ACT III.
Scene I. London. The Queen's apartments.
The Queen and her Women, as at work.[441]
Sing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave working.[443]
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing; 5
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung, as sun and showers[444]
There had made a lasting spring.[445]
Even the billows of the sea, 10
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart[446]
Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Enter a Gentleman.
Wait in the presence.
Enter the two Cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius.[451]
I would be all, against the worst may happen.[452] 25
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?[453]
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, 30
Deserves a corner: would all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
My lords, I care not, so much I am happy
Above a number, if my actions
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em, 35
Envy and base opinion set against 'em,
I know my life so even. If your business[454]
Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,[454][455]
Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.
I am not such a truant since my coming,
As not to know the language I have lived in:
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious;[457] 45
Pray speak in English: here are some will thank you,
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed
May be absolved in English.
I am sorry my integrity should breed,[458]
And service to his majesty and you,[459]
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.[459]
We come not by the way of accusation,
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, 55
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow—
You have too much, good lady—but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you, and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions 60
And comforts to your cause.
My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Both of his truth and him, which was too far, 65
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.
My lords, I thank you both for your good wills;
Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so!
But how to make ye suddenly an answer, 70
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,
More near my life, I fear, with my weak wit,
And to such men of gravity and learning,
In truth, I know not. I was set at work
Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking 75
Either for such men or such business.
For her sake that I have been—for I feel
The last fit of my greatness—good your graces,
Let me have time and counsel for my cause:[462]
Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless! 80
Your hopes and friends are infinite.
But little for my profit: can you think, lords,[465]
That any Englishman dare give me counsel?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure—[466] 85
Though he be grown so desperate to be honest—
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,[467]
They that must weigh out my afflictions,[468]
They that my trust must grow to, live not here:
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence[469] 90
In mine own country, lords.
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
He's loving and most gracious: 'twill be much
Both for your honour better and your cause;[470] 95
For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,
You'll part away disgraced.
Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge 100
That no king can corrupt.
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye:[472][473]
Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?[474] 105
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish ye half my miseries;
I have more charity: but say, I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once[475] 110
The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.
You turn the good we offer into envy.
And all such false professors! would you have me— 115
If you have any justice, any pity,
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits—[477]
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas, has banish'd me his bed already,[478]
His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords,[479] 120
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience. What can happen[480]
To me above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.
Since virtue finds no friends—a wife, a true one?
A woman, I dare say without vain-glory,
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? loved him next heaven? obey'd him? 130
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, 135
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.
To give up willingly that noble title 140
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.[485] 145
What will become of me now, wretched lady![486]
I am the most unhappy woman living.
Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes![487]
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me; 150
Almost no grave allow'd me: like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head and perish.
Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,
You'ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,[488] 155
Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places,
The way of our profession is against it:
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em.[489]
For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly[490] 160
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.[491]
I know you have a gentle, noble temper,[492] 165
A soul as even as a calm: pray think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends and servants.
With these weak women's fears: a noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts 170
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;[494]
Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please[495]
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.
If I have used myself unmannerly;[497]
You know I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray do my service to his majesty:
He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers 180
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers.
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear. [Exeunt.
Scene II. Ante-chamber to the King's apartment.
Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.[498]
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: if you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise
But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces,[499] 5
With these you bear already.
To meet the least occasion that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be revenged on him.
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least[500] 10
Strangely neglected? when did he regard[501]
The stamp of nobleness in any person[502]
Out of himself?[502]
What he deserves of you and me I know;
What we can do to him, though now the time 15
Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot[503]
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in's tongue.
His spell in that is out: the king hath found 20
Matter against him that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears
As I would wish mine enemy.[505]
And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read[508]
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgement o' the divorce; for if
It did take place, 'I do' quoth he 'perceive
My king is tangled in affection to 35
A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'
And hedges his own way. But in this point[510]
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic 40
After his patient's death: the king already
Hath married the fair lady.
For, I profess, you have it.
Trace the conjunction!
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left[513]
To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her 50
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memorized.
There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose[516] 55
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;[517]
Has left the cause o' the king unhandled, and[518]
Is posted as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you 60
The king cried 'Ha!' at this.
And let him cry 'Ha!' louder!
When returns Cranmer?
Have satisfied the king for his divorce, 65
Together with all famous colleges[520]
Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager 70
And widow to Prince Arthur.[521]
For it an archbishop.
The cardinal!
Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
He did unseal them, and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed 80
Was in his countenance. You he bade[527]
Attend him here this morning.[528]
[Aside] It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,[529] 85
The French king's sister: he shall marry her.
Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:
There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen![530]
No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke! 90
Does whet his anger to him.
Lord, for thy justice!
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen! 95
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous
And well deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of[532] 100
Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up[532]
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Enter King, reading of a schedule, and Lovell.
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour[536]
Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,
Does he rake this together! Now, my lords, 110
Saw you the cardinal?
Stood here observing him: some strange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;[537]
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight 115
Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts[538][539]
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures[539]
We have seen him set himself.[539][540]
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning[541] 120
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I required: and wot you what I found
There, on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, 125
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household, which
I find at such proud rate that it out-speaks[542]
Possession of a subject.
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.
[King takes his seat; whispers Lovell, who goes to the Cardinal.