Front matter

Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:

Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

* * * * *

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .

* * * * *

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.

David Reed

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The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight

THE PROLOGVE.

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

Buck. Sir, 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 Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it

Sergeant. Sir, 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? Bra. He

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.

Exe.

Scena Secunda.

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

Kin. Taxation? 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.

Exit Secret[ary].

Enter Surueyor.

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

Kin. Proceed

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.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

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.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

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.

S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes, 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.

Musicke, Dance.

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.

Whisper.

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

2. Certainly, 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.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

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 pensiuely.

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. Enter Gardiner.

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.

Exit Gardiner.

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.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

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

Cham. Lady; 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 -

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

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

King. Heere

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, Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; I say, set on.

Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.

Queen. Take thy Lute wench, My Soule growes sad with troubles, Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his Lute made Trees, And the Mountaine tops that freeze, Bow themselues when he did sing. To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers, There had made a lasting Spring. Euery thing that heard him play, Euen the Billowes of the Sea, Hung their heads, & then lay by. In sweet Musicke is such Art, Killing care, & griefe of heart, Fall asleepe, or hearing dye. Enter a Gentleman.

Queen. How now? Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the presence

Queen. Would they speake with me? Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam

Queen. Pray their Graces To come neere: what can be their busines With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't, They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous: But all Hoods, make not Monkes. Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.

Wols. Peace to your Highnesse

Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, (I would be all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords? Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you The full cause of our comming

Queen. Speake it heere. There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience Deserues a Corner: would all other Women Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy Aboue a number) if my actions Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, Enuy and base opinion set against 'em, I know my life so euen. If your busines Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in; Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing

Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima

Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin; I am not such a Truant since my comming, As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious: Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you, If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake; Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed, May be absolu'd in English

Card. Noble Lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed, (And seruice to his Maiesty and you) So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way of Accusation, To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You haue too much good Lady: But to know How you stand minded in the waighty difference Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, And comforts to our cause

Camp. Most honour'd Madam, My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure Both of his truth and him (which was too farre) Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace, His Seruice, and his Counsell

Queen. To betray me. My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so) But how to make ye sodainly an Answere In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit; And to such men of grauity and learning; In truth I know not. I was set at worke, Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking Either for such men, or such businesse; For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause: Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse

Wol. Madam, You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, Your hopes and friends are infinite

Queen. In England, But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, That any English man dare giue me Councell? Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure, (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, They are (as all my other comforts) far hence In mine owne Countrey Lords

Camp. I would your Grace Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell

Queen. How Sir? Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much, Both for your Honour better, and your Cause: For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, You'l part away disgrac'd

Wol. He tels you rightly

Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge, That no King can corrupt

Camp. Your rage mistakes vs

Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye: Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd? I will not wish ye halfe my miseries, I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, You turne the good we offer, into enuy

Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, And all such false Professors. Would you haue me (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty, If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me? Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already, His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, And all the Fellowship I hold now with him Is onely my Obedience. What can happen To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies Make me a Curse, like this

Camp. Your feares are worse

Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe, Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory) Neuer yet branded with Suspition? Haue I, with all my full Affections Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him? Almost forgot my Prayres to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords. Bring me a constant woman to her Husband, One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; And to that Woman (when she has done most) Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience

Car. Madam, you wander from the good We ayme at

Qu. My Lord, I dare not make my selfe so guiltie, To giue vp willingly that Noble Title Your Master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e're diuorce my Dignities

Car. Pray heare me

Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it: Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched Lady? I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing. Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty, No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me? Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd, Ile hang my head, and perish

Car. If your Grace Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, The way of our Profession is against it; We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience, So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes. I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper, A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants

Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so: You wrong your Vertues With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit As yours was, put into you, euer casts Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice

Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords: And pray forgiue me; If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly, You know I am a Woman, lacking wit To make a seemely answer to such persons. Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie, He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers, Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges That little thought when she set footing heere, She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine.

Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces, With these you beare alreadie

Sur. I am ioyfull To meete the least occasion, that may giue me Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke, To be reueng'd on him

Suf. Which of the Peeres Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did he regard The stampe of Noblenesse in any person Out of himselfe? Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: What he deserues of you and me, I know: What we can do to him (though now the time Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft Ouer the King in's Tongue

Nor. O feare him not, His spell in that is out: the King hath found Matter against him, that for euer marres The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled (Not to come off) in his displeasure

Sur. Sir, I should be glad to heare such Newes as this Once euery houre

Nor. Beleeue it, this is true. In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares, As I would wish mine Enemy

Sur. How came His practises to light? Suf. Most strangely

Sur. O how? how? Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue My King is tangled in affection, to A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen

Sur. Ha's the King this? Suf. Beleeue it

Sur. Will this worke? Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts And hedges his owne way. But in this point All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke After his Patients death; the King already Hath married the faire Lady

Sur. Would he had

Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, For I professe you haue it

Sur. Now all my ioy Trace the Coniunction

Suf. My Amen too't

Nor. All mens

Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords She is a gallant Creature, and compleate In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall In it be memoriz'd

Sur. But will the King Digest this Letter of the Cardinals? The Lord forbid

Nor. Marry Amen

Suf. No, no: There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius, Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue, Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall, To second all his plot. I do assure you, The King cry'de Ha, at this

Cham. Now God incense him, And let him cry Ha, lowder

Norf. But my Lord When returnes Cranmer? Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce, Together with all famous Colledges Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) His second Marriage shall be publishd, and Her Coronation. Katherine no more Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, And Widdow to Prince Arthur

Nor. This same Cranmer's A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine In the Kings businesse

Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him For it, an Arch-byshop

Nor. So I heare

Suf. 'Tis so. Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.

The Cardinall

Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody

Car. The Packet Cromwell, Gau't you the King? Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber

Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper? Crom. Presently He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd, He did it with a Serious minde: a heede Was in his countenance. You he bad Attend him heere this Morning

Card. Is he ready to come abroad? Crom. I thinke by this he is

Card. Leaue me a while.

Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson, The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke? Nor. He's discontented

Suf. Maybe he heares the King Does whet his Anger to him

Sur. Sharpe enough, Lord for thy Iustice

Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman? A Knights Daughter To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous And well deseruing? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, And is his Oracle

Nor. He is vex'd at something. Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string, The Master-cord on's heart

Suf. The King, the King

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, Saw you the Cardinall? Nor. My Lord, we haue Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground, Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe, Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures We haue seene him set himselfe

King. It may well be, There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, Papers of State he sent me, to peruse As I requir'd: and wot you what I found There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly) Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure, Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes Possession of a Subiect

Nor. It's Heauens will, Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, To blesse your eye withall

King. If we did thinke His Contemplation were aboue the earth, And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth His serious considering.

King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.

Car. Heauen forgiue me, Euer God blesse your Highnesse

King. Good my Lord, You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which You were now running o're: you haue scarse time To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad To haue you therein my Companion

Car. Sir, For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require Her times of preseruation, which perforce I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, Must giue my tendance to

King. You haue said well

Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, (As I will lend you cause) my doing well, With my well saying

King. 'Tis well said agen, And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you, He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne His word vpon you. Since I had my Office, I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow My Bounties vpon you

Car. What should this meane? Sur. The Lord increase this businesse

King. Haue I not made you The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now pronounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say withall If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you? Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, Haue euer come too short of my Desires, Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it

King. Fairely answer'd: A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is Therein illustrated, the Honor of it Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues particular, be more To me your Friend, then any

Car. I do professe, That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours

King. 'Tis Nobly spoken: Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What appetite you haue.

Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering.

Car. What should this meane? What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new deuice to beate this from his Braines? I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope? The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, And no man see me more. Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you To render vp the Great Seale presently Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you heare further from his Highnesse

Car. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so weighty

Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely? Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? Sur. The King that gaue it