The Life of King Henry the Eighth

1I come no more to make you laugh: things now,

2That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

3Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

4Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

5We now present. Those that can pity, here

6May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

7The subject will deserve it. Such as give

8Their money out of hope they may believe,

9May here find truth too. Those that come to see

10Only a show or two, and so agree

11The play may pass, if they be still and willing,

12I'll undertake may see away their shilling

13Richly in two short hours. Only they

14That come to hear a merry bawdy play,

15A noise of targets, or to see a fellow

16In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,

17Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know,

18To rank our chosen truth with such a show

19As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting

20Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,

21To make that only true we now intend,

22Will leave us never an understanding friend.

23Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known

24The first and happiest hearers of the town,

25Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see

26The very persons of our noble story

27As they were living; think you see them great,

28And follow'd with the general throng and sweat

29Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see

30How soon this mightiness meets misery:

31And, if you can be merry then, I'll say

32A man may weep upon his wedding-day.

1Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done

2Since last we saw in France?

3I thank your grace,

4Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer

5Of what I saw there.

6An untimely ague

7Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when

8Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,

9Met in the vale of Andren.

10'Twixt Guynes and Arde:

11I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;

12Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung

13In their embracement, as they grew together;

14Which had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd

15Such a compounded one?

16All the whole time

17I was my chamber's prisoner.

18Then you lost

19The view of earthly glory: men might say,

20Till this time pomp was single, but now married

21To one above itself. Each following day

22Became the next day's master, till the last

23Made former wonders its. To-day the French,

24All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,

25Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they

26Made Britain India: every man that stood

27Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were

28As cherubins, all guilt: the madams too,

29Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear

30The pride upon them, that their very labour

31Was to them as a painting: now this masque

32Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night

33Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,

34Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,

35As presence did present them; him in eye,

36Still him in praise: and, being present both

37'Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner

38Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns--

39For so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged

40The noble spirits to arms, they did perform

41Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,

42Being now seen possible enough, got credit,

43That Bevis was believed.

44O, you go far.

45As I belong to worship and affect

46In honour honesty, the tract of every thing

47Would by a good discourser lose some life,

48Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;

49To the disposing of it nought rebell'd.

50Order gave each thing view; the office did

51Distinctly his full function.

52Who did guide,

53I mean, who set the body and the limbs

54Of this great sport together, as you guess?

55One, certes, that promises no element

56In such a business.

57I pray you, who, my lord?

58All this was order'd by the good discretion

59Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

60The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed

61From his ambitious finger. What had he

62To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder

63That such a keech can with his very bulk

64Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun

65And keep it from the earth.

66Surely, sir,

67There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;

68For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace

69Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon

70For high feats done to the crown; neither allied

71For eminent assistants; but, spider-like,

72Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,

73The force of his own merit makes his way

74A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys

75A place next to the king.

76I cannot tell

77What heaven hath given him,--let some graver eye

78Pierce into that; but I can see his pride

79Peep through each part of him: whence has he that,

80If not from hell? the devil is a niggard,

81Or has given all before, and he begins

82A new hell in himself.

83Why the devil,

84Upon this French going out, took he upon him,

85Without the privity o' the king, to appoint

86Who should attend on him? He makes up the file

87Of all the gentry; for the most part such

88To whom as great a charge as little honour

89He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,

90The honourable board of council out,

91Must fetch him in the papers.

92I do know

93Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have

94By this so sickened their estates, that never

95They shall abound as formerly.

96O, many

97Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em

98For this great journey. What did this vanity

99But minister communication of

100A most poor issue?

101Grievingly I think,

102The peace between the French and us not values

103The cost that did conclude it.

104Every man,

105After the hideous storm that follow'd, was

106A thing inspired; and, not consulting, broke

107Into a general prophecy; That this tempest,

108Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded

109The sudden breach on't.

110Which is budded out;

111For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd

112Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.

113Is it therefore

114The ambassador is silenced?

115Marry, is't.

116A proper title of a peace; and purchased

117At a superfluous rate!

118Why, all this business

119Our reverend cardinal carried.

120Like it your grace,

121The state takes notice of the private difference

122Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you--

123And take it from a heart that wishes towards you

124Honour and plenteous safety--that you read

125The cardinal's malice and his potency

126Together; to consider further that

127What his high hatred would effect wants not

128A minister in his power. You know his nature,

129That he's revengeful, and I know his sword

130Hath a sharp edge: it's long and, 't may be said,

131It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend,

132Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,

133You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock

134That I advise your shunning.

135The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?

136Where's his examination?

137Here, so please you.

138Is he in person ready?

139Ay, please your grace.

140Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham

141Shall lessen this big look.

142This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I

143Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best

144Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book

145Outworths a noble's blood.

146What, are you chafed?

147Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only

148Which your disease requires.

149I read in's looks

150Matter against me; and his eye reviled

151Me, as his abject object: at this instant

152He bores me with some trick: he's gone to the king;

153I'll follow and outstare him.

154Stay, my lord,

155And let your reason with your choler question

156What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills

157Requires slow pace at first: anger is like

158A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,

159Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England

160Can advise me like you: be to yourself

161As you would to your friend.

162I'll to the king;

163And from a mouth of honour quite cry down

164This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim

165There's difference in no persons.

166Be advised;

167Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot

168That it do singe yourself: we may outrun,

169By violent swiftness, that which we run at,

170And lose by over-running. Know you not,

171The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er,

172In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised:

173I say again, there is no English soul

174More stronger to direct you than yourself,

175If with the sap of reason you would quench,

176Or but allay, the fire of passion.

177Sir,

178I am thankful to you; and I'll go along

179By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,

180Whom from the flow of gall I name not but

181From sincere motions, by intelligence,

182And proofs as clear as founts in July when

183We see each grain of gravel, I do know

184To be corrupt and treasonous.

185Say not 'treasonous.'

186To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong

187As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,

188Or wolf, or both,--for he is equal ravenous

189As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief

190As able to perform't; his mind and place

191Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally--

192Only to show his pomp as well in France

193As here at home, suggests the king our master

194To this last costly treaty, the interview,

195That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass

196Did break i' the rinsing.

197Faith, and so it did.

198Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal

199The articles o' the combination drew

200As himself pleased; and they were ratified

201As he cried 'Thus let be': to as much end

202As give a crutch to the dead: but our count-cardinal

203Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,

204Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,--

205Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy

206To the old dam, treason,--Charles the emperor,

207Under pretence to see the queen his aunt--

208For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came

209To whisper Wolsey,--here makes visitation:

210His fears were, that the interview betwixt

211England and France might, through their amity,

212Breed him some prejudice; for from this league

213Peep'd harms that menaced him: he privily

214Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,--

215Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor

216Paid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted

217Ere it was ask'd; but when the way was made,

218And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,

219That he would please to alter the king's course,

220And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,

221As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal

222Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,

223And for his own advantage.

