
One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour
Buck. So, so;
These are the limbs o’th’ Plot: no more I hope
Bra. A Monke o’th’ Chartreux
Buck. O Michaell Hopkins?
Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall Hath shew’d him gold; my life is spand already: I am the shadow of poore Buckingham,
Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.
Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the Nobles,
and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the Kings feete
on his right side.
King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, Thankes you for this great care: I stood i’th’ leuell Of a full-charg’d confederacie, and giue thankes To you that choak’d it. Let be cald before vs That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, Ile heare him his confessions iustifie,
And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, He shall againe relate.
A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher’d by the Duke of
Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. King riseth
from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.
Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor
King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power: The other moity ere you aske is giuen,
Repeat your will, and take it
Queen. Thanke your Maiesty
That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor
The dignity of your Office; is the poynt Of my Petition
Kin. Lady mine proceed
Queen. I am solicited not by a few, And those of true condition; That your Subiects Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions Sent downe among ’em, which hath flaw’d the heart Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches Most bitterly on you, as putter on
Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares In lowd Rebellion
Norf. Not almost appeares,
It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, The Clothiers all not able to maintaine
The many to them longing, haue put off The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger
And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner Daring th’ euent too th’ teeth, are all in vprore, And danger serues among them
Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, You that are blam’d for it alike with vs, Know you of this Taxation?
Card. Please you Sir,
I know but of a single part in ought Pertaines to th’ State; and front but in that File Where others tell steps with me
Queen. No, my Lord?
You know no more then others? But you frame Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are Most pestilent to th’ hearing, and to beare ’em, The Backe is Sacrifice to th’ load; They say They are deuis’d by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation
Kin. Still Exaction:
The nature of it, in what kinde let’s know, Is this Exaction?
Queen. I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience, but am boldned Vnder your promis’d pardon. The Subiects griefe Comes through Commissions, which compels from each The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is nam’d, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegeance in them; their curses now
Liue where their prayers did: and it’s come to passe, This tractable obedience is a Slaue
To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse Would giue it quicke consideration; for
There is no primer basenesse
Kin. By my life,
This is against our pleasure
Card. And for me,
I haue no further gone in this, then by A single voice, and that not past me, but By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am Traduc’d by ignorant Tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be
The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say, ‘Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the feare
To cope malicious Censurers, which euer, As rau’nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow
That is new trim’d; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best, By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is Not ours, or not allow’d; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp
For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In feare our motion will be mock’d, or carp’d at, We should take roote here, where we sit; Or sit State-Statues onely
Kin. Things done well,
And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear’d. Haue you a President
Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any. We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each? A trembling Contribution; why we take
From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o’th’ Timber: And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt, The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County Where this is question’d, send our Letters, with Free pardon to each man that has deny’de The force of this Commission: pray looke too’t; I put it to your care
Card. A word with you.
Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois’d, That through our Intercession, this Reuokement And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you Further in the proceeding.
Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure
Kin. It grieues many:
The Gentleman is Learn’d, and a most rare Speaker, To Nature none more bound; his trayning such, That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers, And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, When these so Noble benefits shall proue Not well dispos’d, the minde growing once corrupt, They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat, Who was enrold ‘mongst wonders; and when we Almost with rauish’d listning, could not finde His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady) Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces That once were his, and is become as blacke, As if besmear’d in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited practises, whereof
We cannot feele too little, heare too much
Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham
Kin. Speake freely
Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day It would infect his Speech: That if the King Should without issue dye; hee’l carry it so To make the Scepter his. These very words I’ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law, Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac’d Reuenge vpon the Cardinall
Card. Please your Highnesse note
This dangerous conception in this point, Not frended by his wish to your High person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends
Queen. My learn’d Lord Cardinall,
Deliuer all with Charity
Kin. Speake on;
How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, At any time speake ought?
Sur. He was brought to this,
By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton
Kin. What was that Henton?
Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer,
His Confessor, who fed him euery minute With words of Soueraignty
Kin. How know’st thou this?
Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners, Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, Men feare the French would proue perfidious To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke Said, ’twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted ‘Twould proue the verity of certaine words Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre To heare from him a matter of some moment: Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale,
He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but
To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, This pausingly ensu’de; neither the King, nor’s Heyres (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue To the loue o’th’ Commonalty, the Duke
Shall gouerne England
Queen. If I know you well,
You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office On the complaint o’th’ Tenants; take good heed You charge not in your spleene a Noble person, And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you
Kin. Let him on: Goe forward
Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth. I told my Lord the Duke, by th’ Diuels illusions The Monke might be deceiu’d, and that ’twas dangerous For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill It forg’d him some designe, which being beleeu’d It was much like to doe: He answer’d, Tush, It can do me no damage; adding further,
That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads Should haue gone off
Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha,
There’s mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further? Sur. I can my Liedge
Sur. Being at Greenwich,
After your Highnesse had reprou’d the Duke About Sir William Blumer
Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant, The Duke retein’d him his. But on: what hence? Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed, As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid The Part my Father meant to act vpon
Th’ Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, Made suit to come in’s presence; which if granted, (As he made semblance of his duty) would Haue put his knife into him
Kin. A Gyant Traytor
Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, And this man out of Prison
Queen. God mend all
Kin. Ther’s somthing more would out of thee; what say’st? Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife He stretch’d him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on’s breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor Was, were he euill vs’d, he would outgoe His Father, by as much as a performance
Do’s an irresolute purpose
Kin. There’s his period,
To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach’d, Call him to present tryall: if he may
Finde mercy in the Law, ’tis his; if none, Let him not seek’t of vs: By day and night Hee’s Traytor to th’ height.
L.Ch. Is’t possible the spels of France should iuggle Men into such strange mysteries?
L.San. New customes,
Though they be neuer so ridiculous, (Nay let ’em be vnmanly) yet are follow’d
L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely A fit or two o’th’ face, (but they are shrewd ones) For when they hold ’em, you would sweare directly Their very noses had been Councellours
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so
L.San. They haue all new legs,
And lame ones; one would take it,
That neuer see ’em pace before, the Spauen A Spring-halt rain’d among ’em
L.Ch. Death my Lord,
Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too’t, That sure th’haue worne out Christendome: how now? What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?
Enter Sir Thomas Louell.
Louell. Faith my Lord,
I heare of none but the new Proclamation, That’s clapt vpon the Court Gate
L.Cham. What is’t for?
Lou. The reformation of our trauel’d Gallants, That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors
L.Cham. I’m glad ’tis there;
Now I would pray our Monsieurs
To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, And neuer see the Louure
Lou. They must either
(For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes, Abusing better men then they can be
Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings, Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell; And vnderstand againe like honest men,
Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away
The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh’d at
L.San. Tis time to giue ’em Physicke, their diseases Are growne so catching
L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies
Will haue of these trim vanities?
Louell. I marry,
There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies. A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha’s no Fellow
L.San. The Diuell fiddle ’em,
I am glad they are going,
For sure there’s no conuerting of ’em: now An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, And haue an houre of hearing, and by’r Lady Held currant Musicke too
L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands,
Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?
L.San. No my Lord,
Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe
L.Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?
Lou. To the Cardinals;
Your Lordship is a guest too
L.Cham. O, ’tis true;
This night he makes a Supper, and a great one, To many Lords and Ladies; there will be
The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you
Lou. That Churchman
Beares a bounteous minde indeed,
A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, His dewes fall euery where
L.Cham. No doubt hee’s Noble;
He had a blacke mouth that said other of him
L.San. He may my Lord,
Ha’s wherewithall in him;
Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, Men of his way, should be most liberall, They are set heere for examples
L.Cham. True, they are so;
But few now giue so great ones:
My Barge stayes;
Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else, which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford This night to be Comptrollers
L.San. I am your Lordships.
Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer Table for
the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, & Gentlemen,
as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry Guilford.
A generall welcome from his Grace
Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.
Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.
O my Lord, y’are tardy;
The very thought of this faire Company, Clapt wings to me
Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford
San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, I thinke would better please ’em: by my life, They are a sweet society of faire ones
Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, To one or two of these
San. I would I were,
They should finde easie pennance
Lou. Faith how easie?
San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it
Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this: His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze, Two women plac’d together, makes cold weather: My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe ’em waking: Pray sit betweene these Ladies
San. By my faith,
And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me: I had it from my Father
An.Bul. Was he mad Sir?
San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too; But he would bite none, iust as I doe now, He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath
Cham. Well said my Lord:
So now y’are fairely seated: Gentlemen, The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies Passe away frowning
San. For my little Cure,
Let me alone.
Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.
Card. Y’are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady Or Gentleman that is not freely merry
Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, And to you all good health
San. Your Grace is Noble,
Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, And saue me so much talking
Card. My Lord Sands,
I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
San. The red wine first must rise
In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue ’em, Talke vs to silence
An.B. You are a merry Gamster
My Lord Sands
San. Yes, if I make my play:
Heer’s to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: For tis to such a thing
An.B. You cannot shew me.
Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.
San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon
Card. What’s that?
Cham. Looke out there, some of ye
Card. What warlike voyce,
And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; By all the lawes of Warre y’are priuiledg’d. Enter a Seruant.
Cham. How now, what is’t?
Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers, For so they seeme; th’ haue left their Barge and landed, And hither make, as great Embassadors
From forraigne Princes
Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,
Go, giue ’em welcome; you can speake the French tongue And pray receiue ’em Nobly, and conduct ’em Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.
All rise, and Tables remou’d.
You haue now a broken Banket, but wee’l mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.
Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepheards,
vsher’d by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the Cardinall
and gracefully salute him.
A noble Company: what are their pleasures? Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame Of this so Noble and so faire assembly,
This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty) But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat An houre of Reuels with ’em
Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,
They haue done my poore house grace: For which I pay ’em a thousand thankes,
And pray ’em take their pleasures.
Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.
King. The fairest hand I euer touch’d: O Beauty, Till now I neuer knew thee.
Card. My Lord
Cham. Your Grace
Card. Pray tell ’em thus much from me: There should be one amongst ’em by his person More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom (If I but knew him) with my loue and duty I would surrender it.
Cham. I will my Lord
Card. What say they?
Cham. Such a one, they all confesse There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace Find out, and he will take it
Card. Let me see then,
By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make My royall choyce
Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall,
You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall, I should iudge now vnhappily
Card. I am glad
Your Grace is growne so pleasant
Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,
Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie’s that? Cham. An’t please your Grace,
Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, One of her Highnesse women
Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, I were vnmannerly to take you out,
And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, Let it goe round
Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready I’th’ Priuy Chamber?
Lou. Yes, my Lord
Card. Your Grace
I feare, with dancing is a little heated
Kin. I feare too much
Card. There’s fresher ayre my Lord, In the next Chamber
Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu’ry one: Sweet Partner, I must not yet forsake you: Let’s be merry, Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths, To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure To lead ’em once againe, and then let’s dreame Who’s best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.
Exeunt. with Trumpets.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.
1. Whether away so fast?
2. O, God saue ye:
Eu’n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham
1. Ile saue you
That labour Sir. All’s now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the Prisoner
2. Were you there ?
1. Yes indeed was I
2. Pray speake what ha’s happen’d
1. You may guesse quickly what
2. Is he found guilty?
1. Yes truely is he,
And condemn’d vpon’t
2. I am sorry fort
1. So are a number more
2. But pray how past it?
1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law.
