Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies Published according to the true originall copies.

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1.

Whether away so fast?

2.

O, God saue ye: Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

1.

Ile saue you That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the Prisoner.

2.

Were you there?

1.

Yes indeed was I.

2.

Pray speake what ha's happen'd.

1.

You may guesse quickly what.

2.

Is he found guilty?

1.

Yes truely is he, And condemn'd vpon't.

2.

I am sorry fort.

1.

So are a number more.

2.

But pray how past it?

1.

Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law. The Kings Atturney on the contrary, Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions

Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd To him brought vina voce to his face; At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, Hopkins, that made this mischiefe.

2.

That was hee That fed him with his Prophecies.

1.

The same, All these accus'd him strongly, which ••e faine Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not; And so his Peeres vpon this euidence, Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all Was either pittied in him, or forgotten.

2.

After all this, how did he beare himselfe?

••.

When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly, And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly, In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience,

2.

I doe not thinke he feares death.

1.

Sure he does not, He neuer was so womanish, the cause He may a little grieue at.

2.

Certainly, The Cardinall is the end of this.

1.

Tis likely, By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, Least he should helpe his Father.

2.

That tricke of State Was a deepe enuious one,

1.

At his returne, No doubt he will requite it; this is noted (And generally) who euer the King fauours, The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, And farre enough from Court too.

2.

All the Commons Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham, The Mirror of all courtesie.

Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, the Axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.

1.

Stay there Sir, And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of.

2.

Let's stand close and behold him.

Buck

All good people, You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me. I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement, And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me, Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull. The Law I beare no mallice for my death, T' has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue'em; Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe; Nor build their euils on the graues of great men; For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em. For further life in this world I ne're hope, Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercie•• More then I dare make faults. You few that lou'd me, And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue Is only bitter to him, only dying: Goe with me like good Angels to my end, And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice, And lift my Soule to Heauen. Lead on a Gods name.

Louell.

I doe beseech your Grace, for charity If euer any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly.

Buck.

Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all. There cannot be those numberlesse offences Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue. Commend mee to his Grace: And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares; Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument.

Lou.

To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Ʋaux, Who vndertakes you to your end.

Vaux.

Prepare there, The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suites The Greatnesse of his Person.

Buck.

Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun; Yet I am richer then my base Accusers, That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; And with that bloud will make'em one day groane for't. My noble Father Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard, Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister, Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne, Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken For euer from the World. I had my Tryall, And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me A little happier then my wretched Father: Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most: A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me, This from a dying man receiue as certaine: Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends,

And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, neuer found againe But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre Of my long weary life is come vpon me: Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, Speake how I fell. I haue done; and God forgiue me.

Exeunt Duke and Traine.

1.

O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals I feare, too many curse•• on their heads That were the Authors.

2.

If the Duke be guiltlesse, 'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling Of an ensuing euill, if it fall, Greater then this.

1.

Good Angels keepe it from vs: What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?

2.

This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceale it.

1.

Let me haue it: I doe not talke much.

2.

I am confident; You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare A buzzing of a Separation Betweene the King and Katherine?

1.

Yes, but it held not; For when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues That durst disperse it.

2.

But that slander Sir, Is found a truth now: for it growes agen Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall, Or some about him neere, haue out of malice To the good Queene▪ possest him with a scruple That will vndoe her: To confirme this too, Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately, As all thinke for this busines.

1.

Tis the Cardinall; And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, For not bestowing on him at his asking, The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2.

I thinke You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell, That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall Will haue his will, and she must fall.

1.

'Tis wofull. Wee are too open heere to argue this: Let's thinke in priuate more.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.

MY Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinalls, b•• Commission, and maine power tooke 'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd be∣fore a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes Sir.

I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee will haue all I thinke.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Nor∣folke and Suffolke.

Norf.

Well met my Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham.

Good day to both your Graces.

Suff.

How is the King imployd?

Cham.

I left him priuate, Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Norf.

What's the cause?

Cham.

It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife Ha's crept too neere his Conscience.

Suff.

No, his Conscience Ha's crept too neere another Ladie.

Norf.

Tis so; This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall, That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day.

Suff.

Pray God he doe, Hee'l neuer know himselfe else.

Norf.

How holily he workes in all his businesse, And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew) He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage. And out of all these, to restore the King, He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre; Of her that loues him with that excellence, That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her, That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?

Cham.

Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em, And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon This bold bad man.

Suff.

And free vs from his slauery.

Norf.

We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliuerance; Or this imperious man will worke vs all From Princes into Pages: all mens honours Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please.

Suff.

For me, my Lords, I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede: As I am made without him, so Ile stand, If the King please: his Curses and his blessings Touch me alike: th' are breath I not beleeue in. I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him To him that made him proud; the Pope.

Norf.

Let's in; And with some other busines, put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him: My Lord, youle beare vs company?

Cham.

Excuse me, The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him: Health to your Lordships.

Norfolke.

Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading pensiuely.

Suff.

How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted.

Kin.

Who's there? Ha?

Norff.

Pray God he be not angry.

Kin.

Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues Into my priuate Meditations? Who am I? Ha?

Norff.

A gracious King, that pardons all offences Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way▪ Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come To know your Royall pleasure.

Kin.

Ye are too bold: Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?

Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.

Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded Conscience; Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome, Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, I be not found a Talker.

Wol.

Sir, you cannot; I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference.

Kin.

We are busie; goe.

Norff.

This Priest ha's no pride in him?

Suff.

Not to speake of: I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue.

Norff.

If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him.

Suff.

I another.

Exeunt Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol.

Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voyc•• of Christendome: Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse.

Kin.

And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for.

Cam.

Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse.

Kin.

Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquain∣ted Forth with for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol.

I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her So deare in heart, not to deny her that A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her.

Kin.

I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that doe•• best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. I find him a fit fellow.

Enter Gardiner.

Wol.

Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; You are the Kings now.

Gard.

But to be commanded For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me.

Kin.

Come hither Gardiner.

Walkes and whispers.

Camp.

My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pa••e In this mans place before him?

Wol.

Yes, he was.

Camp.

Was he not held a learned man?

Wol.

Yes surely.

Camp.

Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then, Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall.

Wol.

How? of me?

Camp

They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him, That he ran mad, and dide.

Wol.

Heau'ns peace be with him: That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

Kin.

Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.

Exit Gardiner.

The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty busines. My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord, Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

An.

Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty Would moue a Monster.

Old La.

Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her.

An.

Oh Gods will, much better She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soule and bodies seuering.

Old L.

Alas poore Lady, Shee's a stranger now againe.

An.

So much the more Must pitty drop vpon her; verily I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,

And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow.

Old L.

Our content Is our best hauing.

Anne.

By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queene.

Old. L.

Beshrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of your Hipocrisie: You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please to stretch it.

Anne.

Nay, good troth.

Old L.

Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?

Anne.

No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen.

Old. L.

Tis strange; a three pence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs To beare that load of Title?

An.

No in truth.

Old. L.

Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy.

An.

How you doe talke; I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world:

Old. L.

In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L. Cham.

Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know The secret of your conference?

An.

My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying.

Cham.

It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well.

An.

Now I pray God, Amen.

Cham.

You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes.

An.

I doe not know What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blush••ng Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for.

Cham.

Lady; I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And say I spoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An.

My honour'd Lord.

Old. L.

Why this it is: See, see, I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pound••: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it.

An.

This is strange to me.

Old L.

How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?

An.

Come you are pleasant.

Old. L.

With your Theame, I could O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were?

An.

Good Lady, Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a ••ot; it faints me To thinke what followes. The Queene is comfortlesse, and w••e forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y' haue heard to her.

Old L.

What doe you thinke me —

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets.

Enter two Vergers, with shōt siluer wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors▪ after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bea∣ring each a Siluer Crosse: Then a Gentleman Vsher bare-headed, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some di∣stance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.

Car.

Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read; Let silence be commanded.

King.

What's the need? It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th' Authority allow'd, You may then spare that time.

Car.

Bee't so, proceed.

Scri.

Say, Henry K. of England, come into the Court.

Crier.

Henry King of England, &c.

King.

Heere.

Scribe.

Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court.

Crier.

Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.

Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on me; for I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what haue I offended you? What cause Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to your will conformable: Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre I euer contradicted your Desire? Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty yeares, and haue bene blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your Father, was reputed for A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many A yeare before. It is not to be question'd, That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them Of euery Realme▪ that did debate this Businesse, Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God Your pleasure be fulfill'd.

Wol.

You haue heere Lady. (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning; Yea, the elect o' th' Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your owne quiet, as to rectifie What is vnsetled in the King.

Camp.

His Grace Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It's fit this Royall Session do proceed, And that (without delay) their Arguments Be now produc'd, and heard.

Qu.

Lord Cardinall, to you I speake.

Wol.

Your pleasure, Madam.

Qu.

Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire.

Wol.

Be patient yet.

Qu.

I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me. I do beleeue (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth.

Wol.

I do professe You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome, Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistorie, Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much As you haue done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knowes I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, And to say so no more.

Queen.

My Lord, my Lord, I am a simple woman, much too weake T' oppose your cunning. Y' are meek, & humble-mouth'd You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor, then Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, And to be iudg'd by him.

She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp.

The Queene is obstinate, Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well. Shee's going away.

Kin.

Call her againe.

Crier.

Katherine▪ Q of England, come into the Court.

Gent.

Ʋsh. Madam, you are cald backe.

Que.

What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more Vpon this businesse my appearance make, In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin.

Goe thy wayes Kate, That man i' th' world, who shall report he ha's A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Soueraigne and Piousels, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha's Carried her selfe towards me.

Wol.

Most gracious Sir, In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound, There must I be vnloos'd, although not there At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or Laid any scruple in your way which might Induce you to the question on't: or euer Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person?

Kin.

My Lord Cardinall, I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, I free you from't: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies, that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y' are excus'd: But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him. Now, what mou'd me too't, I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't: My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on the debating And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter Mary: I' th' Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution, hee (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me; Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings, did throng And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life too't; then The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue, Or di'de where they were made, ot shortly after This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome (Well worthy the best Heyre o' th' World) should not Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present heere together: that's to say, I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke When I first mou'd you.

B. Lin.

Very well my Liedge.

Kin.

I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say How farre you satisfide me.

Lin.

So please your Highnes, The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a State of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you are running heere.

Kin.

I then mou'd you, My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; But by particular consent proceeded Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i' th' world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life And Kingly Dignity, we are contented To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature That's Parragon'd o' th' World

Camp.

So please your Highnes, The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his Holinesse.

Kin.

I may perceiue These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; I say, set on.

Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.