224I am sorry

225To hear this of him; and could wish he were

226Something mistaken in't.

227No, not a syllable:

228I do pronounce him in that very shape

229He shall appear in proof.

230Your office, sergeant; execute it.

231Sir,

232My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl

233Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I

234Arrest thee of high treason, in the name

235Of our most sovereign king.

236Lo, you, my lord,

237The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish

238Under device and practise.

239I am sorry

240To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on

241The business present: 'tis his highness' pleasure

242You shall to the Tower.

243It will help me nothing

244To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me

245Which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven

246Be done in this and all things! I obey.

247O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!

248Nay, he must bear you company. The king

249Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know

250How he determines further.

251As the duke said,

252The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure

253By me obey'd!

254Here is a warrant from

255The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies

256Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,

257One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor--

258So, so;

259These are the limbs o' the plot: no more, I hope.

260A monk o' the Chartreux.

261O, Nicholas Hopkins?

262He.

263My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal

264Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already:

265I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,

266Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,

267By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell.

1My life itself, and the best heart of it,

2Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level

3Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks

4To you that choked it. Let be call'd before us

5That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person

6I'll hear him his confessions justify;

7And point by point the treasons of his master

8He shall again relate.

9Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.

10Arise, and take place by us: half your suit

11Never name to us; you have half our power:

12The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;

13Repeat your will and take it.

14Thank your majesty.

15That you would love yourself, and in that love

16Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor

17The dignity of your office, is the point

18Of my petition.

19Lady mine, proceed.

20I am solicited, not by a few,

21And those of true condition, that your subjects

22Are in great grievance: there have been commissions

23Sent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart

24Of all their loyalties: wherein, although,

25My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches

26Most bitterly on you, as putter on

27Of these exactions, yet the king our master--

28Whose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he

29escapes not

30Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks

31The sides of loyalty, and almost appears

32In loud rebellion.

33Not almost appears,

34It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,

35The clothiers all, not able to maintain

36The many to them longing, have put off

37The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,

38Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger

39And lack of other means, in desperate manner

40Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,

41And danger serves among then!

42Taxation!

43Wherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal,

44You that are blamed for it alike with us,

45Know you of this taxation?

46Please you, sir,

47I know but of a single part, in aught

48Pertains to the state; and front but in that file

49Where others tell steps with me.

50No, my lord,

51You know no more than others; but you frame

52Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome

53To those which would not know them, and yet must

54Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,

55Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are

56Most pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear 'em,

57The back is sacrifice to the load. They say

58They are devised by you; or else you suffer

59Too hard an exclamation.

60Still exaction!

61The nature of it? in what kind, let's know,

62Is this exaction?

63I am much too venturous

64In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd

65Under your promised pardon. The subjects' grief

66Comes through commissions, which compel from each

67The sixth part of his substance, to be levied

68Without delay; and the pretence for this

69Is named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths:

70Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze

71Allegiance in them; their curses now

72Live where their prayers did: and it's come to pass,

73This tractable obedience is a slave

74To each incensed will. I would your highness

75Would give it quick consideration, for

76There is no primer business.

77By my life,

78This is against our pleasure.

79And for me,

80I have no further gone in this than by

81A single voice; and that not pass'd me but

82By learned approbation of the judges. If I am

83Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know

84My faculties nor person, yet will be

85The chronicles of my doing, let me say

86'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake

87That virtue must go through. We must not stint

88Our necessary actions, in the fear

89To cope malicious censurers; which ever,

90As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow

91That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further

92Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,

93By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is

94Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,

95Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up

96For our best act. If we shall stand still,

97In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,

98We should take root here where we sit, or sit

99State-statues only.

100Things done well,

101And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;

102Things done without example, in their issue

103Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent

104Of this commission? I believe, not any.

105We must not rend our subjects from our laws,

106And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?

107A trembling contribution! Why, we take

108From every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber;

109And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,

110The air will drink the sap. To every county

111Where this is question'd send our letters, with

112Free pardon to each man that has denied

113The force of this commission: pray, look to't;

114I put it to your care.

115A word with you.

116Let there be letters writ to every shire,

117Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons

118Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised

119That through our intercession this revokement

120And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you

121Further in the proceeding.

122I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham

123Is run in your displeasure.

124It grieves many:

125The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker;

126To nature none more bound; his training such,

127That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,

128And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,

129When these so noble benefits shall prove

130Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,

131They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly

132Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,

133Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,

134Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find

135His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,

136Hath into monstrous habits put the graces

137That once were his, and is become as black

138As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear--

139This was his gentleman in trust--of him

140Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount

141The fore-recited practises; whereof

142We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

143Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,

144Most like a careful subject, have collected

145Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

146Speak freely.

147First, it was usual with him, every day

148It would infect his speech, that if the king

149Should without issue die, he'll carry it so

150To make the sceptre his: these very words

151I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,

152Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced

153Revenge upon the cardinal.

154Please your highness, note

155This dangerous conception in this point.

156Not friended by by his wish, to your high person

157His will is most malignant; and it stretches

158Beyond you, to your friends.

159My learn'd lord cardinal,

160Deliver all with charity.

161Speak on:

162How grounded he his title to the crown,

163Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him

164At any time speak aught?

165He was brought to this

166By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.

167What was that Hopkins?

168Sir, a Chartreux friar,

169His confessor, who fed him every minute

170With words of sovereignty.

171How know'st thou this?

172Not long before your highness sped to France,

173The duke being at the Rose, within the parish

174Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand

175What was the speech among the Londoners

176Concerning the French journey: I replied,

177Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,

178To the king's danger. Presently the duke

179Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted

180'Twould prove the verity of certain words

181Spoke by a holy monk; 'that oft,' says he,

182'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit

183John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour

184To hear from him a matter of some moment:

185Whom after under the confession's seal

186He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke

187My chaplain to no creature living, but

188To me, should utter, with demure confidence

189This pausingly ensued: neither the king nor's heirs,

190Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive

191To gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke

192Shall govern England.'

193If I know you well,

194You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office

195On the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed

196You charge not in your spleen a noble person

197And spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed;

198Yes, heartily beseech you.

199Let him on.

200Go forward.

201On my soul, I'll speak but truth.

202I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions

203The monk might be deceived; and that 'twas dangerous for him

204To ruminate on this so far, until

205It forged him some design, which, being believed,

206It was much like to do: he answer'd, 'Tush,

207It can do me no damage;' adding further,

208That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,

209The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads

210Should have gone off.

211Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!

212There's mischief in this man: canst thou say further?

213I can, my liege.

214Proceed.

215Being at Greenwich,

216After your highness had reproved the duke

217About Sir William Blomer,--

218I remember

219Of such a time: being my sworn servant,

220The duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?