The Kings Atturney on the contrary, Vrg’d on the Examinations, proofes, confessions Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir’d To him brought viua voce to his face;
At which appear’d against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, Hopkins, that made this mischiefe
2. That was hee
That fed him with his Prophecies
1. The same,
All these accus’d him strongly, which he faine Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not; And so his Peeres vpon this euidence,
Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all Was either pittied in him, or forgotten
2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe? 1. When he was brought agen to th’ Bar, to heare His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir’d With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly,
And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly, In all the rest shew’d a most Noble patience
2. I doe not thinke he feares death
1. Sure he does not,
He neuer was so womanish, the cause He may a little grieue at
The Cardinall is the end of this
1. Tis likely,
By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou’d
Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, Least he should helpe his Father
2. That tricke of State
Was a deepe enuious one,
1. At his returne,
No doubt he will requite it; this is noted (And generally) who euer the King fauours, The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, And farre enough from Court too
2. All the Commons
Hate him perniciously, and o’ my Conscience Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham, The Mirror of all courtesie.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, the Axe with
the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas
Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.
1. Stay there Sir,
And see the noble ruin’d man you speake of
2. Let’s stand close and behold him
Buck. All good people,
You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me. I haue this day receiu’d a Traitors iudgement, And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me, Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull. The Law I beare no mallice for my death, T’has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue ’em; Yet let ’em looke they glory not in mischiefe; Nor build their euils on the graues of great men; For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against ’em. For further life in this world I ne’re hope, Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies More then I dare make faults.
You few that lou’d me,
And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue Is only bitter to him, only dying:
Goe with me like good Angels to my end, And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice, And lift my Soule to Heauen.
Lead on a Gods name
Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity If euer any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly
Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all.
There cannot be those numberlesse offences Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue.
Commend mee to his Grace:
And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares; Euer belou’d and louing, may his Rule be; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument
Lou. To th’ water side I must conduct your Grace; Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who vndertakes you to your end
Vaux. Prepare there,
The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suites The Greatnesse of his Person
Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun; Yet I am richer then my base Accusers,
That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; And with that bloud will make ’em one day groane for’t. My noble Father Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais’d head against Vsurping Richard, Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister, Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince Restor’d me to my Honours: and out of ruines Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne, Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all That made me happy; at one stroake ha’s taken For euer from the World. I had my Tryall, And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me A little happier then my wretched Father: Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou’d most: A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. Heauen ha’s an end in all: yet, you that heare me, This from a dying man receiue as certaine: Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends, And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, neuer found againe
But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre Of my long weary life is come vpon me:
Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, Speake how I fell.
I haue done; and God forgiue me.
Exeunt. Duke and Traine.
1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals I feare, too many curses on their heads
That were the Authors
2. If the Duke be guiltlesse,
‘Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling Of an ensuing euill, if it fall,
Greater then this
1. Good Angels keepe it from vs:
What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir? 2. This Secret is so weighty, ’twill require A strong faith to conceale it
1. Let me haue it:
I doe not talke much
2. I am confident;
You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare A buzzing of a Separation
Betweene the King and Katherine?
1. Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues That durst disperse it
2. But that slander Sir,
Is found a truth now: for it growes agen Fresher then e’re it was; and held for certaine The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall, Or some about him neere, haue out of malice To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple That will vndoe her: To confirme this too, Cardinall Campeius is arriu’d, and lately, As all thinke for this busines
1. Tis the Cardinall;
And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, For not bestowing on him at his asking,
The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos’d
2. I thinke
You haue hit the marke; but is’t not cruell, That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall Will haue his will, and she must fall
1. ‘Tis wofull.
Wee are too open heere to argue this: Let’s thinke in priuate more.
Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this 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 Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke ’em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru’d before a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop’d our mouthes Sir.
I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee will haue all I thinke.
Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke.
Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine
Cham. Good day to both your Graces
Suff. How is the King imployd?
Cham. I left him priuate,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles
Norf. What’s the cause?
Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife Ha’s crept too neere his Conscience
Suff. No, his Conscience
Ha’s crept too neere another Ladie
Norf. Tis so;
This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall, That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day
Suff. Pray God he doe,
Hee’l neuer know himselfe else
Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse, And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew) He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage. And out of all these, to restore the King, He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her
That like a Iewell, ha’s hung twenty yeares About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre; Of her that loues him with that excellence, That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her, That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious? Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks ’em, And euery true heart weepes for’t. All that dare Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon This bold bad man
Suff. And free vs from his slauery
Norf. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliuerance;
Or this imperious man will worke vs all From Princes into Pages: all mens honours Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion’d Into what pitch he please
Suff. For me, my Lords,
I loue him not, nor feare him, there’s my Creede: As I am made without him, so Ile stand,
If the King please: his Curses and his blessings Touch me alike: th’are breath I not beleeue in. I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him To him that made him proud; the Pope
Norf. Let’s in;
And with some other busines, put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him: My Lord, youle beare vs company?
Cham. Excuse me,
The King ha’s sent me otherwhere: Besides You’l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him: Health to your Lordships
Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine. Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading
Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted
Kin. Who’s there? Ha?
Norff. Pray God he be not angry
Kin. Who’s there I say? How dare you thrust your selues Into my priuate Meditations?
Who am I? Ha?
Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences Malice ne’re meant: Our breach of Duty this way, Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come To know your Royall pleasure
Kin. Ye are too bold:
Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha? Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.
Who’s there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded Conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a King; you’r welcome Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome, Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, I be not found a Talker
Wol. Sir, you cannot;
I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference
Kin. We are busie; goe
Norff. This Priest ha’s no pride in him? Suff. Not to speake of:
I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue
Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him
Suff. I another.
Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.
Wol. Your Grace ha’s giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome: Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent
One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse
Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish’d for
Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn’d with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse
Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner? Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha’s alwayes lou’d her So deare in heart, not to deny her that
A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow’d freely to argue for her
Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. I find him a fit fellow.
Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; You are the Kings now
Gard. But to be commanded
For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha’s rais’d me
Kin. Come hither Gardiner.
Walkes and whispers.
Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace In this mans place before him?
Wol. Yes, he was
Camp. Was he not held a learned man? Wol. Yes surely
Camp. Beleeue me, there’s an ill opinion spread then, Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall
Wol. How? of me?
Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu’d him, That he ran mad, and dide
Wol. Heau’ns peace be with him:
That’s Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There’s places of rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be grip’d by meaner persons
Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th’ Queene.
The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty busines. My Wolsey, see it furnish’d, O my Lord,
Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O ’tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
An. Not for that neither; here’s the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liu’d so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,
Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then ‘Tis sweet at first t’ acquire. After this Processe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty
Would moue a Monster
Old La. Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her
An. Oh Gods will, much better
She ne’re had knowne pompe; though’t be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance, panging As soule and bodies seuering
Old L. Alas poore Lady,
Shee’s a stranger now againe
An. So much the more
Must pitty drop vpon her; verily
I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk’d vp in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow
Old L. Our content
Is our best hauing
Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
I would not be a Queene
Old.L. Beshrew me, I would,
And venture Maidenhead for’t, and so would you For all this spice of your Hipocrisie:
You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;
Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please to stretch it
Anne. Nay, good troth
Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen? Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen
Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow’d would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs To beare that load of Title?
An. No in truth
Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy
An. How you doe talke;
I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world
Old.L. In faith, for little England You’ld venture an emballing: I my selfe
Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long’d No more to th’ Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here? Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer’t worth to know The secret of your conference?
An. My good Lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying
Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope
All will be well
An. Now I pray God, Amen
Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau’nly blessings Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe’s purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes
An. I doe not know
What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can returne. ‘Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for
I shall not faile t’ approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus’d her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I’le to the King, And say I spoke with you.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine.
An. My honour’d Lord
Old.L. Why this it is: See, see,
I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel’d fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it
An. This is strange to me
Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it? An. Come you are pleasant
Old.L. With your Theame, I could
O’re-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life,
That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were?