221'If,' quoth he, 'I for this had been committed,

222As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd

223The part my father meant to act upon

224The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,

225Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted,

226As he made semblance of his duty, would

227Have put his knife to him.'

228A giant traitor!

229Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,

230and this man out of prison?

231God mend all!

232There's something more would out of thee; what say'st?

233After 'the duke his father,' with 'the knife,'

234He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,

235Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes

236He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenor

237Was,--were he evil used, he would outgo

238His father by as much as a performance

239Does an irresolute purpose.

240There's his period,

241To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd;

242Call him to present trial: if he may

243Find mercy in the law, 'tis his: if none,

244Let him not seek 't of us: by day and night,

245He's traitor to the height.

1Is't possible the spells of France should juggle

2Men into such strange mysteries?

3New customs,

4Though they be never so ridiculous,

5Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

6As far as I see, all the good our English

7Have got by the late voyage is but merely

8A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;

9For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly

10Their very noses had been counsellors

11To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

12They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,

13That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin

14Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.

15Death! my lord,

16Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,

17That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.

18How now!

19What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

20Faith, my lord,

21I hear of none, but the new proclamation

22That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.

23What is't for?

24The reformation of our travell'd gallants,

25That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

26I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs

27To think an English courtier may be wise,

28And never see the Louvre.

29They must either,

30For so run the conditions, leave those remnants

31Of fool and feather that they got in France,

32With all their honourable point of ignorance

33Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,

34Abusing better men than they can be,

35Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean

36The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,

37Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel,

38And understand again like honest men;

39Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,

40They may, 'cum privilegio,' wear away

41The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.

42'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases

43Are grown so catching.

44What a loss our ladies

45Will have of these trim vanities!

46Ay, marry,

47There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons

48Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;

49A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.

50The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,

51For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now

52An honest country lord, as I am, beaten

53A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong

54And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,

55Held current music too.

56Well said, Lord Sands;

57Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

58No, my lord;

59Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

60Sir Thomas,

61Whither were you a-going?

62To the cardinal's:

63Your lordship is a guest too.

64O, 'tis true:

65This night he makes a supper, and a great one,

66To many lords and ladies; there will be

67The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.

68That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,

69A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;

70His dews fall every where.

71No doubt he's noble;

72He had a black mouth that said other of him.

73He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him

74Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:

75Men of his way should be most liberal;

76They are set here for examples.

77True, they are so:

78But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;

79Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,

80We shall be late else; which I would not be,

81For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford

82This night to be comptrollers.

83I am your lordship's.

1Ladies, a general welcome from his grace

2Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates

3To fair content and you: none here, he hopes,

4In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

5One care abroad; he would have all as merry

6As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

7Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

8The very thought of this fair company

9Clapp'd wings to me.

10You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.

11Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal

12But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these

13Should find a running banquet ere they rested,

14I think would better please 'em: by my life,

15They are a sweet society of fair ones.

16O, that your lordship were but now confessor

17To one or two of these!

18I would I were;

19They should find easy penance.

20Faith, how easy?

21As easy as a down-bed would afford it.

22Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,

23Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this:

24His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze;

25Two women placed together makes cold weather:

26My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;

27Pray, sit between these ladies.

28By my faith,

29And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies:

30If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;

31I had it from my father.

32Was he mad, sir?

33O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

34But he would bite none; just as I do now,

35He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

36Well said, my lord.

37So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,

38The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies

39Pass away frowning.

40For my little cure,

41Let me alone.

42You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,

43Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,

44Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome;

45And to you all, good health.

46Your grace is noble:

47Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,

48And save me so much talking.

49My Lord Sands,

50I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.

51Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen,

52Whose fault is this?

53The red wine first must rise

54In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em

55Talk us to silence.

56You are a merry gamester,

57My Lord Sands.

58Yes, if I make my play.

59Here's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam,

60For 'tis to such a thing,--

61You cannot show me.

62I told your grace they would talk anon.

63What's that?

64Look out there, some of ye.

65What warlike voice,

66And to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;

67By all the laws of war you're privileged.

68How now! what is't?

69A noble troop of strangers;

70For so they seem: they've left their barge and landed;

71And hither make, as great ambassadors

72From foreign princes.

73Good lord chamberlain,

74Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

75And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

76Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

77Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

78You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

79A good digestion to you all: and once more

80I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all.

81A noble company! what are their pleasures?

82Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd

83To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame

84Of this so noble and so fair assembly

85This night to meet here, they could do no less

86Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,

87But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,

88Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat

89An hour of revels with 'em.

90Say, lord chamberlain,

91They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em

92A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.

93The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,

94Till now I never knew thee!

95My lord!

96Your grace?

97Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:

98There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,

99More worthy this place than myself; to whom,

100If I but knew him, with my love and duty

101I would surrender it.

102I will, my lord.

103What say they?

104Such a one, they all confess,

105There is indeed; which they would have your grace

106Find out, and he will take it.

107Let me see, then.

108By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll make

109My royal choice.

110Ye have found him, cardinal:

111You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:

112You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,

113I should judge now unhappily.

114I am glad

115Your grace is grown so pleasant.

116My lord chamberlain,

117Prithee, come hither: what fair lady's that?

118An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter--

119The Viscount Rochford,--one of her highness' women.

120By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,

121I were unmannerly, to take you out,

122And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!

123Let it go round.

124Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready

125I' the privy chamber?

126Yes, my lord.

127Your grace,

128I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

129I fear, too much.

130There's fresher air, my lord,

131In the next chamber.

132Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,

133I must not yet forsake you: let's be merry:

134Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths

135To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure

136To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream

137Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.

1Whither away so fast?

2O, God save ye!

3Even to the hall, to hear what shall become

4Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

5I'll save you

6That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony

7Of bringing back the prisoner.

8Were you there?

9Yes, indeed, was I.

10Pray, speak what has happen'd.

11You may guess quickly what.

12Is he found guilty?

13Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.

14I am sorry for't.

15So are a number more.

16But, pray, how pass'd it?

17I'll tell you in a little. The great duke

18Came to the bar; where to his accusations

19He pleaded still not guilty and alleged

20Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

21The king's attorney on the contrary

22Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions

23Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired

24To have brought viva voce to his face:

25At which appear'd against him his surveyor;

26Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,

27Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,

28Hopkins, that made this mischief.

29That was he

30That fed him with his prophecies?

31The same.

32All these accused him strongly; which he fain

33Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:

34And so his peers, upon this evidence,

35Have found him guilty of high treason. Much

36He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all

37Was either pitied in him or forgotten.

38After all this, how did he bear himself?

39When he was brought again to the bar, to hear

40His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd

41With such an agony, he sweat extremely,

42And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:

43But he fell to himself again, and sweetly

44In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.

45I do not think he fears death.

46Sure, he does not:

47He never was so womanish; the cause

48He may a little grieve at.

49Certainly

50The cardinal is the end of this.

51'Tis likely,

52By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,

53Then deputy of Ireland; who removed,

54Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,

55Lest he should help his father.

56That trick of state

57Was a deep envious one.

58At his return

59No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,

60And generally, whoever the king favours,

61The cardinal instantly will find employment,

62And far enough from court too.

63All the commons

64Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,

65Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much

66They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,

67The mirror of all courtesy;--

68Stay there, sir,

69And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

70Let's stand close, and behold him.

71All good people,

72You that thus far have come to pity me,

73Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

74I have this day received a traitor's judgment,

75And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,

76And if I have a co nscience, let it sink me,

77Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!

78The law I bear no malice for my death;

79'T has done, upon the premises, but justice:

80But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:

81Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em:

82Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,

83Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;

84For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.

85For further life in this world I ne'er hope,

86Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies

87More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,

88And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,

89His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave

90Is only bitter to him, only dying,

91Go with me, like good angels, to my end;

92And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,

93Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,

94And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name.

95I do beseech your grace, for charity,

96If ever any malice in your heart

97Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

98Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you

99As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;

100There cannot be those numberless offences

101'Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with:

102no black envy

103Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace;

104And if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him

105You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers

106Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake,

107Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live

108Longer than I have time to tell his years!

109Ever beloved and loving may his rule be!

110And when old time shall lead him to his end,

111Goodness and he fill up one monument!

112To the water side I must conduct your grace;

113Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,

114Who undertakes you to your end.

115Prepare there,

116The duke is coming: see the barge be ready;

117And fit it with such furniture as suits

118The greatness of his person.

119Nay, Sir Nicholas,

120Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.

121When I came hither, I was lord high constable

122And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:

123Yet I am richer than my base accusers,

124That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;

125And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.

126My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

127Who first raised head against usurping Richard,

128Flying for succor to his servant Banister,

129Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,

130And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!

131Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying

132My father's loss, like a most royal prince,

133Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,

134Made my name once more noble. Now his son,

135Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all

136That made me happy at one stroke has taken

137For ever from the world. I had my trial,

138And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me,

139A little happier than my wretched father:

140Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both

141Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most;

142A most unnatural and faithless service!

143Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,

144This from a dying man receive as certain:

145Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels

146Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends

147And give your hearts to, when they once perceive

148The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

149Like water from ye, never found again

150But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,

151Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour

152Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell:

153And when you would say something that is sad,

154Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!

155O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,

156I fear, too many curses on their beads

157That were the authors.

158If the duke be guiltless,

159'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling

160Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

161Greater than this.

162Good angels keep it from us!

163What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?

164This secret is so weighty, 'twill require

165A strong faith to conceal it.

166Let me have it;

167I do not talk much.

168I am confident,

169You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear

170A buzzing of a separation

171Between the king and Katharine?

172Yes, but it held not:

173For when the king once heard it, out of anger

174He sent command to the lord mayor straight

175To stop the rumor, and allay those tongues

176That durst disperse it.

177But that slander, sir,

178Is found a truth now: for it grows again

179Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain

180The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,

181Or some about him near, have, out of malice

182To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple

183That will undo her: to confirm this too,

184Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;

185As all think, for this business.

186'Tis the cardinal;

187And merely to revenge him on the emperor

188For not bestowing on him, at his asking,

189The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.

190I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel

191That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal

192Will have his will, and she must fall.

193'Tis woful.

194We are too open here to argue this;

195Let's think in private more.

1'My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with

2all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and

3furnished. They were young and handsome, and of the

4best breed in the north. When they were ready to

5set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by

6commission and main power, took 'em from me; with

7this reason: His master would be served before a

8subject, if not before the king; which stopped our

9mouths, sir.'

10I fear he will indeed: well, let him have them:

11He will have all, I think.

12Well met, my lord chamberlain.

13Good day to both your graces.

14How is the king employ'd?

15I left him private,

16Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

17What's the cause?

18It seems the marriage with his brother's wife

19Has crept too near his conscience.

20No, his conscience

21Has crept too near another lady.

22'Tis so:

23This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:

24That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,

25Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.

26Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.

27How holily he works in all his business!

28And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league

29Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,

30He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters

31Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,

32Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage:

33And out of all these to restore the king,

34He counsels a divorce; a loss of her

35That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years

36About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;

37Of her that loves him with that excellence

38That angels love good men with; even of her

39That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,

40Will bless the king: and is not this course pious?

41Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true

42These news are every where; every tongue speaks 'em,

43And every true heart weeps for't: all that dare

44Look into these affairs see this main end,

45The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open

46The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon

47This bold bad man.

48And free us from his slavery.

49We had need pray,

50And heartily, for our deliverance;

51Or this imperious man will work us all

52From princes into pages: all men's honours

53Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd

54Into what pitch he please.

55For me, my lords,

56I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:

57As I am made without him, so I'll stand,

58If the king please; his curses and his blessings

59Touch me alike, they're breath I not believe in.

60I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him

61To him that made him proud, the pope.

62Let's in;

63And with some other business put the king

64From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:

65My lord, you'll bear us company?

66Excuse me;

67The king has sent me otherwhere: besides,

68You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:

69Health to your lordships.

70Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

71How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

72Who's there, ha?

73Pray God he be not angry.

74Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

75Into my private meditations?

76Who am I? ha?

77A gracious king that pardons all offences

78Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way

79Is business of estate; in which we come

80To know your royal pleasure.

81Ye are too bold:

82Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:

83Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?

84Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey,

85The quiet of my wounded conscience;

86Thou art a cure fit for a king.

87You're welcome,

88Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:

89Use us and it.

90My good lord, have great care

91I be not found a talker.

92Sir, you cannot.

93I would your grace would give us but an hour

94Of private conference.

95[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]

96We are busy; go.

97[Aside to SUFFOLK]

98This priest has no pride in him?

99[Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of:

100I would not be so sick though for his place:

101But this cannot continue.

102[Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do,

103I'll venture one have-at-him.

104[Aside to NORFOLK] I another.

105Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

106Above all princes, in committing freely

107Your scruple to the voice of Christendom:

108Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?

109The Spaniard, tied blood and favour to her,

110Must now confess, if they have any goodness,

111The trial just and noble. All the clerks,

112I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms

113Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment,

114Invited by your noble self, hath sent

115One general tongue unto us, this good man,

116This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;

117Whom once more I present unto your highness.

118And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,

119And thank the holy conclave for their loves:

120They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.

121Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,

122You are so noble. To your highness' hand

123I tender my commission; by whose virtue,

124The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord

125Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant

126In the unpartial judging of this business.

127Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted

128Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

129I know your majesty has always loved her

130So dear in heart, not to deny her that

131A woman of less place might ask by law:

132Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.

133Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour

134To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,

135Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:

136I find him a fit fellow.

137[Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand much joy and

138favour to you;

139You are the king's now.

140[Aside to CARDINAL WOLSEY]

141But to be commanded

142For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.

143Come hither, Gardiner.

144My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace

145In this man's place before him?

146Yes, he was.

147Was he not held a learned man?

148Yes, surely.

149Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then

150Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

151How! of me?

152They will not stick to say you envied him,

153And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,

154Kept him a foreign man still; which so grieved him,

155That he ran mad and died.

156Heaven's peace be with him!

157That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers

158There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;

159For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow,

160If I command him, follows my appointment:

161I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,

162We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

163Deliver this with modesty to the queen.

164The most convenient place that I can think of

165For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars;

166There ye shall meet about this weighty business.

167My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,

168Would it not grieve an able man to leave

169So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!

170O, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her.

1Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches:

2His highness having lived so long with her, and she

3So good a lady that no tongue could ever

4Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,

5She never knew harm-doing: O, now, after

6So many courses of the sun enthroned,

7Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which

8To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than

9'Tis sweet at first to acquire,--after this process,

10To give her the avaunt! it is a pity

11Would move a monster.

12Hearts of most hard temper

13Melt and lament for her.

14O, God's will! much better

15She ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal,

16Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce

17It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging

18As soul and body's severing.

19Alas, poor lady!

20She's a stranger now again.

21So much the more

22Must pity drop upon her. Verily,

23I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,

24And range with humble livers in content,

25Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,

26And wear a golden sorrow.

27Our content

28Is our best having.

29By my troth and maidenhead,

30I would not be a queen.

31Beshrew me, I would,

32And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,

33For all this spice of your hypocrisy:

34You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,

35Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet

36Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;

37Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,

38Saving your mincing, the capacity

39Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,

40If you might please to stretch it.

41Nay, good troth.

42Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen?

43No, not for all the riches under heaven.

44Old Lady: 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me,

45Old as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you,

46What think you of a duchess? have you limbs

47To bear that load of title?

48No, in truth.

49Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little;

50I would not be a young count in your way,

51For more than blushing comes to: if your back

52Cannot vouchsafe this burthen,'tis too weak

53Ever to get a boy.

54How you do talk!

55I swear again, I would not be a queen

56For all the world.

57In faith, for little England

58You'ld venture an emballing: I myself

59Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd

60No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

61Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know

62The secret of your conference?

63My good lord,

64Not your demand; it values not your asking:

65Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

66It was a gentle business, and becoming

67The action of good women: there is hope

68All will be well.

69Now, I pray God, amen!

70You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings

71Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,

72Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's

73Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty

74Commends his good opinion of you, and

75Does purpose honour to you no less flowing

76Than Marchioness of Pembroke: to which title

77A thousand pound a year, annual support,

78Out of his grace he adds.

79I do not know

80What kind of my obedience I should tender;

81More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers

82Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes

83More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes

84Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,

85Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,

86As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness;

87Whose health and royalty I pray for.

88Lady,

89I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit

90The king hath of you.

91I have perused her well;

92Beauty and honour in her are so mingled

93That they have caught the king: and who knows yet

94But from this lady may proceed a gem

95To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king,

96And say I spoke with you.

97My honour'd lord.

98Why, this it is; see, see!

99I have been begging sixteen years in court,

100Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could

101Come pat betwixt too early and too late

102For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!

103A very fresh-fish here--fie, fie, fie upon

104This compell'd fortune!--have your mouth fill'd up

105Before you open it.

106This is strange to me.

107How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.

108There was a lady once, 'tis an old story,

109That would not be a queen, that would she not,

110For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?

111Come, you are pleasant.

112With your theme, I could

113O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!

114A thousand pounds a year for pure respect!

115No other obligation! By my life,

116That promises moe thousands: honour's train

117Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time

118I know your back will bear a duchess: say,

119Are you not stronger than you were?

120Good lady,

121Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,

122And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,

123If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me,

124To think what follows.

125The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful

126In our long absence: pray, do not deliver

127What here you've heard to her.

128What do you think me?

1Whilst our commission from Rome is read,

2Let silence be commanded.

3What's the need?

4It hath already publicly been read,

5And on all sides the authority allow'd;

6You may, then, spare that time.

7Be't so. Proceed.

8Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.

9Henry King of England, & c.

10Here.

11Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.

12Katharine Queen of England, & c.

13Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;

14And to bestow your pity on me: for

15I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,

16Born out of your dominions; having here

17No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance

18Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,

19In what have I offended you? what cause

20Hath my behavior given to your displeasure,

21That thus you should proceed to put me off,

22And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,

23I have been to you a true and humble wife,

24At all times to your will conformable;

25Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

26Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry

27As I saw it inclined: when was the hour

28I ever contradicted your desire,

29Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends

30Have I not strove to love, although I knew

31He were mine enemy? what friend of mine

32That had to him derived your anger, did I

33Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice

34He was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind

35That I have been your wife, in this obedience,

36Upward of twenty years, and have been blest

37With many children by you: if, in the course

38And process of this time, you can report,

39And prove it too, against mine honour aught,

40My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,

41Against your sacred person, in God's name,

42Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt

43Shut door upon me, and so give me up

44To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you sir,

45The king, your father, was reputed for

46A prince most prudent, of an excellent

47And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,

48My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one

49The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many

50A year before: it is not to be question'd

51That they had gather'd a wise council to them

52Of every realm, that did debate this business,

53Who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly

54Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

55Be by my friends in Spain advised; whose counsel

56I will implore: if not, i' the name of God,

57Your pleasure be fulfill'd!

58You have here, lady,

59And of your choice, these reverend fathers; men

60Of singular integrity and learning,

61Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled

62To plead your cause: it shall be therefore bootless

63That longer you desire the court; as well

64For your own quiet, as to rectify

65What is unsettled in the king.

66His grace

67Hath spoken well and justly: therefore, madam,

68It's fit this royal session do proceed;

69And that, without delay, their arguments

70Be now produced and heard.

71Lord cardinal,

72To you I speak.

73Your pleasure, madam?

74Sir,

75I am about to weep; but, thinking that

76We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain

77The daughter of a king, my drops of tears

78I'll turn to sparks of fire.

79Be patient yet.

80I will, when you are humble; nay, before,

81Or God will punish me. I do believe,

82Induced by potent circumstances, that

83You are mine enemy, and make my challenge

84You shall not be my judge: for it is you

85Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me;

86Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,

87I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul

88Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more,

89I hold my most malicious foe, and think not

90At all a friend to truth.

91I do profess

92You speak not like yourself; who ever yet

93Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects

94Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom

95O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong:

96I have no spleen against you; nor injustice

97For you or any: how far I have proceeded,

98Or how far further shall, is warranted

99By a commission from the consistory,

100Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me

101That I have blown this coal: I do deny it:

102The king is present: if it be known to him

103That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,

104And worthily, my falsehood! yea, as much

105As you have done my truth. If he know

106That I am free of your report, he knows

107I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him

108It lies to cure me: and the cure is, to

109Remove these thoughts from you: the which before

110His highness shall speak in, I do beseech

111You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking

112And to say so no more.

113My lord, my lord,

114I am a simple woman, much too weak

115To oppose your cunning. You're meek and

116humble-mouth'd;

117You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,

118With meekness and humility; but your heart

119Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.

120You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,

121Gone slightly o'er low steps and now are mounted

122Where powers are your retainers, and your words,

123Domestics to you, serve your will as't please

124Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,

125You tender more your person's honour than

126Your high profession spiritual: that again

127I do refuse you for my judge; and here,

128Before you all, appeal unto the pope,

129To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,

130And to be judged by him.

131The queen is obstinate,

132Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and

133Disdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well.

134She's going away.

135Call her again.

136Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.

137Madam, you are call'd back.

138What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:

139When you are call'd, return. Now, the Lord help,

140They vex me past my patience! Pray you, pass on:

141I will not tarry; no, nor ever more

142Upon this business my appearance make

143In any of their courts.

144Go thy ways, Kate:

145That man i' the world who shall report he has

146A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,

147For speaking false in that: thou art, alone,

148If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,

149Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,

150Obeying in commanding, and thy parts

151Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,

152The queen of earthly queens: she's noble born;

153And, like her true nobility, she has

154Carried herself towards me.

155Most gracious sir,

156In humblest manner I require your highness,

157That it shall please you to declare, in hearing

158Of all these ears,--for where I am robb'd and bound,

159There must I be unloosed, although not there

160At once and fully satisfied,--whether ever I

161Did broach this business to your highness; or

162Laid any scruple in your way, which might

163Induce you to the question on't? or ever

164Have to you, but with thanks to God for such

165A royal lady, spake one the least word that might

166Be to the prejudice of her present state,

167Or touch of her good person?

168My lord cardinal,

169I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,

170I free you from't. You are not to be taught

171That you have many enemies, that know not

172Why they are so, but, like to village-curs,

173Bark when their fellows do: by some of these

174The queen is put in anger. You're excused:

175But will you be more justified? You ever

176Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desired

177It to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft,

178The passages made toward it: on my honour,

179I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,

180And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't,

181I will be bold with time and your attention:

182Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't:

183My conscience first received a tenderness,

184Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd

185By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;

186Who had been hither sent on the debating

187A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and

188Our daughter Mary: i' the progress of this business,

189Ere a determinate resolution, he,

190I mean the bishop, did require a respite;

191Wherein he might the king his lord advertise

192Whether our daughter were legitimate,

193Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,

194Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook

195The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,

196Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble

197The region of my breast; which forced such way,

198That many mazed considerings did throng

199And press'd in with this caution. First, methought

200I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had

201Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,

202If it conceived a male child by me, should

203Do no more offices of life to't than

204The grave does to the dead; for her male issue

205Or died where they were made, or shortly after

206This world had air'd them: hence I took a thought,

207This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,

208Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not

209Be gladded in't by me: then follows, that

210I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in

211By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me

212Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in

213The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer

214Toward this remedy, whereupon we are

215Now present here together: that's to say,

216I meant to rectify my conscience,--which

217I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,--

218By all the reverend fathers of the land

219And doctors learn'd: first I began in private

220With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember

221How under my oppression I did reek,

222When I first moved you.

223Very well, my liege.

224I have spoke long: be pleased yourself to say

225How far you satisfied me.

226So please your highness,

227The question did at first so stagger me,

228Bearing a state of mighty moment in't

229And consequence of dread, that I committed

230The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt;

231And did entreat your highness to this course

232Which you are running here.

233I then moved you,

234My Lord of Canterbury; and got your leave

235To make this present summons: unsolicited

236I left no reverend person in this court;

237But by particular consent proceeded

238Under your hands and seals: therefore, go on:

239For no dislike i' the world against the person

240Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points

241Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward:

242Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life

243And kingly dignity, we are contented

244To wear our mortal state to come with her,

245Katharine our queen, before the primest creature

246That's paragon'd o' the world.

247So please your highness,

248The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness

249That we adjourn this court till further day:

250Meanwhile must be an earnest motion

251Made to the queen, to call back her appeal

252She intends unto his holiness.

253[Aside] I may perceive

254These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor

255This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

256My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,

257Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know,

258My comfort comes along. Break up the court:

259I say, set on.

1Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;

2Sing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave working.

3Orpheus with his lute made trees,

4And the mountain tops that freeze,

5Bow themselves when he did sing:

6To his music plants and flowers

7Ever sprung; as sun and showers

8There had made a lasting spring.

9Every thing that heard him play,

10Even the billows of the sea,

11Hung their heads, and then lay by.

12In sweet music is such art,

13Killing care and grief of heart

14Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

15How now!

16An't please your grace, the two great cardinals

17Wait in the presence.

18Would they speak with me?

19They will'd me say so, madam.

20Pray their graces

21To come near.

22What can be their business

23With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour?

24I do not like their coming. Now I think on't,

25They should be good men; their affairs as righteous:

26But all hoods make not monks.

27Peace to your highness!

28Your graces find me here part of a housewife,

29I would be all, against the worst may happen.

30What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?

31May it please you noble madam, to withdraw

32Into your private chamber, we shall give you

33The full cause of our coming.

34Speak it here:

35There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,

36Deserves a corner: would all other women

37Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!

38My lords, I care not, so much I am happy

39Above a number, if my actions

40Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em,

41Envy and base opinion set against 'em,

42I know my life so even. If your business

43Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,

44Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.

45Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina

46serenissima,--

47O, good my lord, no Latin;

48I am not such a truant since my coming,

49As not to know the language I have lived in:

50A strange tongue makes my cause more strange,

51suspicious;

52Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,

53If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;

54Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal,

55The willing'st sin I ever yet committed

56May be absolved in English.

57Noble lady,

58I am sorry my integrity should breed,

59And service to his majesty and you,

60So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.

61We come not by the way of accusation,

62To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,

63Nor to betray you any way to sorrow,

64You have too much, good lady; but to know

65How you stand minded in the weighty difference

66Between the king and you; and to deliver,

67Like free and honest men, our just opinions

68And comforts to your cause.

69Most honour'd madam,

70My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,

71Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,

72Forgetting, like a good man your late censure

73Both of his truth and him, which was too far,

74Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,

75His service and his counsel.

76[Aside] To betray me.--

77My lords, I thank you both for your good wills;

78Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so!

79But how to make ye suddenly an answer,

80In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,--

81More near my life, I fear,--with my weak wit,

82And to such men of gravity and learning,

83In truth, I know not. I was set at work

84Among my maids: full little, God knows, looking

85Either for such men or such business.

86For her sake that I have been,--for I feel

87The last fit of my greatness,--good your graces,

88Let me have time and counsel for my cause:

89Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!

90Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears:

91Your hopes and friends are infinite.

92In England

93But little for my profit: can you think, lords,

94That any Englishman dare give me counsel?

95Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,

96Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,

97And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,

98They that must weigh out my afflictions,

99They that my trust must grow to, live not here:

100They are, as all my other comforts, far hence

101In mine own country, lords.

102I would your grace

103Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.

104How, sir?

105Put your main cause into the king's protection;

106He's loving and most gracious: 'twill be much

107Both for your honour better and your cause;

108For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,

109You'll part away disgraced.

110He tells you rightly.

111Ye tell me what ye wish for both,--my ruin:

112Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!

113Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge

114That no king can corrupt.

115Your rage mistakes us.

116The more shame for ye: holy men I thought ye,

117Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;

118But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye:

119Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?

120The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,

121A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?

122I will not wish ye half my miseries;

123I have more charity: but say, I warn'd ye;

124Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once

125The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.

126Madam, this is a mere distraction;

127You turn the good we offer into envy.

128Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye

129And all such false professors! would you have me--

130If you have any justice, any pity;

131If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits--

132Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?

133Alas, has banish'd me his bed already,

134His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords,

135And all the fellowship I hold now with him

136Is only my obedience. What can happen

137To me above this wretchedness? all your studies

138Make me a curse like this.

139Your fears are worse.

140Have I lived thus long--let me speak myself,

141Since virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one?

142A woman, I dare say without vain-glory,

143Never yet branded with suspicion?

144Have I with all my full affections

145Still met the king? loved him next heaven?

146obey'd him?

147Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?

148Almost forgot my prayers to content him?

149And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.

150Bring me a constant woman to her husband,

151One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;

152And to that woman, when she has done most,

153Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.

154Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

155My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,

156To give up willingly that noble title

157Your master wed me to: nothing but death

158Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

159Pray, hear me.

160Would I had never trod this English earth,

161Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!

162Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.

163What will become of me now, wretched lady!

164I am the most unhappy woman living.

165Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!

166Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,

167No friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me;

168Almost no grave allow'd me: like the lily,

169That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,

170I'll hang my head and perish.

171If your grace

172Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,

173You'ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,

174Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places,

175The way of our profession is against it:

176We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em.

177For goodness' sake, consider what you do;

178How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly

179Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.

180The hearts of princes kiss obedience,

181So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits

182They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.

183I know you have a gentle, noble temper,

184A soul as even as a calm: pray, think us

185Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.

186Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues

187With these weak women's fears: a noble spirit,

188As yours was put into you, ever casts

189Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;

190Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please

191To trust us in your business, we are ready

192To use our utmost studies in your service.

193Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me,

194If I have used myself unmannerly;

195You know I am a woman, lacking wit

196To make a seemly answer to such persons.

197Pray, do my service to his majesty:

198He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers

199While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,

200Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,

201That little thought, when she set footing here,

202She should have bought her dignities so dear.

1If you will now unite in your complaints,

2And force them with a constancy, the cardinal

3Cannot stand under them: if you omit

4The offer of this time, I cannot promise

5But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces,

6With these you bear already.

7I am joyful

8To meet the least occasion that may give me

9Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,

10To be revenged on him.

11Which of the peers

12Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least

13Strangely neglected? when did he regard

14The stamp of nobleness in any person

15Out of himself?

16My lords, you speak your pleasures:

17What he deserves of you and me I know;

18What we can do to him, though now the time

19Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot

20Bar his access to the king, never attempt

21Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft

22Over the king in's tongue.

23O, fear him not;

24His spell in that is out: the king hath found

25Matter against him that for ever mars

26The honey of his language. No, he's settled,

27Not to come off, in his displeasure.

28Sir,

29I should be glad to hear such news as this

30Once every hour.

31Believe it, this is true:

32In the divorce his contrary proceedings

33Are all unfolded wherein he appears

34As I would wish mine enemy.

35How came

36His practises to light?

37Most strangely.

38O, how, how?

39The cardinal's letters to the pope miscarried,

40And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read,

41How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness

42To stay the judgment o' the divorce; for if

43It did take place, 'I do,' quoth he, 'perceive

44My king is tangled in affection to

45A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'

46Has the king this?

47Believe it.

48Will this work?

49The king in this perceives him, how he coasts

50And hedges his own way. But in this point

51All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic

52After his patient's death: the king already

53Hath married the fair lady.

54Would he had!

55May you be happy in your wish, my lord

56For, I profess, you have it.

57Now, all my joy

58Trace the conjunction!

59My amen to't!

60All men's!

61There's order given for her coronation:

62Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left

63To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,

64She is a gallant creature, and complete

65In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her

66Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall

67In it be memorised.

68But, will the king

69Digest this letter of the cardinal's?

70The Lord forbid!

71Marry, amen!

72No, no;

73There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose

74Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius

75Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;

76Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and

77Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,

78To second all his plot. I do assure you

79The king cried Ha! at this.

80Now, God incense him,

81And let him cry Ha! louder!

82But, my lord,

83When returns Cranmer?

84He is return'd in his opinions; which

85Have satisfied the king for his divorce,

86Together with all famous colleges

87Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe,

88His second marriage shall be publish'd, and

89Her coronation. Katharine no more

90Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager

91And widow to Prince Arthur.

92This same Cranmer's

93A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain

94In the king's business.

95He has; and we shall see him

96For it an archbishop.

97So I hear.

98'Tis so.

99The cardinal!

100Observe, observe, he's moody.

101The packet, Cromwell.

102Gave't you the king?

103To his own hand, in's bedchamber.

104Look'd he o' the inside of the paper?

105Presently

106He did unseal them: and the first he view'd,

107He did it with a serious mind; a heed

108Was in his countenance. You he bade

109Attend him here this morning.

110Is he ready

111To come abroad?

112I think, by this he is.

113Leave me awhile.

114It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,

115The French king's sister: he shall marry her.

116Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:

117There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen!

118No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish

119To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!

120He's discontented.

121May be, he hears the king

122Does whet his anger to him.

123Sharp enough,

124Lord, for thy justice!

125[Aside] The late queen's gentlewoman,

126a knight's daughter,

127To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!

128This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;

129Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous

130And well deserving? yet I know her for

131A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to

132Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of

133Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up

134An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one

135Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,

136And is his oracle.

137He is vex'd at something.

138I would 'twere something that would fret the string,

139The master-cord on's heart!

140The king, the king!

141What piles of wealth hath he accumulated

142To his own portion! and what expense by the hour

143Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,

144Does he rake this together! Now, my lords,

145Saw you the cardinal?

146My lord, we have

147Stood here observing him: some strange commotion

148Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;

149Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,

150Then lays his finger on his temple, straight

151Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,

152Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts

153His eye against the moon: in most strange postures

154We have seen him set himself.

155It may well be;

156There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning

157Papers of state he sent me to peruse,

158As I required: and wot you what I found

159There,--on my conscience, put unwittingly?

160Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing;

161The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,

162Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which

163I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks

164Possession of a subject.

165It's heaven's will:

166Some spirit put this paper in the packet,

167To bless your eye withal.

168If we did think

169His contemplation were above the earth,

170And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still

171Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid

172His thinkings are below the moon, not worth

173His serious considering.

174Heaven forgive me!

175Ever God bless your highness!

176Good my lord,

177You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory

178Of your best graces in your mind; the which

179You were now running o'er: you have scarce time

180To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span

181To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that

182I deem you an ill husband, and am glad

183To have you therein my companion.

184Sir,

185For holy offices I have a time; a time

186To think upon the part of business which

187I bear i' the state; and nature does require

188Her times of preservation, which perforce

189I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,

190Must give my tendence to.

191You have said well.

192And ever may your highness yoke together,

193As I will lend you cause, my doing well

194With my well saying!

195'Tis well said again;

196And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:

197And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you:

198His said he did; and with his deed did crown

199His word upon you. Since I had my office,

200I have kept you next my heart; have not alone

201Employ'd you where high profits might come home,

202But pared my present havings, to bestow

203My bounties upon you.

204[Aside] What should this mean?

205[Aside] The Lord increase this business!

206Have I not made you,

207The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me,

208If what I now pronounce you have found true:

209And, if you may confess it, say withal,

210If you are bound to us or no. What say you?

211My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,

212Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could

213My studied purposes requite; which went

214Beyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours

215Have ever come too short of my desires,

216Yet filed with my abilities: mine own ends

217Have been mine so that evermore they pointed

218To the good of your most sacred person and

219The profit of the state. For your great graces

220Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I

221Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,

222My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,

223Which ever has and ever shall be growing,

224Till death, that winter, kill it.

225Fairly answer'd;

226A loyal and obedient subject is

227Therein illustrated: the honour of it

228Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,

229The foulness is the punishment. I presume

230That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,

231My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more

232On you than any; so your hand and heart,

233Your brain, and every function of your power,

234Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,

235As 'twere in love's particular, be more

236To me, your friend, than any.

237I do profess

238That for your highness' good I ever labour'd

239More than mine own; that am, have, and will be--

240Though all the world should crack their duty to you,

241And throw it from their soul; though perils did

242Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and

243Appear in forms more horrid,--yet my duty,

244As doth a rock against the chiding flood,

245Should the approach of this wild river break,

246And stand unshaken yours.

247'Tis nobly spoken:

248Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,

249For you have seen him open't. Read o'er this;

250And after, this: and then to breakfast with

251What appetite you have.

252What should this mean?

253What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?

254He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

255Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion

256Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;

257Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;

258I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so;

259This paper has undone me: 'tis the account

260Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together

261For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,

262And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!

263Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil

264Made me put this main secret in the packet

265I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?

266No new device to beat this from his brains?

267I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know

268A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune

269Will bring me off again. What's this? 'To the Pope!'

270The letter, as I live, with all the business

271I writ to's holiness. Nay then, farewell!

272I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;

273And, from that full meridian of my glory,

274I haste now to my setting: I shall fall

275Like a bright exhalation m the evening,

276And no man see me more.

277Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you

278To render up the great seal presently

279Into our hands; and to confine yourself

280To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's,

281Till you hear further from his highness.

282Stay:

283Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry

284Authority so weighty.

285Who dare cross 'em,

286Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?

287Till I find more than will or words to do it,

288I mean your malice, know, officious lords,

289I dare and must deny it. Now I feel

290Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy:

291How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,

292As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton

293Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin!

294Follow your envious courses, men of malice;

295You have Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,

296In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,

297You ask with such a violence, the king,

298Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me;

299Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,

300During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,

301Tied it by letters-patents: now, who'll take it?

302The king, that gave it.

303It must be himself, then.

304Thou art a proud traitor, priest.

305Proud lord, thou liest:

306Within these forty hours Surrey durst better

307Have burnt that tongue than said so.

308Thy ambition,

309Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land

310Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:

311The heads of all thy brother cardinals,

312With thee and all thy best parts bound together,

313Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!

314You sent me deputy for Ireland;

315Far from his succor, from the king, from all

316That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him;

317Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,

318Absolved him with an axe.

319This, and all else

320This talking lord can lay upon my credit,

321I answer is most false. The duke by law

322Found his deserts: how innocent I was

323From any private malice in his end,

324His noble jury and foul cause can witness.

325If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you

326You have as little honesty as honour,

327That in the way of loyalty and truth

328Toward the king, my ever royal master,

329Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,

330And all that love his follies.

331By my soul,

332Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou

333shouldst feel

334My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords,

335Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?

336And from this fellow? if we live thus tamely,

337To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,

338Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,

339And dare us with his cap like larks.

340All goodness

341Is poison to thy stomach.

342Yes, that goodness

343Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,

344Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;

345The goodness of your intercepted packets

346You writ to the pope against the king: your goodness,

347Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.

348My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,

349As you respect the common good, the state

350Of our despised nobility, our issues,

351Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,

352Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles

353Collected from his life. I'll startle you

354Worse than the scaring bell, when the brown wench

355Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

356How much, methinks, I could despise this man,

357But that I am bound in charity against it!

358Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand:

359But, thus much, they are foul ones.

360So much fairer

361And spotless shall mine innocence arise,

362When the king knows my truth.

363This cannot save you:

364I thank my memory, I yet remember

365Some of these articles; and out they shall.

366Now, if you can blush and cry 'guilty,' cardinal,

367You'll show a little honesty.

368Speak on, sir;

369I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

370It is to see a nobleman want manners.

371I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!

372First, that, without the king's assent or knowledge,

373You wrought to be a legate; by which power

374You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

375Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else

376To foreign princes, 'Ego et Rex meus'

377Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king

378To be your servant.

379Then that, without the knowledge

380Either of king or council, when you went

381Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold

382To carry into Flanders the great seal.

383Item, you sent a large commission

384To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,

385Without the king's will or the state's allowance,

386A league between his highness and Ferrara.

387That, out of mere ambition, you have caused

388Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.

389Then that you have sent innumerable substance--

390By what means got, I leave to your own conscience--

391To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways

392You have for dignities; to the mere undoing

393Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;

394Which, since they are of you, and odious,

395I will not taint my mouth with.

396O my lord,

397Press not a falling man too far! 'tis virtue:

398His faults lie open to the laws; let them,

399Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him

400So little of his great self.

401I forgive him.

402Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,

403Because all those things you have done of late,

404By your power legatine, within this kingdom,

405Fall into the compass of a praemunire,

406That therefore such a writ be sued against you;

407To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,

408Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be

409Out of the king's protection. This is my charge.

410And so we'll leave you to your meditations

411How to live better. For your stubborn answer

412About the giving back the great seal to us,

413The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.

414So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.

415So farewell to the little good you bear me.

416Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!