An. Good Lady,
Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on’t. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To thinke what followes.
The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y’haue heard to her
Old L. What doe you thinke me –
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short siluer
wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the
Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely,
Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance,
followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a
Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then a
Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing
a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After
them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword and
Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls
sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the
King. The Bishops place themselues 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 conuenient order about the Stage.
Car. Whil’st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded
King. What’s the need?
It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th’ Authority allow’d,
You may then spare that time
Car. Bee’t so, proceed
Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court
Crier. Henry King of England, &c
Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court
Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.
The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the
Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.
Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on me; for
I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what haue I offended you? What cause
Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to your will conformable:
Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin’d? When was the houre I euer contradicted your Desire?
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, That had to him deriu’d your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice
He was from thence discharg’d? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name Turne me away: and let the fowl’st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp
To the sharp’st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your Father, was reputed for
A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent And vnmatch’d Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon’d one The wisest Prince, that there had reign’d, by many A yeare before. It is not to be question’d, That they had gather’d a wise Councell to them Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, Who deem’d our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis’d; whose Counsaile I will implore. If not, i’th’ name of God Your pleasure be fulfill’d
Wol. You haue heere Lady,
(And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning;
Yea, the elect o’th’ Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
What is vnsetled in the King
Camp. His Grace
Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It’s fit this Royall Session do proceed, And that (without delay) their Arguments Be now produc’d, and heard
Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake
Wol. Your pleasure, Madam
Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or long haue dream’d so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire
Wol. Be patient yet
Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me. I do beleeue
(Induc’d by potent Circumstances) that You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule
Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth
Wol. I do professe
You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th’ effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome,
Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistorie,
Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much
As you haue done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knowes I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to
Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, And to say so no more
Queen. My Lord, My Lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weake T’ oppose your cunning. Y’are meek, & humble-mouth’d You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart Is cramm’d with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o’re lowe steppes, and now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as’t please Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor, then Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere
Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, To bring my whole Cause ‘fore his Holinesse, And to be iudg’d by him.
She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.
Camp. The Queene is obstinate,
Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride by’t; tis not well. Shee’s going away
Kin. Call her againe
Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court
Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe
Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more
Vpon this businesse my appearance make, In any of their Courts.
Exit Queene, and her Attendants.
Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,
That man i’th’ world, who shall report he ha’s A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee’s Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha’s
Carried her selfe towards me
Wol. Most gracious Sir,
In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these eares (for where I am rob’d and bound, There must I be vnloos’d, although not there At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question on’t: or euer Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person?
Kin. My Lord Cardinall,
I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, I free you from’t: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies, that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y’are excus’d: But will you be more iustifi’de? You euer Haue wish’d the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir’d It to be stir’d; but oft haue hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him.
Now, what mou’d me too’t,
I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th’ inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too’t: My Conscience first receiu’d a tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter’d By th’ Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on the debating And Marriage ‘twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter Mary: I’th’ Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution, hee
(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter’d me; Yea, with a spitting 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, me thought I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
If it conceiu’d a male-child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life too’t; then
The Graue does to th’ dead: For her Male Issue, Or di’de where they were made, or shortly after This world had ayr’d them. Hence I tooke a thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome (Well worthy the best Heyre o’th’ World) should not Be gladded in’t by me. Then followes, that I weigh’d the danger which my Realmes stood in By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present heere together: that’s to say, I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, And Doctors learn’d. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke
When I first mou’d you
B.Lin. Very well my Liedge
Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas’d your selfe to say How farre you satisfide me
Lin. So please your Highnes,
The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a State of mighty moment in’t,
And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you are running heere
Kin. I then mou’d you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; But by particular consent proceeded
Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i’th’ world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life
And Kingly Dignity, we are contented
To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature That’s Parragon’d o’th’ World
Camp. So please your Highnes,
The Queene being absent, ’tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion
Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his Holinesse
Kin. I may perceiue
These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. My learn’d and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer,