
< Shakespeare -- THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF KING HENRY VIII >
< from Online Library of Liberty (http://oll.libertyfund.org) >
< Unicode .txt version by Mike Scott (http://www.lexically.net) >
< from "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare" >
< ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. >
< (London: Oxford University Press, 1916) >
<STAGE DIR>
<Scene.—Chiefly in London and Westminster; once, at Kimbolton.>
</STAGE DIR>


<PROLOGUE>
	I come no more to make you laugh: things now,
	That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
	Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
	Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
	We now present. Those that can pity, here
	May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;
	The subject will deserve it. Such as give
	Their money out of hope they may believe,
	May here find truth too. Those that come to see
	Only a show or two, and so agree
	The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
	I'll undertake may see away their shilling
	Richly in two short hours. Only they
	That come to hear a merry, bawdy play,
	A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
	In a long molley coat guarded with yellow,
	Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know,
	To rank our chosen truth with such a show
	As fool and fight is, besides forfeiting
	Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
	To make that only true we now intend,
	Will leave us never an understanding friend.
	Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
	The first and happiest hearers of the town,
	Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see
	The very persons of our noble story
	As they were living; think you see them great,
	And follow'd with the general throng and sweat
	Of thousand friends; then, in a moment see
	How soon this mightiness meets misery:
	And if you can be merry then, I'll say
	A man may weep upon his wedding day.

</PROLOGUE>


<ACT 1>


<SCENE 1>
<London. An Antechamber in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter at one door the Duke of Norfolk; at the other,...>
<... the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny.>
</STAGE DIR>
<BUCKINGHAM>	<1%>
	Good morrow, and well met. How have you done,
	Since last we saw in France?
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<1%>
	I thank your Grace,
	Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer
	Of what I saw there.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<1%>
	An untimely ague
	Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
	Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
	Met in the vale of Andren.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<2%>
	'Twixt Guynes and Arde:
	I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;
	Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
	In their embracement, as they grew together;
	Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd
	Such a compounded one?
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<2%>
	All the whole time
	I was my chamber's prisoner.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<2%>
	Then you lost
	The view of earthly glory: men might say,
	Till this time, pomp was single, but now married
	To one above itself. Each following day
	Became the next day's master, till the last
	Made former wonders its. To-day the French
	All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
	Shone down the English; and to-morrow they
	Made Britain India: every man that stood
	Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
	As cherubins, all gilt: the madams, too,
	Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
	The pride upon them, that their very labour
	Was to them as a painting. Now this masque
	Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night
	Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,
	Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
	As presence did present them; him in eye,
	Still him in praise; and, being present both,
	'Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner
	Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns—
	For so they phrase 'em—by their heralds challeng'd
	The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
	Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,
	Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
	That Bevis was believ'd.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<3%>
	O! you go far.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<3%>
	As I belong to worship, and affect
	In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
	Would by a good discourser lose some life,
	Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;
	To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
	Order gave each thing view; the office did
	Distinctly his full function.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<3%>
	Who did guide,
	I mean, who set the body and the limbs
	Of this great sport together, as you guess?
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<3%>
	One certes, that promises no element
	In such a business.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<3%>
	I pray you, who, my lord?
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<3%>
	All this was order'd by the good discretion
	Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<3%>
	The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed
	From his ambitious finger. What had he
	To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
	That such a keech can with his very bulk
	Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun,
	And keep it from the earth.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<3%>
	Surely, sir,
	There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
	For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace
	Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon
	For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
	To eminent assistants; but, spider-like,
	Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,
	The force of his own merit makes his way;
	A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
	A place next to the king.
</NORFOLK>

<ABERGAVENNY>	<3%>
	I cannot tell
	What heaven hath given him: let some graver eye
	Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
	Peep through each part of him: whence has he that?
	If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,
	Or has given all before, and he begins
	A new hell in himself.
</ABERGAVENNY>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<4%>
	Why the devil,
	Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
	Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
	Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
	Of all the gentry; for the most part such
	To whom as great a charge as little honour
	He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,—
	The honourable board of council out,—
	Must fetch him in he papers.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<ABERGAVENNY>	<4%>
	I do know
	Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
	By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
	They shall abound as formerly.
</ABERGAVENNY>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<4%>
	O! many
	Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
	For this great journey. What did this vanity
	But minister communication of
	A most poor issue?
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<4%>
	Grievingly I think,
	The peace between the French and us not values
	The cost that did conclude it.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<4%>
	Every man,
	After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
	A thing inspir'd; and, not consulting, broke
	Into a general prophecy: That this tempest,
	Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
	The sudden breach on't.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<4%>
	Which is budded out;
	For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd
	Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
</NORFOLK>

<ABERGAVENNY>	<4%>
	Is it therefore
	The ambassador is silenc'd?
</ABERGAVENNY>

<NORFOLK>	<4%>
	Marry, is't.
</NORFOLK>

<ABERGAVENNY>	<4%>
	A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd
	At a superfluous rate!
</ABERGAVENNY>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<4%>
	Why, all this business
	Our reverend cardinal carried.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<5%>
	Like it your Grace,
	The state takes notice of the private difference
	Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,—
	And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
	Honour and plenteous safety,—that you read
	The cardinal's malice and his potency
	Together; to consider further that
	What his high hatred would effect wants not
	A minister in his power. You know his nature,
	That he's revengeful; and I know his sword
	Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and 't may be said,
	It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
	Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
	You'll find it wholesome. Lo where comes that rock
	That I advise your shunning.

</NORFOLK>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Cardinal Wolsey,—the Purse borne before him,—certain...>
<... of the Guard, and two Secretaries with papers....>
<... The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on...>
<... Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WOLSEY>	<5%>
	The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?
	Where's his examination?
</WOLSEY>

<SECRETARY 1>	<5%>
	Here, so please you.
</SECRETARY 1>

<WOLSEY>	<5%>
	Is he in person ready?
</WOLSEY>

<SECRETARY 1>	<5%>
	Ay, please your Grace.
</SECRETARY 1>

<WOLSEY>	<5%>
	Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
	Shall lessen this big look.
</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt. Wolsey, and Train.>
</STAGE DIR>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<5%>
	This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I
	Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best
	Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
	Outworths a noble's blood.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<5%>
	What! are you chaf'd?
	Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only
	Which your disease requires.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<6%>
	I read in's looks
	Matter against me; and his eye revil'd
	Me, as his abject object: at this instant
	He bores me with some trick: he's gone to the king;
	I'll follow, and out-stare him.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<6%>
	Stay, my lord,
	And let your reason with your choler question
	What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills
	Requires slow pace at first: anger is like
	A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
	Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
	Can advise me like you: be to yourself
	As you would to your friend.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<6%>
	I'll to the king;
	And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
	This Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaim
	There's difference in no persons.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<6%>
	Be advis'd;
	Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
	That it do singe yourself. We may outrun
	By violent swiftness that which we run at,
	And lose by overrunning. Know you not,
	The fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'er,
	In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advis'd:
	I say again, there is no English soul
	More stronger to direct you than yourself,
	If with the sap of reason you would quench,
	Or but allay, the fire of passion.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<6%>
	Sir,
	I am thankful to you, and I'll go along
	By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow
	Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
	From sincere motions,—by intelligence,
	And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
	We see each grain of gravel,—I do know
	To be corrupt and treasonous.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<6%>
	Say not, 'treasonous.'
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<7%>
	To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong
	As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
	Or wolf, or both,—for he is equal ravenous
	As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief
	As able to perform 't, his mind and place
	Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,
	Only to show his pomp as well in France
	As here at home, suggests the king our master
	To this last costly treaty, the interview,
	That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
	Did break i' the rinsing.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<7%>
	Faith, and so it did.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<7%>
	Praygive me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
	The articles o' the combination drew
	As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified
	As he cried, 'Thus let be,' to as much end
	As give a crutch to the dead. But our count-cardinal
	Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
	Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,—
	Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
	To the old dam, treason, Charles the emperor,
	Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,—
	For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
	To whisper Wolsey,—here makes visitation:
	His fears were, that the interview betwixt
	England and France might, through their amity,
	Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
	Peep'd harms that menac'd him. He privily
	Deals with our cardinal, and, as I trow,
	Which I do well; for, I am sure the emperor
	Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted
	Ere it was ask'd; but when the way was made,
	And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd:
	That he would please to alter the king's course,
	And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know—
	As soon he shall by me—that thus the cardinal
	Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
	And for his own advantage.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<NORFOLK>	<8%>
	I am sorry
	To hear this of him; and could wish he were
	Something mistaken in 't.
</NORFOLK>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<8%>
	No, not a syllable:
	I do pronounce him in that very shape
	He shall appear in proof.

</BUCKINGHAM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Brandon; a Sergeant-at-Arms before him.>
</STAGE DIR>
<BRANDON>	<8%>
	Your office, sergeant; execute it.
</BRANDON>

<SERGEANT>	<8%>
	Sir,
	My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
	Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
	Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
	Of our most sovereign king.
</SERGEANT>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<8%>
	Lo you, my lord,
	The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish
	Under device and practice.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<BRANDON>	<8%>
	I am sorry
	To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
	The business present. 'Tis his highness' pleasure
	You shall to the Tower.
</BRANDON>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<8%>
	It will help me nothing
	To plead mine innocence, for that dye is on me
	Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heaven
	Be done in this and all things! I obey.
	O! my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!
</BUCKINGHAM>

<BRANDON>	<8%>
	Nay, he must bear you company. <STAGE DIR>
<To Abergavenny.>
</STAGE DIR> The king
	Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know
	How he determines further.
</BRANDON>

<ABERGAVENNY>	<8%>
	As the duke said,
	The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
	By me obey'd!
</ABERGAVENNY>

<BRANDON>	<8%>
	Here is a warrant from
	The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies
	Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
	One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,—
</BRANDON>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<9%>
	So, so;
	These are the limbs o' the plot: no more, I hope.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<BRANDON>	<9%>
	A monk o' the Chartreux.
</BRANDON>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<9%>
	O! Nicholas Hopkins?
</BUCKINGHAM>

<BRANDON>	<9%>
	He.
</BRANDON>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<9%>
	My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal
	Hath show'd him gold. My life is spann'd already:
	I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
	Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,
	By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell.
</BUCKINGHAM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<The Council Chamber.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the King, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder,...>
<... the Lords of the Council, Sir Thomas Lovell, Officers,...>
<... and Attendants. The Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on the right side.>
</STAGE DIR>
<K. HENRY>	<9%>
	My life itself, and the best heart of it,
	Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level
	Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
	To you that chok'd it. Let be call'd before us
	That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person
	I'll hear him his confessions justify;
	And point by point the treasons of his master
	He shall again relate.

</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<A noise within, crying, 'Room for the Queen!' Enter...>
<... Queen Katharine, ushered by the Dukes of Norfolk...>
<... and Suffolk: she kneels. The King riseth from...>
<... his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him.>
</STAGE DIR>
<KATHARINE>	<9%>
	Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<9%>
	Arise, and take place by us: half your suit
	Never name to us; you have half our power:
	The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
	Repeat your will, and take it.
</K. HENRY>

<KATHARINE>	<10%>
	Thank your majesty.
	That you would love yourself, and in that love
	Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
	The dignity of your office, is the point
	Of my petition.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<10%>
	Lady mine, proceed.
</K. HENRY>

<KATHARINE>	<10%>
	I am solicited, not by a few,
	And those of true condition, that your subjects
	Are in great grievance: there have been commissions
	Sent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
	Of all their loyalties: wherein, although,
	My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches
	Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
	Of these exactions, yet the king our master,—
	Whose honour heaven shield from soil!—even he escapes not
	Language unmannerly; yea, such which breaks
	The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
	In loud rebellion.
</KATHARINE>

<NORFOLK>	<10%>
	Not almost appears,
	It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,
	The clothiers all, not able to maintain
	The many to them 'longing, have put off
	The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
	Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
	And lack of other means, in desperate manner
	Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
	And danger serves among them.
</NORFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<10%>
	Taxation!
	Wherein? and what taxation? My Lord Cardinal,
	You that are blam'd for it alike with us,
	Know you of this taxation?
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<10%>
	Please you, sir,
	I know but of a single part in aught
	Pertains to the state; and front but in that file
	Where others tell steps with me.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<11%>
	No, my lord,
	You know no more than others; but you frame
	Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome
	To those which would not know them, and yet must
	Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
	Whereof my sov'reign would have note, they are
	Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear 'em,
	The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
	They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer
	Too hard an exclamation.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<11%>
	Still exaction!
	The nature of it? In what kind, let's know,
	Is this exaction?
</K. HENRY>

<KATHARINE>	<11%>
	I am much too venturous
	In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd
	Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects' grief
	Comes through commissions, which compel from each
	The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
	Without delay; and the pretence for this
	Is nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold mouths:
	Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
	Allegiance in them; their curses now
	Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass,
	This tractable obedience is a slave
	To each incensed will. I would your highness
	Would give it quick consideration, for
	There is no primer business.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<11%>
	By my life,
	This is against our pleasure.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<11%>
	And for me,
	I have no further gone in this than by
	A single voice, and that not pass'd me but
	By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
	Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know
	My faculties nor person, yet will be
	The chronicles of my doing, let me say
	'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
	That virtue must go through. We must not stint
	Our necessary actions, in the fear
	To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
	As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow
	That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further
	Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
	By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
	Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,
	Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
	For our best act. If we shall stand still,
	In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
	We should take root here where we sit, or sit
	State-statues only.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<12%>
	Things done well,
	And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
	Things done without example, in their issue
	Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
	Of this commission? I believe, not any.
	We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
	And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
	A trembling contribution! Why, we take
	From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber;
	And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
	The air will drink the sap. To every county
	Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
	Free pardon to each man that has denied
	The force of this commission. Pray, look to 't;
	I put it to your care.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<12%>
<STAGE DIR>
<To the Secretary.>
</STAGE DIR> A word with you.
	Let there be letters writ to every shire,
	Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons
	Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd
	That through our intercession this revokement
	And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
	Further in the proceeding.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Secretary.>
</STAGE DIR>

</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Surveyor.>
</STAGE DIR>
<KATHARINE>	<13%>
	I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
	Is run in your displeasure.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<13%>
	It grieves many:
	The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker,
	To nature none more bound; his training such
	That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
	And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,
	When these so noble benefits shall prove
	Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
	They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
	Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
	Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
	Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find
	His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
	Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
	That once were his, and is become as black
	As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear—
	This was his gentleman in trust—of him
	Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount
	The fore-recited practices; whereof
	We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<13%>
	Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what you,
	Most like a careful subject, have collected
	Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<13%>
	Speak freely.
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<13%>
	First, it was usual with him, every day
	It would infect his speech, that if the king
	Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
	To make the sceptre his. These very words
	I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
	Lord Abergavenny, to whom by oath he menac'd
	Revenge upon the cardinal.
</SURVEYOR>

<WOLSEY>	<14%>
	Please your highness, note
	This dangerous conception in this point.
	Not friended by his wish, to your high person
	His will is most malignant; and it stretches
	Beyond you, to your friends.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<14%>
	My learn'd Lord Cardinal,
	Deliver all with charity.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<14%>
	Speak on:
	How grounded he his title to the crown
	Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
	At any time speak aught?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<14%>
	He was brought to this
	By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<14%>
	What was that Hopkins?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<14%>
	Sir, a Chartreux friar,
	His confessor, who fed him every minute
	With words of sovereignty.
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<14%>
	How know'st thou this?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<14%>
	Not long before your highness sped to France,
	The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
	Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
	What was the speech among the Londoners
	Concerning the French journey: I replied,
	Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
	To the king's danger. Presently the duke
	Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted
	'Twould prove the verity of certain words
	Spoke by a holy monk; 'that oft,' says he,
	'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
	John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
	To hear from him a matter of some moment:
	Whom after under the confession's seal
	He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke,
	My chaplain to no creature living but
	To me should utter, with demure confidence
	This pausingly ensu'd: neither the king nor 's heirs—
	Tell you the duke—shall prosper: bid him strive
	To gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke
	Shall govern England.'
</SURVEYOR>

<KATHARINE>	<15%>
	If I know you well,
	You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
	On the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed
	You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
	And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed;
	Yes, heartily beseech you.
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<15%>
	Let him on.
	Go forward.
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<15%>
	On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
	I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
	The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangerous for him
	To ruminate on this so far, until
	It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
	It was much like to do. He answer'd, 'Tush!
	It can do me no damage;' adding further,
	That had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
	The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
	Should have gone off.
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<15%>
	Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!
	There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<15%>
	I can, my liege.
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<15%>
	Proceed.
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<15%>
	Being at Greenwich,
	After your highness had reprov'd the duke
	About Sir William Blomer,—
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<15%>
	I remember
	Of such a time: being my sworn servant,
	The duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<15%>
	'If,' quoth he, 'I for this had been committed,
	As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd
	The part my father meant to act upon
	The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,
	Made suit to come in 's presence; which if granted,
	As he made semblance of his duty, would
	Have put his knife into him.'
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<16%>
	A giant traitor!
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<16%>
	Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
	And this man out of prison?
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<16%>
	God mend all!
</KATHARINE>

<K. HENRY>	<16%>
	There's something more would out of thee? what sayst?
</K. HENRY>

<SURVEYOR>	<16%>
	After 'the duke his father,' with 'the knife,'
	He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,
	Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
	He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour
	Was, were he evil us'd, he would outgo
	His father by as much as a performance
	Does an irresolute purpose.
</SURVEYOR>

<K. HENRY>	<16%>
	There's his period;
	To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd;
	Call him to present trial: if he may
	Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
	Let him not seek't of us: by day and night!
	He's traitor to the height.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<A Room in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHAMBERLAIN>	<16%>
	Is't possible the spells of France should juggle
	Men into such strange mysteries?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<16%>
	New customs,
	Though they be never so ridiculous,
	Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<16%>
	As far as I see, all the good our English
	Have got by the late voyage is but merely
	A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;
	For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly
	Their very noses had been counsellors
	To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<16%>
	They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,
	That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
	Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<17%>
	Death! my lord,
	Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
	That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.>
</STAGE DIR>
	How now!
</CHAMBERLAIN>
	What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
<LOVELL>	<17%>
	Faith, my lord,
	I hear of none, but the new proclamation
	That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
</LOVELL>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<17%>
	What is't for?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<LOVELL>	<17%>
	The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
	That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
</LOVELL>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<17%>
	I am glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
	To think an English courtier may be wise,
	And never see the Louvre.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<LOVELL>	<17%>
	They must either—
	For so run the conditions—leave those remnants
	Of fool and feather that they got in France,
	With all their honourable points of ignorance
	Pertaining thereunto,—as fights and fireworks;
	Abusing better men than they can be,
	Out of a foreign wisdom;—renouncing clean
	The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,
	Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel,
	And understand again like honest men;
	Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
	They may, cum privilegio, wear away
	The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
</LOVELL>

<SANDS>	<17%>
	'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
	Are grown so catching.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<17%>
	What a loss our ladies
	Will have of these trim vanities!
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<LOVELL>	<17%>
	Ay, marry,
	There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons
	Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
	A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
</LOVELL>

<SANDS>	<18%>
	The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they're going:
	For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now
	An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
	A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong
	And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
	Held current music too.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<18%>
	Well said, Lord Sands;
	Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<18%>
	No, my lord;
	Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<18%>
	Sir Thomas,
	Whither were you a-going?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<LOVELL>	<18%>
	To the cardinal's:
	Your lordship is a guest too.
</LOVELL>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<18%>
	O! 'tis true:
	This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
	To many lords and ladies; there will be
	The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<LOVELL>	<18%>
	That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
	A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
	His dews fall everywhere.
</LOVELL>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<18%>
	No doubt he's noble;
	He had a black mouth that said other of him.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<18%>
	He may, my lord; he has wherewithal: in him
	Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
	Men of his way should be most liberal;
	They are set here for examples.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<18%>
	True, they are so;
	But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
	Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
	We shall be late else; which I would not be,
	For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,
	This night to be comptrollers.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<18%>
	I am your lordship's.
</SANDS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<The Presence-chamber in York-Place.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys. A small table under a state for Cardinal...>
<... Wolsey, a longer table for the guests. Enter,...>
<... at one door, Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, Ladies,...>
<... and Gentlewomen, as guests; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GUILDFORD>	<19%>
	Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace
	Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates
	To fair content and you. None here, he hopes,
	In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
	One care abroad; he would have all as merry
	As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome
	Can make good people.
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell.>
</STAGE DIR>
	O, my lord! you're tardy:
	The very thought of this fair company
	Clapp'd wings to me.
</GUILDFORD>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<19%>
	You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<19%>
	Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
	But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
	Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
	I think would better please 'em: by my life,
	They are a sweet society of fair ones.
</SANDS>

<LOVELL>	<19%>
	O! that your lordship were but now confessor
	To one or two of these!
</LOVELL>

<SANDS>	<19%>
	I would I were;
	They should find easy penance.
</SANDS>

<LOVELL>	<19%>
	Faith, how easy?
</LOVELL>

<SANDS>	<19%>
	As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
</SANDS>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<19%>
	Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
	Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this;
	His Grace is ent'ring. Nay you must not freeze;
	Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:
	My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;
	Pray, sit between these ladies.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	By my faith,
	And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies:
<STAGE DIR>
<Seats himself between Anne Bullen and another Lady.>
</STAGE DIR>
	If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
	I had it from my father.
</SANDS>

<ANNE>	<20%>
	Was he mad, sir?
</ANNE>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	O! very mad, exceeding mad; in love too:
	But he would bite none; just as I do now,
	He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
</SANDS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Kisses her.>
</STAGE DIR>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<20%>
	Well said, my lord.
	So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,
	The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
	Pass away frowning.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	For my little cure,
	Let me alone.

</SANDS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended, and takes his state.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WOLSEY>	<20%>
	You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,
	Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
	Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome;
	And to you all, good health.
</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Drinks.>
</STAGE DIR>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	Your Grace is noble:
	Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
	And save me so much talking.
</SANDS>

<WOLSEY>	<20%>
	My Lord Sands,
	I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.
	Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen,
	Whose fault is this?
</WOLSEY>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	The red wine first must rise
	In their fair cheeks, my lord; then, we shall have 'em
	Talk us to silence.
</SANDS>

<ANNE>	<20%>
	You are a merry gamester,
	My Lord Sands.
</ANNE>

<SANDS>	<20%>
	Yes, if I make my play.
	Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,
	For 'tis to such a thing,—
</SANDS>

<ANNE>	<21%>
	You cannot show me.
</ANNE>

<SANDS>	<21%>
	I told your Grace they would talk anon.
</SANDS>
<STAGE DIR>
<Drum and trumpets within; chambers discharged.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<21%>
	What's that?
</WOLSEY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<21%>
	Look out there, some of ye.
</CHAMBERLAIN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit a Servant.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<21%>
	What war-like voice,
	And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;
	By all the laws of war you're privileg'd.

</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Servant.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHAMBERLAIN>	<21%>
	How now, what is't?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SERVANT>	<21%>
	A noble troop of strangers;
	For so they seem: they've left their barge and landed;
	And hither make, as great ambassadors
	From foreign princes.
</SERVANT>

<WOLSEY>	<21%>
	Good Lord Chamberlain,
	Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;
	And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
	Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
	Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit the Lord Chamberlain, attended. All arise, and tables removed.>
</STAGE DIR>
	You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.
	A good digestion to you all; and once more
	I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all.
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys. Enter the King, and Others, as masquers,...>
<... habited like shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain....>
<... They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him.>
</STAGE DIR>
	A noble company! what are their pleasures?
</WOLSEY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<21%>
	Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd
	To tell your Grace: that, having heard by fame
	Of this so noble and so fair assembly
	This night to meet here, they could do no less,
	Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
	But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,
	Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
	An hour of revels with 'em.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	Say, Lord Chamberlain,
	They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em
	A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.
</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<They choose Ladies for the dance. The King chooses Anne Bullen.>
</STAGE DIR>

<K. HENRY>	<22%>
	The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,
	Till now I never knew thee!
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Music. Dance.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	My lord.
</WOLSEY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<22%>
	Your Grace?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	Pray tell them thus much from me:
	There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
	More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
	If I but knew him, with my love and duty
	I would surrender it.
</WOLSEY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<22%>
	I will, my lord.
</CHAMBERLAIN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Whispers the Masquers.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	What say they?
</WOLSEY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<22%>
	Such a one, they all confess,
	There is, indeed; which they would have your Grace
	Find out, and he will take it.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	Let me see then.
<STAGE DIR>
<Comes from his state.>
</STAGE DIR>
	By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make
	My royal choice.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<22%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Unmasking.>
</STAGE DIR> You have found him, cardinal.
	You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:
	You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
	I should judge now unhappily.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<22%>
	I am glad
	Your Grace is grown so pleasant.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<23%>
	My Lord Chamberlain,
	Prithee, come hither. What fair lady's that?
</K. HENRY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<23%>
	An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter,
	The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<K. HENRY>	<23%>
	By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
	I were unmannerly to take you out,
	And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!
	Let it go round.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<23%>
	Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquest ready
	I' the privy chamber?
</WOLSEY>

<LOVELL>	<23%>
	Yes, my lord.
</LOVELL>

<WOLSEY>	<23%>
	Your Grace,
	I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<23%>
	I fear, too much.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<23%>
	There's fresher air, my lord,
	In the next chamber.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<23%>
	Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,
	I must not yet forsake you. Let's be merry:
	Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
	To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
	To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
	Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt with trumpets.>
</STAGE DIR>

</K. HENRY>
</SCENE 4>




<ACT 2>


<SCENE 1>
<Westminster. A Street.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GENTLEMAN 1>	<23%>
	Whither away so fast?
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<23%>
	O! God save ye.
	E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become
	Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<23%>
	I'll save you
	That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony
	Of bringing back the prisoner.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<23%>
	Were you there?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<23%>
	Yes, indeed, was I.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<23%>
	Pray speak what has happen'd.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	You may guess quickly what.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<24%>
	Is he found guilty?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<24%>
	I am sorry for 't.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	So are a number more.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<24%>
	But, pray, how pass'd it?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
	Came to the bar; where, to his accusations
	He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd
	Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
	The king's attorney on the contrary
	Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
	Of divers witnesses, which the duke desir'd
	To have brought, vivâ voce, to his face:
	At which appear'd against him his surveyor;
	Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,
	Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
	Hopkins, that made this mischief.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<24%>
	That was he
	That fed him with his prophecies?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	The same.
	All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
	Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:
	And so his peers, upon this evidence,
	Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
	He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
	Was either pitied in him or forgotten.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<24%>
	After all this how did he bear himself?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<24%>
	When he was brought again to the bar, to hear
	His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
	With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
	And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
	But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
	In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<25%>
	I do not think he fears death.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<25%>
	Sure, he does not;
	He never was so womanish; the cause
	He may a little grieve at.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<25%>
	Certainly
	The cardinal is the end of this.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<25%>
	'Tis likely
	By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
	Then deputy of Ireland; who, remov'd,
	Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
	Lest he should help his father.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<25%>
	That trick of state
	Was a deep envious one.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<25%>
	At his return,
	No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
	And generally, whoever the king favours,
	The cardinal instantly will find employment,
	And far enough from court too.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<25%>
	All the commons
	Hate him perniciously, and o' my conscience,
	Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
	They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,
	The mirror of all courtesy;—
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<25%>
	Stay there, sir,
	And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

</GENTLEMAN 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Buckingham from his arraignment; Tipstaves before...>
<... him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds...>
<... on each side: with him Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir...>
<... Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common people.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GENTLEMAN 2>	<25%>
	Let's stand close, and behold him.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<25%>
	All good people,
	You that thus far have come to pity me,
	Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
	I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
	And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,
	And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
	Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
	The law I bear no malice for my death,
	'T has done upon the premises but justice;
	But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:
	Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em.
	Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
	Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
	For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
	For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
	Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
	More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me,
	And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
	His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
	Is only bitter to him, only dying,
	Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
	And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
	Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
	And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name.
</BUCKINGHAM>

<LOVELL>	<26%>
	I do beseech your Grace, for charity,
	If ever any malice in your heart
	Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
</LOVELL>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<26%>
	Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
	As I would be forgiven: I forgive all.
	There cannot be those numberless offences
	'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with: no black envy
	Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his Grace;
	And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him
	You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers
	Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake,
	Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live
	Longer than I have time to tell his years!
	Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be!
	And when old time shall lead him to his end,
	Goodness and he fill up one monument!
</BUCKINGHAM>

<LOVELL>	<27%>
	To the water side I must conduct your Grace;
	Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
	Who undertakes you to your end.
</LOVELL>

<VAUX>	<27%>
	Prepare there!
	The duke is coming: see the barge be ready;
	And fit it with such furniture as suits
	The greatness of his person.
</VAUX>

<BUCKINGHAM>	<27%>
	Nay, Sir Nicholas,
	Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
	When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable,
	And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:
	Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
	That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;
	And with that blood will make them one day groan for't.
	My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
	Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
	Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
	Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
	And without trial fell: God's peace be with him!
	Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
	My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
	Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
	Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
	Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
	That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
	For ever from the world. I had my trial,
	And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
	A little happier than my wretched father:
	Yet thus far we are one in fortunes; both
	Fell by our servants, by those men welov'd most:
	A most unnatural and faithless service!
	Heaven has an end in all; yet, you that hear me,
	This from a dying man receive as certain:
	Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels
	Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends
	And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
	The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
	Like water from ye, never found again
	But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
	Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour
	Of my long weary life is come upon me.
	Farewell:
	And when you would say something that is sad,
	Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!
</BUCKINGHAM>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Buckingham and Train.>
</STAGE DIR>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<28%>
	O! this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
	I fear, too many curses on their heads
	That were the authors.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<28%>
	If the duke be guiltless,
	'Tis full of woe; yet I can give you inkling
	Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
	Greater than this.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<28%>
	Good angels keep it from us!
	What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<28%>
	This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
	A strong faith to conceal it.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<28%>
	Let me have it;
	I do not talk much.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<28%>
	I am confident:
	You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
	A buzzing of a separation
	Between the king and Katharine?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<28%>
	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 rumour, and allay those tongues
	That durst disperse it.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<28%>
	But that slander, sir,
	Is found a truth now; for it grows again
	Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain
	The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
	Or some about him near, have, out of malice
	To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
	That will undo her: to confirm this too,
	Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
	As all think, for this business.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<29%>
	'Tis the cardinal;
	And merely to revenge him on the emperor
	For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
	The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<29%>
	I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel
	That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
	Will have his will, and she must fall.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<29%>
	'Tis woeful.
	We are too open here to argue this;
	Let's think in private more.
</GENTLEMAN 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<An Antechamber in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHAMBERLAIN>	<29%>
	My lord, The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. 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 Cardinal's, by commission and main power, took them from me; with this reason: His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir.
	I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them:
	He will have all, I think.

</CHAMBERLAIN>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR>
<NORFOLK>	<29%>
	Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
</NORFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<30%>
	Good day to both your Graces.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SUFFOLK>	<30%>
	How is the king employ'd?
</SUFFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<30%>
	I left him private,
	Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<NORFOLK>	<30%>
	What's the cause?
</NORFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<30%>
	It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
	Has crept too near his conscience.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SUFFOLK>	<30%>
	No; his conscience
	Has crept too near another lady.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<30%>
	'Tis so:
	This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
	That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune,
	Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<30%>
	Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<30%>
	How holily he works in all his business,
	And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league
	Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,
	He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
	Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
	Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage:
	And out of all these, to restore the king,
	He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
	That like a jewel has hung twenty years
	About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
	Of her, that loves him with that excellence
	That angels love good men with; even of her,
	That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
	Will bless the king: and is not this course pious?
</NORFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<30%>
	Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
	These news are every where; every tongue speaks 'em,
	And every true heart weeps for't. All that dare
	Look into these affairs, see this main end,
	The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
	The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
	This bold bad man.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SUFFOLK>	<31%>
	And free us from his slavery.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<31%>
	We had need pray,
	And heartily, for our deliverance;
	Or this imperious man will work us all
	From princes into pages. All men's honours
	Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
	Into what pitch he please.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<31%>
	For me, my lords,
	I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed.
	As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
	If the king please; his curses and his blessings
	Touch me alike, they're breath I not believe in.
	I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
	To him that made him proud, the pope.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<31%>
	Let's in;
	And with some other business put the king
	From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him.
	My lord, you'll bear us company?
</NORFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<31%>
	Excuse me;
	The king hath sent me otherwhere: besides,
	You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
	Health to your lordships.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<NORFOLK>	<31%>
	Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>

</NORFOLK>
<STAGE DIR>
<Norfolk opens a folding-door. The King is discovered sitting and reading pensively.>
</STAGE DIR>
<SUFFOLK>	<31%>
	How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
</SUFFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<31%>
	Who is there, ha?
</K. HENRY>

<NORFOLK>	<31%>
	Pray God he be not angry.
</NORFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<31%>
	Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
	Into my private meditations?
	Who am I, ha?
</K. HENRY>

<NORFOLK>	<31%>
	A gracious king that pardons all offences
	Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way
	Is business of estate; in which we come
	To know your royal pleasure.
</NORFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<32%>
	Ye are too bold.
	Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
	Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?

<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Wolsey and Campeius.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Who's there? my good Lord Cardinal? O! my Wolsey,
	The quiet of my wounded conscience;
	Thou art a cure fit for a king. <STAGE DIR>
<To Campeius.>
</STAGE DIR> You're welcome,
	Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
	Use us, and it. <STAGE DIR>
<To Wolsey.>
</STAGE DIR> My good lord, have great care
</K. HENRY>
	I be not found a talker.
<WOLSEY>	<32%>
	Sir, you cannot.
	I would your Grace would give us but an hour
	Of private conference.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<32%>
<STAGE DIR>
<To Norfolk and Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR> We are busy: go.
</K. HENRY>

<NORFOLK>	<32%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR> This priest has no pride in him!
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<32%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Norfolk.>
</STAGE DIR> Not to speak of;
	I would not be so sick though for his place:
	But this cannot continue.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<32%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR> If it do,
	I'll venture one have-at-him.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<32%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Norfolk.>
</STAGE DIR> I another.
</SUFFOLK>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<32%>
	Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom
	Above all princes, in committing freely
	Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
	Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
	The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
	Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
	The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
	I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms
	Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment,
	Invited by your noble self, hath sent
	One general tongue unto us, this good man,
	This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;
	Whom once more I present unto your highness.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<33%>
	And once more in my arms I bid him welcome,
	And thank the holy conclave for their loves:
	They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.
</K. HENRY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<33%>
	Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
	You are so noble. To your highness' hand
	I tender my commission, by whose virtue,—
	The court of Rome commanding,—you, my Lord
	Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant,
	In the impartial judging of this business.
</CAMPEIUS>

<K. HENRY>	<33%>
	Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
	Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<33%>
	I know your majesty has always lov'd her
	So dear in heart, not to deny her that
	A woman of less place might ask by law,
	Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<33%>
	Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour
	To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
	Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
	I find him a fit fellow.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Wolsey.>
</STAGE DIR>

</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WOLSEY>	<33%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Gardiner.>
</STAGE DIR> Give me your hand; much joy and favour to you;
	You are the king's now.
</WOLSEY>

<GARDINER>	<33%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside to Wolsey.>
</STAGE DIR> But to be commanded
	For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
</GARDINER>

<K. HENRY>	<34%>
	Come hither, Gardiner.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<They converse apart.>
</STAGE DIR>

<CAMPEIUS>	<34%>
	My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
	In this man's place before him?
</CAMPEIUS>

<WOLSEY>	<34%>
	Yes, he was.
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<34%>
	Was he not held a learned man?
</CAMPEIUS>

<WOLSEY>	<34%>
	Yes, surely.
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<34%>
	Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then
	Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
</CAMPEIUS>

<WOLSEY>	<34%>
	How! of me?
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<34%>
	They will not stick to say, you envied him,
	And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
	Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him
	That he ran mad and died.
</CAMPEIUS>

<WOLSEY>	<34%>
	Heaven's peace be with him!
	That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers
	There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
	For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow,
	If I command him, follows my appointment:
	I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
	We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<34%>
	Deliver this with modesty to the queen.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Gardiner.>
</STAGE DIR>
	The most convenient place that I can think of
	For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars;
	There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
	My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O my lord!
	Would it not grieve an able man to leave
	So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!
	O! 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<An Antechamber in the Queen's Apartments.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Anne Bullen and an Old Lady.>
</STAGE DIR>
<ANNE>	<35%>
	Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches:
	His highness having liv'd so long with her, and she
	So good a lady that no tongue could ever
	Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
	She never knew harm-doing; O! now, after
	So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
	Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
	To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
	'Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process
	To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
	Would move a monster.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<35%>
	Hearts of most hard temper
	Melt and lament for her.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<35%>
	O! God's will; much better
	She ne'er had known pomp: though 't be temporal,
	Yet, if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce
	It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
	As soul and body's severing.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<35%>
	Alas! poor lady,
	She's a stranger now again.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<35%>
	So much the more
	Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
	I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
	And range with humble livers in content,
	Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief
	And wear a golden sorrow.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<35%>
	Our content
	Is our best having.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<35%>
	By my troth and maidenhead
	I would not be a queen.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<35%>
	Beshrew me, I would,
	And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
	For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
	You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
	Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet
	Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty:
	Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts—
	Saving your mincing—the capacity
	Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
	If you might please to stretch it.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	Nay, good troth.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<36%>
	Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen?
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	No, not for all the riches under heaven.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<36%>
	'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me,
	Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,
	What think you of a duchess? have you limbs
	To bear that load of title?
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	No, in truth.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<36%>
	Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little:
	I would not be a young count in your way,
	For more than blushing comes to: if your back
	Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
	Ever to get a boy.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	How you do talk!
	I swear again, I would not be a queen
	For all the world.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<36%>
	In faith, for little England
	You'd venture an emballing: I myself
	Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
	No more to the crown but that. Lo! who comes here?

</OLD LADY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHAMBERLAIN>	<36%>
	Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know
	The secret of your conference?
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	My good lord,
	Not your demand; it values not your asking:
	Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
</ANNE>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<36%>
	It was a gentle business, and becoming
	The action of good women: there is hope
	All will be well.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<ANNE>	<36%>
	Now, I pray God, amen!
</ANNE>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<36%>
	You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
	Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
	Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
	Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
	Commends his good opinion of you, and
	Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
	Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
	A thousand pound a year, annual support,
	Out of his grace he adds.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<ANNE>	<37%>
	I do not know
	What kind of my obedience I should tender;
	More than my all is nothing, nor my prayers
	Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
	More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
	Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
	Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
	As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness,
	Whose health and royalty I pray for.
</ANNE>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<37%>
	Lady,
	I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
	The king hath of you. <STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> I have perus'd her well;
	Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
	That they have caught the king; and who knows yet
	But from this lady may proceed a gem
	To lighten all this isle? <STAGE DIR>
<To her.>
</STAGE DIR> I'll to the king,
	And say, I spoke with you.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<ANNE>	<37%>
	My honour'd lord.
</ANNE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>

<OLD LADY>	<37%>
	Why, this it is; see, see!
	I have been begging sixteen years in court,
	Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could
	Come pat betwixt too early and too late;
	For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate!
	A very fresh-fish here,—fie, fie, upon
	This compell'd fortune!—have your mouth fill'd up
	Before you open it.
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<37%>
	This is strange to me.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<37%>
	How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.
	There was a lady once,—'tis an old story,—
	That would not be a queen, that would she not,
	For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<38%>
	Come, you are pleasant.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<38%>
	With your theme I could
	O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
	A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect!
	No other obligation! By my life
	That promises more thousands: honour's train
	Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
	I know your back will bear a duchess: say,
	Are you not stronger than you were?
</OLD LADY>

<ANNE>	<38%>
	Good lady,
	Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
	And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
	If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me,
	To think what follows.
	The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
	In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver
	What here you've heard to her.
</ANNE>

<OLD LADY>	<38%>
	What do you think me?
</OLD LADY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<A Hall in Black-Friars.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers,...>
<... with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes,...>
<... in the habit of doctors; after them, the Archbishop...>
<... of Canterbury, alone; after him, the Bishops of...>
<... Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next...>
<... them, at some small distance, follows a Gentleman...>
<... bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a...>
<... cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each...>
<... a silver cross; then a Gentleman Usher bare-headed,...>
<... accompanied with a Sergeant-at-Arms, bearing a...>
<... silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great...>
<... silver pillars; after them, side by side, the...>
<... two Cardinals; two Noblemen with the sword and...>
<... mace. Then enter the King and Queen, and their...>
<... Trains. The King takes place under the cloth of...>
<... state; the two Cardinals sit under him as judges....>
<... The Queen takes place at some distance from the...>
<... King. The Bishops place themselves on each side...>
<... the court, in manner of a consistory; below them,...>
<... the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The...>
<... Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the Stage.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WOLSEY>	<39%>
	Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
	Let silence be commanded.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<39%>
	What's the need?
	It hath already publicly been read,
	And on all sides the authority allow'd;
	You may then spare that time.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<39%>
	Be't so. Proceed.
</WOLSEY>

<SCRIBE>	<39%>
	Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.
</SCRIBE>

<CRIER>	<39%>
	Henry King of England, come into the court.
</CRIER>

<K. HENRY>	<39%>
	Here.
</K. HENRY>

<SCRIBE>	<39%>
	Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
</SCRIBE>

<CRIER>	<39%>
	Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
</CRIER>
<STAGE DIR>
<The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair,...>
<... goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.>
</STAGE DIR>

<KATHARINE>	<39%>
	Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;
	And to bestow your pity on me; for
	I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
	Born out of your dominions; having here
	No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
	Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas! sir,
	In what have I offended you? what cause
	Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
	That thus you should proceed to put me off
	And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
	I have been to you a true and humble wife,
	At all times to your will conformable;
	Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
	Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry
	As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour
	I ever contradicted your desire,
	Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
	Have I not strove to love, although I knew
	He were mine enemy? what friend of mine
	That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
	Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
	He was from thence discharg'd. Sir, call to mind
	That I have been your wife, in this obedience
	Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
	With many children by you: if, in the course
	And process of this time, you can report,
	And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
	My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
	Against your sacred person, in God's name
	Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
	Shut door upon me, and so give me up
	To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,
	The king, your father, was reputed for
	A prince most prudent, of an excellent
	And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
	My father, King of Spain, was reckon'd one
	The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many
	A year before: it is not to be question'd
	That they had gather'd a wise council to them
	Of every realm, that did debate this business,
	Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
	Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
	Be by my friends in Spain advis'd, whose counsel
	I will implore: if not, i' the name of God,
	Your pleasure be fulfill'd!
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<41%>
	You have here, lady,—
	And of your choice,—these reverend fathers; men
	Of singular integrity and learning,
	Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled
	To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless
	That longer you desire the court, as well
	For your own quiet, as to rectify
	What is unsettled in the king.
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<41%>
	His Grace
	Hath spoken well and justly: therefore, madam,
	It's fit this royal session do proceed,
	And that, without delay, their arguments
	Be now produc'd and heard.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<41%>
	Lord Cardinal,
	To you I speak.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<41%>
	Your pleasure, madam?
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<41%>
	Sir,
	I am about to weep; but, thinking that
	We are a queen,—or long have dream'd so,—certain
	The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
	I'll turn to sparks of fire.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<41%>
	Be patient yet.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<41%>
	I will, when you are humble; nay, before,
	Or God will punish me. I do believe,
	Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
	You are mine enemy; and make my challenge
	You shall not be my judge; for it is you
	Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,
	Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,
	I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
	Refuse you for my judge, whom, yet once more,
	I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
	At all a friend to truth.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<42%>
	I do profess
	You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
	Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects
	Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom
	O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong:
	I have no spleen against you; nor injustice
	For you or any: how far I have proceeded,
	Or how far further shall, is warranted
	By a commission from the consistory,
	Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me
	That I have blown this coal: I do deny it.
	The king is present: if it be known to him
	That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,
	And worthily, my falsehood; yea, as much
	As you have done my truth. If he know
	That I am free of your report, he knows
	I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
	It lies to cure me; and the cure is, to
	Remove these thoughts from you: the which before
	His highness shall speak in, I do beseech
	You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking,
	And to say so no more.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<42%>
	My lord, my lord,
	I am a simple woman, much too weak
	To oppose your cunning. You're meek and humble-mouth'd;
	You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
	With meekness and humility; but your heart
	Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
	You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
	Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
	Where powers are your retainers, and your words,
	Domestics to you, serve your will as't please
	Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
	You tender more your person's honour than
	Your high profession spiritual; that again
	I do refuse you for my judge; and here,
	Before you all, appeal unto the pope,
	To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
	And to be judg'd by him.
</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.>
</STAGE DIR>

<CAMPEIUS>	<43%>
	The queen is obstinate,
	Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
	Disdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well.
	She's going away.
</CAMPEIUS>

<K. HENRY>	<43%>
	Call her again.
</K. HENRY>

<CRIER>	<43%>
	Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
</CRIER>

<GRIFFITH>	<43%>
	Madam, you are call'd back.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<43%>
	What need you note it? pray you, keep your way:
	When you are call'd, return. Now, the Lord help!
	They vex me past my patience. Pray you, pass on:
	I will not tarry; no, nor ever more
	Upon this business my appearance make
	In any of their courts.
</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Queen, and her Attendants.>
</STAGE DIR>

<K. HENRY>	<43%>
	Go thy ways, Kate:
	That man i' the world who shall report he has
	A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
	For speaking false in that: thou art, alone,—
	If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
	Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
	Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
	Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,—
	The queen of earthly queens. She's noble born;
	And, like her true nobility, she has
	Carried herself towards me.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<43%>
	Most gracious sir,
	In humblest manner I require your highness,
	That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
	Of all these ears,—for where I am robb'd and bound
	There must I be unloos'd, although not there
	At once, and fully satisfied,—whether ever I
	Did broach this business to your highness, or
	Laid any scruple in your way, which might
	Induce you to the question on't? or ever
	Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
	A royal lady, spake one the least word that might
	Be to the prejudice of her present state,
	Or touch of her good person?
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<44%>
	My Lord Cardinal,
	I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,
	I free you from't. You are not to be taught
	That you have many enemies, that know not
	Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
	Bark when their fellows do: by some of these
	The queen is put in anger. You're excus'd:
	But will you be more justified? you ever
	Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
	Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft,
	The passages made toward it. On my honour,
	I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point,
	And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't,
	I will be bold with time and your attention:
	Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't:
	My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
	Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
	By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador,
	Who had been hither sent on the debating
	A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
	Our daughter Mary. I' the progress of this business,
	Ere a determinate resolution, he—
	I mean, the bishop—did require a respite;
	Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
	Whether our daughter were legitimate,
	Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
	Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
	The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
	Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
	The region of my breast; which forc'd such way,
	That many maz'd considerings did throng,
	And press'd in with this caution. First, methought
	I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had
	Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
	If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
	Do no more offices of life to't than
	The grave does to the dead; for her male issue
	Or died where they were made, or shortly after
	This world had air'd them. Hence I took a thought
	This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,
	Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not
	Be gladded in't by me. Then follows that
	I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
	By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me
	Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
	The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
	Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
	Now present here together; that's to say,
	I meant to rectify my conscience, which
	I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,
	By all the rev'rend fathers of the land
	And doctors learn'd. First, I began in private
	With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember
	How under my oppression I did reek,
	When I first mov'd you.
</K. HENRY>

<LINCOLN>	<45%>
	Very well, my liege.
</LINCOLN>

<K. HENRY>	<45%>
	I have spoke long: be pleas'd yourself to say
	How far you satisfied me.
</K. HENRY>

<LINCOLN>	<46%>
	So please your highness,
	The question did at first so stagger me,
	Bearing a state of mighty moment in't,
	And consequence of dread, that I committed
	The daring'st counsel that I had to doubt;
	And did entreat your highness to this course
	Which you are running here.
</LINCOLN>

<K. HENRY>	<46%>
	Then I mov'd you,
	My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
	To make this present summons. Unsolicited
	I left no reverend person in this court;
	But by particular consent proceeded
	Under your hands and seals: therefore, go on;
	For no dislike i' the world against the person
	Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
	Of my alleged reasons drive this forward.
	Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life
	And kingly dignity, we are contented
	To wear our mortal state to come with her,
	Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
	That's paragon'd o' the world.
</K. HENRY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<46%>
	So please your highness,
	The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
	That we adjourn this court till further day:
	Mean while must be an earnest motion
	Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
	She intends unto his holiness.
</CAMPEIUS>
<STAGE DIR>
<They rise to depart.>
</STAGE DIR>

<K. HENRY>	<46%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> I may perceive
	These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor
	This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
	My learn'd and well-beloved servant Cranmer,
	Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know,
	My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
	I say, set on.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt, in manner as they entered.>
</STAGE DIR>


</K. HENRY>
</SCENE 4>



<ACT 3>


<SCENE 1>
<The Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the Queen's Apartment.>
<STAGE DIR>
<The Queen and her Women at work.>
</STAGE DIR>
<KATHARINE>	<47%>
	Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;
	Sing and disperse 'em, if thou canst. Leave working.

<SONG.>

	Orpheus with his lute made trees,
	And the mountain tops that freeze,
	Bow themselves, when he did sing:
	To his music plants and flowers
	Ever sprung; as sun and showers
	There had made a lasting spring.
	Every thing that heard him play,
	Even the billows of the sea,
	Hung their heads, and then lay by.
	In sweet music is such art,
	Killing care and grief of heart
	Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Gentleman.>
</STAGE DIR>
<KATHARINE>	<47%>
	How now!
</KATHARINE>

<GENTLEMAN>	<47%>
	An't please your Grace, the two great cardinals
	Wait in the presence.
</GENTLEMAN>

<KATHARINE>	<47%>
	Would they speak with me?
</KATHARINE>

<GENTLEMAN>	<47%>
	They will'd me say so, madam.
</GENTLEMAN>

<KATHARINE>	<47%>
	Pray their Graces
	To come near. <STAGE DIR>
<Exit Gentleman.>
</STAGE DIR> What can be their business
	With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour?
	I do not like their coming, now I think on't.
	They should be good men, their affairs as righteous;
	But all hoods make not monks.

</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Wolsey and Campeius.>
</STAGE DIR>
<WOLSEY>	<47%>
	Peace to your highness!
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<47%>
	Your Graces find me here part of a housewife,
	I would be all, against the worst may happen.
	What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<48%>
	May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
	Into your private chamber, we shall give you
	The full cause of our coming.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<48%>
	Speak it here;
	There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
	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,
	Envy and base opinion set against 'em,
	I know my life so even. If your business
	Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,
	Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<48%>
	Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,—
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<48%>
	O, good my lord, no Latin;
	I am not such a truant since my coming
	As not to know the language I have liv'd in:
	A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious;
	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 absolv'd in English.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<48%>
	Noble lady,
	I am sorry my integrity should breed,—
	And service to his majesty and you,—
	So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
	We come not by the way of accusation,
	To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
	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
	And comforts to your cause.
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<49%>
	Most honour'd madam,
	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,—
	Offers, as I do, in sign of peace,
	His service and his counsel.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<49%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> To betray me.
	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,
	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
	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:
	Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<49%>
	Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears:
	Your hopes and friends are infinite.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<49%>
	In England
	But little for my profit. Can you think, lords,
	That any Englishman dare give me counsel?
	Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,—
	Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,—
	And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,
	They that must weigh out my afflictions,
	They that my trust must grow to, live not here:
	They are, as all my other comforts, far hence
	In mine own country, lords.
</KATHARINE>

<CAMPEIUS>	<50%>
	I would your Grace
	Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<50%>
	How, sir?
</KATHARINE>

<CAMPEIUS>	<50%>
	Put your main cause into the king's protection;
	He's loving and most gracious: 'twill be much
	Both for your honour better and your cause;
	For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,
	You'll part away disgrac'd.
</CAMPEIUS>

<WOLSEY>	<50%>
	He tells you rightly.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<50%>
	Ye tell me what ye wish for both; my ruin.
	Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!
	Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge
	That no king can corrupt.
</KATHARINE>

<CAMPEIUS>	<50%>
	Your rage mistakes us.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<50%>
	The more shame for ye! holy men I thought ye,
	Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
	But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.
	Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?
	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
	The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<50%>
	Madam, this is a mere distraction;
	You turn the good we offer into envy.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<50%>
	Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye,
	And all such false professors! Would ye have me,—
	If ye have any justice, any pity;
	If ye be anything but churchmen's habits,—
	Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
	Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already,
	His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords,
	And all the fellowship I hold now with him
	Is only my obedience. What can happen
	To me above this wretchedness? all your studies
	Make me a curse like this.
</KATHARINE>

<CAMPEIUS>	<51%>
	Your fears are worse.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<51%>
	Have I liv'd thus long—let me speak myself,
	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? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd him?
	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,
	And to that woman, when she has done most,
	Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<51%>
	Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<51%>
	My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,
	To give up willingly that noble title
	Your master wed me to: nothing but death
	Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<51%>
	Pray hear me.
</WOLSEY>

<KATHARINE>	<51%>
	Would I had never trod this English earth,
	Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
	Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
	What will become of me now, wretched lady?
	I am the most unhappy woman living.
<STAGE DIR>
<To her women.>
</STAGE DIR> Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
	Shipwrack'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
	No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me;
	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.
</KATHARINE>

<WOLSEY>	<52%>
	If your Grace
	Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,
	You'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady,
	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 them.
	For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
	How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
	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.
	I know you have a gentle, noble temper,
	A soul as even as a calm: pray think us
	Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.
</WOLSEY>

<CAMPEIUS>	<52%>
	Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues
	With these weak women's fears: a noble spirit,
	As yours was put into you, ever casts
	Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;
	Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please
	To trust us in your business, we are ready
	To use our utmost studies in your service.
</CAMPEIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<52%>
	Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me
	If I have us'd myself unmannerly.
	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
	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.
</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<Antechamber to the King's Apartment.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<NORFOLK>	<53%>
	If you will now unite in your complaints,
	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
	With these you bear already.
</NORFOLK>

<SURREY>	<53%>
	I am joyful
	To meet the least occasion that may give me
	Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
	To be reveng'd on him.
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<53%>
	Which of the peers
	Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
	Strangely neglected? when did he regard
	The stamp of nobleness in any person,
	Out of himself?
</SUFFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<53%>
	My lords, you speak your pleasures:
	What he deserves of you and me, I know;
	What we can do to him,—though now the time
	Gives way to us,—I much fear. If you cannot
	Bar his access to the king, never attempt
	Any thing on him, for he hath a witchcraft
	Over the king in's tongue.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<NORFOLK>	<53%>
	O! fear him not;
	His spell in that is out: the king hath found
	Matter against him that for ever mars
	The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
	Not to come off, in his displeasure.
</NORFOLK>

<SURREY>	<53%>
	Sir,
	I should be glad to hear such news as this
	Once every hour.
</SURREY>

<NORFOLK>	<53%>
	Believe it, this is true:
	In the divorce his contrary proceedings
	Are all unfolded; wherein he appears
	As I would wish mine enemy.
</NORFOLK>

<SURREY>	<53%>
	How came
	His practices to light?
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<53%>
	Most strangely.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	O! how? how?
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,
	And came to the eye o' the king; wherein was read,
	That the cardinal did entreat his holiness
	To stay the judgment o' the divorce; for if
	It did take place, 'I do,' quoth he, 'perceive
	My king is tangled in affection to
	A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	Has the king this?
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	Believe it.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	Will this work?
</SURREY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<54%>
	The king in this perceives him, how he coasts
	And hedges his own way. But in this point
	All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
	After his patient's death: the king already
	Hath married the fair lady.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	Would he had!
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	May you be happy in your wish, my lord!
	For I profess, you have it.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	Now all my joy
	Trace the conjunction!
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	My amen to't!
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<54%>
	All men's.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	There's order given for her coronation:
	Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
	To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
	She is a gallant creature, and complete
	In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
	Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
	In it be memoriz'd.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<54%>
	But will the king
	Digest this letter of the cardinal's?
	The Lord forbid!
</SURREY>

<NORFOLK>	<54%>
	Marry, amen!
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<54%>
	No, no;
	There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose
	Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
	Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
	Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and
	Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
	To second all his plot. I do assure you
	The king cried Ha! at this.
</SUFFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<55%>
	Now, God incense him,
	And let him cry Ha! louder.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<NORFOLK>	<55%>
	But, my lord,
	When returns Cranmer?
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<55%>
	He is return'd in his opinions, which
	Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
	Together with all famous colleges
	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,
	And widow to Prince Arthur.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<55%>
	This same Cranmer's
	A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
	In the king's business.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<55%>
	He has; and we shall see him
	For it an archbishop.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<55%>
	So I hear.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<55%>
	'Tis so.
	The cardinal!

</SUFFOLK>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.>
</STAGE DIR>
<NORFOLK>	<55%>
	Observe, observe; he's moody.
</NORFOLK>

<WOLSEY>	<55%>
	The packet, Cromwell,
	Gave't you the king?
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<55%>
	To his own hand, in his bedchamber.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<55%>
	Look'd he o' the inside of the paper?
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<55%>
	Presently
	He did unseal them; and the first he view'd,
	He did it with a serious mind; a heed
	Was in his countenance. You he bade
	Attend him here this morning.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<55%>
	Is he ready
	To come abroad?
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<55%>
	I think, by this he is.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<55%>
	Leave me awhile.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Cromwell.>
</STAGE DIR>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,
	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!
	No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
	To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
</WOLSEY>

<NORFOLK>	<56%>
	He's discontented.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<56%>
	May be he hears the king
	Does whet his anger to him.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<56%>
	Sharp enough,
	Lord, for thy justice!
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<56%>
	The late queen's gentlewoman, a knight's daughter,
	To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!
	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
	Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
	A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
	Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
	And is his oracle.
</WOLSEY>

<NORFOLK>	<56%>
	He is vex'd at something.
</NORFOLK>

<SURREY>	<56%>
	I would 'twere something that would fret the string,
	The master-cord on's heart!

</SURREY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the King, reading a schedule; and Lovell.>
</STAGE DIR>
<SUFFOLK>	<56%>
	The king, the king!
</SUFFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<56%>
	What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
	To his own portion! and what expense by the hour
	Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift,
	Does he rake this together? Now, my lords,
	Saw you the cardinal?
</K. HENRY>

<NORFOLK>	<56%>
	My lord, we have
	Stood here observing him; some strange commotion
	Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;
	Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
	Then lays his finger on his temple; straight
	Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,
	Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts
	His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
	We have seen him set himself.
</NORFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<57%>
	It may well be:
	There is a mutiny in 's mind. This morning
	Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
	As I requir'd; and wot you what I found
	There, on my conscience, put unwittingly?
	Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing;
	The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
	Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, which
	I find at such a proud rate that it out-speaks
	Possession of a subject.
</K. HENRY>

<NORFOLK>	<57%>
	It's heaven's will:
	Some spirit put this paper in the packet
	To bless your eye withal.
</NORFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<57%>
	If we did think
	His contemplation were above the earth,
	And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
	Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid
	His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
	His serious considering.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<He takes his seat, and whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolsey.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<57%>
	Heaven forgive me!
	Ever God bless your highness!
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<57%>
	Good my lord,
	You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
	Of your best graces in your mind, the which
	You were now running o'er: you have scarce time
	To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
	To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that
	I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
	To have you therein my companion.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<57%>
	Sir,
	For holy offices I have a time; a time
	To think upon the part of business which
	I bear i' the state; and nature does require
	Her times of preservation, which perforce
	I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
	Must give my tendance to.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<58%>
	You have said well.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<58%>
	And ever may your highness yoke together,
	As I will lend you cause, my doing well
	With my well saying!
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<58%>
	'Tis well said again;
	And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:
	And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you:
	He said he did; and with his deed did crown
	His word upon you. Since I had my office,
	I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
	Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
	But par'd my present havings, to bestow
	My bounties upon you.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<58%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> What should this mean?
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<58%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> The Lord increase this business!
</SURREY>

<K. HENRY>	<58%>
	Have I not made you
	The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me
	If what I now pronounce you have found true;
	And if you may confess it, say withal,
	If you are bound to us or no. What say you?
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<58%>
	My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,
	Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could
	My studied purposes requite; which went
	Beyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours
	Have ever come too short of my desires,
	Yet fil'd with my abilities. Mine own ends
	Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed
	To the good of your most sacred person and
	The profit of the state. For your great graces
	Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
	Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,
	My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,
	Which ever has and ever shall be growing,
	Till death, that winter, kill it.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<59%>
	Fairly answer'd;
	A loyal and obedient subject is
	Therein illustrated; the honour of it
	Does pay the act of it, as, i' the contrary,
	The foulness is the punishment. I presume
	That as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
	My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more
	On you than any; so your hand and heart,
	Your brain, and every function of your power,
	Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
	As 'twere in love's particular, be more
	To me, your friend, than any.
</K. HENRY>

<WOLSEY>	<59%>
	I do profess,
	That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
	More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.
	Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
	And throw it from their soul; though perils did
	Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and
	Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty,
	As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
	Should the approach of this wild river break,
	And stand unshaken yours.
</WOLSEY>

<K. HENRY>	<59%>
	'Tis nobly spoken.
	Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
	For you have seen him open't. Read o'er this;
<STAGE DIR>
<Giving him papers.>
</STAGE DIR>
	And after, this: and then to breakfast with
	What appetite you have.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey; the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<59%>
	What should this mean?
	What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
	He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
	Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion
	Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
	Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
	I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so;
	This paper has undone me! 'Tis the account
	Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
	For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
	And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!
	Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil
	Made me put this main secret in the packet
	I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
	No new device to beat this from his brains?
	I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know
	A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune
	Will bring me off again. What's this?—'To the Pope!'
	The letter, as I live, with all the business
	I writ to's holiness. Nay then, farewell!
	I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
	And from that full meridian of my glory,
	I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
	Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
	And no man see me more.

</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<NORFOLK>	<60%>
	Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you
	To render up the great seal presently
	Into our hands; and to confine yourself
	To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchester's,
	Till you hear further from his highness.
</NORFOLK>

<WOLSEY>	<60%>
	Stay,
	Where's your commission, lord? words cannot carry
	Authority so weighty.
</WOLSEY>

<SUFFOLK>	<60%>
	Who dare cross 'em,
	Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
</SUFFOLK>

<WOLSEY>	<60%>
	Till I find more than will or words to do it,
	I mean your malice, know, officious lords,
	I dare and must deny it. Now I feel
	Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy:
	How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
	As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
	Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin
	Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
	You have Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
	In time will find their fit rewards. That seal
	You ask with such a violence, the king—
	Mine and your master—with his own hand gave me;
	Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours
	During my life; and to confirm his goodness,
	Tied it by letters-patents: now who'll take it?
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<61%>
	The king, that gave it.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<61%>
	It must be himself then.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<61%>
	Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<61%>
	Proud lord, thou liest:
	Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
	Have burnt that tongue than said so.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<61%>
	Thy ambition,
	Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
	Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
	The heads of all thy brother cardinals—
	With thee and all thy best parts bound together—
	Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
	You sent me deputy for Ireland,
	Far from his succour, from the king, from all
	That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
	Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
	Absolv'd him with an axe.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<61%>
	This and all else
	This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
	I answer is most false. The duke by law
	Found his deserts: how innocent I was
	From any private malice in his end,
	His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
	If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
	You have as little honesty as honour,
	That in the way of loyalty and truth
	Toward the king, my ever royal master,
	Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
	And all that love his follies.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<62%>
	By my soul,
	Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel
	My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords,
	Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
	And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
	To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
	Farewell nobility; let his Grace go forward,
	And dare us with his cap like larks.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<62%>
	All goodness
	Is poison to thy stomach.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<62%>
	Yes, that goodness
	Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
	Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
	The goodness of your intercepted packets,
	You writ to the pope against the king; your goodness,
	Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.
	My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
	As you respect the common good, the state
	Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
	Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,
	Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
	Collected from his life; I'll startle you
	Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
	Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<62%>
	How much, methinks, I could despise this man,
	But that I am bound in charity against it!
</WOLSEY>

<NORFOLK>	<62%>
	Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand;
	But, thus much, they are foul ones.
</NORFOLK>

<WOLSEY>	<62%>
	So much fairer
	And spotless shall mine innocence arise
	When the king knows my truth.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<63%>
	This cannot save you:
	I thank my memory, I yet remember
	Some of these articles; and out they shall.
	Now, if you can blush, and cry 'guilty,' cardinal,
	You'll show a little honesty.
</SURREY>

<WOLSEY>	<63%>
	Speak on, sir;
	I dare your worst objections; if I blush,
	It is to see a nobleman want manners.
</WOLSEY>

<SURREY>	<63%>
	I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!
	First, that, without the king's assent or know ledge,
	You wrought to be a legate; by which power
	You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
</SURREY>

<NORFOLK>	<63%>
	Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
	To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
	Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king
	To be your servant.
</NORFOLK>

<SUFFOLK>	<63%>
	Then, that without the knowledge
	Either of king or council, when you went
	Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
	To carry into Flanders the great seal.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<63%>
	Item, you sent a large commission
	To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,
	Without the king's will or the state's allowance,
	A league between his highness and Ferrara.
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<63%>
	That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd
	Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.
</SUFFOLK>

<SURREY>	<63%>
	Then, that you have sent innumerable substance,—
	By what means got I leave to your own conscience,—
	To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
	You have for dignities; to the mere undoing
	Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
	Which, since they are of you, and odious,
	I will not taint my mouth with.
</SURREY>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<64%>
	O my lord!
	Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:
	His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
	Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
	So little of his great self.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<SURREY>	<64%>
	I forgive him.
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<64%>
	Lord Cardinal, the king's further pleasure is,
	Because all those things you have done of late,
	By your power legatine, within this kingdom,
	Fall into the compass of a præmunire,
	That therefore such a writ be su'd against you;
	To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
	Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
	Out of the king's protection. This is my charge.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<64%>
	And so we'll leave you to your meditations
	How to live better. For your stubborn answer
	About the giving back the great seal to us,
	The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.
	So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.
</NORFOLK>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt all except Wolsey.>
</STAGE DIR>

<WOLSEY>	<64%>
	So farewell to the little good you bear me.
	Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
	This is the state of man: to-day be puts forth
	The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
	And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
	The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;
	And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
	His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
	And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
	Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
	This many summers in a sea of glory,
	But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
	At length broke under me, and now has left me,
	Weary and old with service, to the mercy
	Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
	Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate yo:
	I feel my heart new open'd. O! how wretched
	Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
	There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
	That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
	More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
	And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
	Never to hope again.

</WOLSEY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Cromwell, and stands amazed.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Why, how now, Cromwell!
<CROMWELL>	<65%>
	I have no power to speak, sir.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<65%>
	What! amaz'd
	At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder
	A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
	I am fall'n indeed.
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<65%>
	How does your Grace?
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<65%>
	Why, well;
	Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
	I know myself now; and I feel within me
	A peace above all earthly dignities,
	A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
	I humbly thank his Grace; and from these shoulders,
	These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken
	A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
	O! 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden
	Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<65%>
	I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<65%>
	I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,—
	Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,—
	To endure more miseries and greater far
	Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
	What news abroad?
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<65%>
	The heaviest and the worst,
	Is your displeasure with the king.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<65%>
	God bless him!
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<66%>
	The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen
	Lord Chancellor in your place.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<66%>
	That's somewhat sudden:
	But he's a learned man. May he continue
	Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
	For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones,
	When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
	May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!
	What more?
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<66%>
	That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
	Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<66%>
	That's news indeed.
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<66%>
	Last, that the Lady Anne,
	Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
	This day was view'd in open, as his queen,
	Going to chapel; and the voice is now
	Only about her coronation.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<66%>
	There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell!
	The king has gone beyond me: all my glories
	In that one woman I have lost for ever.
	No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
	Or gild again the noble troops that waited
	Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
	I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
	To be thy lord and master: seek the king;—
	That sun, I pray, may never set!—I have told him
	What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
	Some little memory of me will stir him—
	I know his noble nature—not to let
	Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
	Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
	For thine own future safety.
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<66%>
	O my lord!
	Must I then, leave you? must I needs forego
	So good, so noble, and so true a master?
	Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron,
	With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
	The king shall have my service; but my prayers
	For ever and for ever, shall be yours.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<67%>
	Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
	In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me,
	Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
	Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
	And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
	And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
	Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee,
	Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
	And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
	Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in;
	A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
	Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
	Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
	By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,
	The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
	Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
	Corruption wins not more than honesty.
	Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
	To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not.
	Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
	Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell!
	Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
	And,—prithee, lead me in:
	There take an inventory of all I have,
	To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
	And my integrity to heaven is all
	I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
	Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
	I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
	Have left me naked to mine enemies.
</WOLSEY>

<CROMWELL>	<68%>
	Good sir, have patience.
</CROMWELL>

<WOLSEY>	<68%>
	So I have. Farewell
	The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>


</WOLSEY>
</SCENE 2>



<ACT 4>


<SCENE 1>
<A Street in Westminster.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GENTLEMAN 1>	<68%>
	You're well met once again.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<68%>
	So are you.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<68%>
	You come to take your stand here, and behold
	The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<68%>
	'Tis all my business. At our last encounter
	The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<68%>
	'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow;
	This, general joy.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<68%>
	'Tis well: the citizens,
	I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds,
	As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward,
	In celebration of this day with shows,
	Pageants, and sights of honour.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<68%>
	Never greater;
	Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<68%>
	May I be bold to ask what that contains,
	That paper in your hand?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<68%>
	Yes; 'tis the list
	Of those that claim their offices this day
	By custom of the coronation.
	The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
	To be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
	He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<68%>
	I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs,
	I should have been beholding to your paper.
	But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
	The princess dowager? how goes her business?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<69%>
	That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
	Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
	Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
	Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
	From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
	She was often cited by them, but appear'd not:
	And, to be short, for not appearance and
	The king's late scruple, by the main assent
	Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
	And the late marriage made of none effect:
	Since which she was remov'd to Kimbolton,
	Where she remains now sick.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<69%>
	Alas! good lady!
<STAGE DIR>
<Trumpets.>
</STAGE DIR>
	The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.
<STAGE DIR>
<Hautboys.>
</STAGE DIR>

<The Order of the Coronation.>
	A lively flourish of trumpets.
</GENTLEMAN 2>
<ul style="list-style-type: none>
<li class="item>1.  Two Judges.</li>
<li class="item>2  Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.</li>
<li class="item>3.  Choristers, singing. <span>
<STAGE DIR>
<Music.>
</STAGE DIR>
</li>
<li class="item>4.  Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.</li>
<li class="item>5.  <MARQUESS DORSET, BEARING A SCEPTRE OF GOLD, ON HIS...>
<... HEAD A DEMI-CORONAL OF GOLD. WITH HIM, THE EARL...>
<... OF SURREY, BEARING THE ROD OF SILVER WITH THE...>
<... DOVE, CROWNED WITH AN EARL'S CORONET. COLLARS OF SS.>
<li class="item>6.  <DUKE OF SUFFOLK, IN HIS ROBE OF ESTATE, HIS CORONET...>
<... ON HIS HEAD, BEARING A LONG WHITE WAND, AS HIGH-STEWARD....>
<... WITH HIM, THE DUKE OF NORFOLK, WITH THE ROD OF...>
<... MARSHALSHIP, A CORONET ON HIS HEAD. COLLARS OF SS.>
<li class="item>7.  A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the <QUEEN IN HER ROBE; IN HER HAIR RICHLY ADORNED WITH...>
<... PEARL, CROWNED. ON EACH SIDE OF HER, THE BISHOPS OF LONDON AND WINCHESTER.>
<li class="item>8.  The old <DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, IN A CORONAL OF GOLD, WROUGHT WITH FLOWERS, BEARING THE QUEEN'S TRAIN.>
<li class="item>9.  Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.</li>
<li class="italic>They pass over the stage in order and state.</li>
</ul>
<GENTLEMAN 2>	<70%>
	A royal train, believe me. These I know;
	Who's that that bears the sceptre?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<70%>
	Marquess Dorset:
	And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<70%>
	A bold brave gentleman. That should be
	The Duke of Suffolk?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<70%>
	'Tis the same; high-steward.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<70%>
	And that my Lord of Norfolk?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<70%>
	Yes.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<70%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Looking on the Queen.>
</STAGE DIR> Heaven bless thee!
	Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.
	Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
	Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
	And more and richer, when he strains that lady:
	I cannot blame his conscience.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<70%>
	They that bear
	The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
	Of the Cinque-ports.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<70%>
	Those men are happy; and so are all are near her.
	I take it, she that carries up the train
	Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<71%>
	It is; and all the rest are countesses.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<71%>
	Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;
	And sometimes falling ones.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<71%>
	No more of that.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.>
</STAGE DIR>

</GENTLEMAN 1>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a third Gentleman.>
</STAGE DIR>
	God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling?
<GENTLEMAN 3>	<71%>
	Among the crowd i' the Abbey; where a finger
	Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
	With the mere rankness of their joy.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<71%>
	You saw
	The ceremony?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<71%>
	That I did.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<71%>
	How was it?
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<71%>
	Well worth the seeing.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<71%>
	Good sir, speak it to us.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<71%>
	As well as I am able. The rich stream
	Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
	To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
	A distance from her; while her Grace sat down
	To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,
	In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
	The beauty of her person to the people.
	Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
	That ever lay by man: which when the people
	Had the full view of, such a noise arose
	As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
	As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,—
	Doublets, I think,—flew up; and had their faces
	Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
	I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
	That had not half a week to go, like rams
	In the old time of war, would shake the press,
	And make 'em reel before them. No man living
	Could say, 'This is my wife,' there; all were woven
	So strangely in one piece.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<72%>
	But, what follow'd?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<72%>
	At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces
	Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint-like,
	Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly.
	Then rose again and bow'd her to the people:
	When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
	She had all the royal makings of a queen;
	As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
	The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
	Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
	With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
	Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
	And with the same full state pac'd back again
	To York-place, where the feast is held.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 1>	<72%>
	Sir,
	You must no more call it York-place, that's past;
	For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost:
	'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.
</GENTLEMAN 1>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<72%>
	I know it;
	But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name
	Is fresh about me.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<72%>
	What two reverend bishops
	Were those that went on each side of the queen?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<72%>
	Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,—
	Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,—
	The other, London.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<72%>
	He of Winchester
	Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
	The virtuous Cranmer.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<72%>
	All the land knows that:
	However, yet there's no great breach; when it comes,
	Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<73%>
	Who may that be, I pray you?
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<73%>
	Thomas Cromwell:
	A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
	A worthy friend. The king
	Has made him master o' the jewel house,
	And one, already, of the privy-council.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<GENTLEMAN 2>	<73%>
	He will deserve more.
</GENTLEMAN 2>

<GENTLEMAN 3>	<73%>
	Yes, without all doubt.
	Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
	Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests:
	Something I can command. As I walk thither,
	I'll tell ye more.
</GENTLEMAN 3>

<BOTH>	<73%>
	You may command us, sir.
</BOTH>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<Kimbolton.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Katharine, Dowager, sick: led between Griffith and Patience.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GRIFFITH>	<73%>
	How does your Grace?
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<73%>
	O Griffith! sick to death!
	My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
	Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair:
	So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
	Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st me,
	That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey,
	Was dead?
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<73%>
	Yes, madam; but I think your Grace,
	Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<73%>
	Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:
	If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
	For my example.
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<73%>
	Well, the voice goes, madam:
	For after the stout Earl Northumberland
	Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,
	As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
	He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
	He could not sit his mule.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<73%>
	Alas! poor man.
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<73%>
	At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester;
	Lodg'd in the abbey, where the reverend abbot,
	With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him:
	To whom he gave these words: 'O! father abbot,
	An old man, broken with the storms of state,
	Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
	Give him a little earth for charity.'
	So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
	Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
	About the hour of eight,—which he himself
	Foretold should be his last,—full of repentance,
	Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
	He gave his honours to the world again,
	His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<74%>
	So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
	Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
	And yet with charity. He was a man
	Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
	Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
	Tied all the kingdom; simony was fair-play;
	His own opinion was his law; i' the presence
	He would say untruths, and be ever double
	Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
	But where he meant to ruin, pitiful;
	His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
	But his performance, as he is now, nothing:
	Of his own body he was ill, and gave
	The clergy ill example.
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<74%>
	Noble madam,
	Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
	We write in water. May it please your highness
	To hear me speak his good now?
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<74%>
	Yes, good Griffith,
	I were malicious else.
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<74%>
	This cardinal,
	Though from a humble stock, undoubtedly
	Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
	He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
	Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
	Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not;
	But, to those men that sought him sweet as summer.
	And though he were unsatisfied in getting,—
	Which was a sin,—yet in bestowing, madam,
	He was most princely. Ever witness for him
	Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
	Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
	Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
	The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
	So excellent in art, and still so rising,
	That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
	His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
	For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
	And found the blessedness of being little:
	And, to add greater honours to his age
	Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<75%>
	After my death I wish no other herald,
	No other speaker of my living actions,
	To keep mine honour from corruption,
	But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
	Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
	With thy religious truth and modesty,
	Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him!
	Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
	I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
	Cause the musicians play me that sad note
	I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
	On that celestial harmony I go to.
</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Sad and solemn music.>
</STAGE DIR>

<GRIFFITH>	<75%>
	She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,
	For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.

</GRIFFITH>
<STAGE DIR>
<The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another,...>
<... six Personages, clad in white robes, wearing on...>
<... their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards...>
<... on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their...>
<... hands. They first congee unto her, then dance;...>
<... and, at certain changes, the first two hold a...>
<... spare garland over her head; at which, the other...>
<... four make reverend curtsies: then, the two that...>
<... held the garland deliver the same to the other...>
<... next two, who observe the same order in their...>
<... changes, and holding the garland over her head:...>
<... which done, they deliver the same garland to the...>
<... last two, who likewise observe the same order,...>
<... at which,—as it were by inspiration,—she makes...>
<... in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up...>
<... her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they...>
<... vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues.>
</STAGE DIR>
<KATHARINE>	<76%>
	Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone,
	And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<76%>
	Madam, we are here.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<76%>
	It is not you I call for:
	Saw ye none enter since I slept?
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<76%>
	None, madam.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<76%>
	No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
	Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
	Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
	They promis'd me eternal happiness,
	And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
	I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall assuredly.
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<77%>
	I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
	Possess your fancy.
</GRIFFITH>

<KATHARINE>	<77%>
	Bid the music leave,
	They are harsh and heavy to me.
</KATHARINE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Musicceases.>
</STAGE DIR>

<PATIENCE>	<77%>
	Do you note
	How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden?
	How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,
	And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes!
</PATIENCE>

<GRIFFITH>	<77%>
	She is going, wench. Pray, pray.
</GRIFFITH>

<PATIENCE>	<77%>
	Heaven comfort her!

</PATIENCE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter a Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR>
<MESSENGER>	<77%>
	An't like your Grace,—
</MESSENGER>

<KATHARINE>	<77%>
	You are a saucy fellow:
	Deserve we no more reverence?
</KATHARINE>

<GRIFFITH>	<77%>
	You are to blame,
	Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
	To use so rude behaviour; go to, kneel.
</GRIFFITH>

<MESSENGER>	<77%>
	I humbly do entreat your highness pardon;
	My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
	A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
</MESSENGER>

<KATHARINE>	<77%>
	Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow
	Let me ne'er see again.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Griffith and Messenger.>
</STAGE DIR>

<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.>
</STAGE DIR>
	If my sight fail not,
	You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
</KATHARINE>
	My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
<CAPUCIUS>	<77%>
	Madam, the same; your servant.
</CAPUCIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<77%>
	O my lord!
	The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
	With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
	What is your pleasure with me?
</KATHARINE>

<CAPUCIUS>	<77%>
	Noble lady,
	First, mine own service to your Grace; the next,
	The king's request that I would visit you;
	Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
	Sends you his princely commendations,
	And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
</CAPUCIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<78%>
	O! my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
	'Tis like a pardon after execution:
	That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
	But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
	How does his highness?
</KATHARINE>

<CAPUCIUS>	<78%>
	Madam, in good health.
</CAPUCIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<78%>
	So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
	When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
	Banish'd the kingdom. Patience, is that letter
	I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
</KATHARINE>

<PATIENCE>	<78%>
	No, madam.
</PATIENCE>
<STAGE DIR>
<Giving it to Katharine.>
</STAGE DIR>

<KATHARINE>	<78%>
	Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
	This to my lord the king.
</KATHARINE>

<CAPUCIUS>	<78%>
	Most willing, madam.
</CAPUCIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<78%>
	In which I have commended to his goodness
	The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:
	The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!
	Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding,—
	She is young, and of a noble modest nature,
	I hope she will deserve well,—and a little
	To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
	Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
	Is, that his noble Grace would have some pity
	Upon my wretched women, that so long
	Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
	Of which there is not one, I dare avow,—
	And now I should not lie,—but will deserve,
	For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
	For honesty and decent carriage,
	A right good husband, let him be a noble;
	And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
	The last is, for my men: they are the poorest,
	But poverty could never draw 'em from me;
	That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
	And something over to remember me by:
	If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life
	And able means, we had not parted thus.
	These are the whole contents: and, good my lord,
	By that you love the dearest in this world,
	As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
	Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
	To do me this last right.
</KATHARINE>

<CAPUCIUS>	<79%>
	By heaven, I will,
	Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
</CAPUCIUS>

<KATHARINE>	<79%>
	I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
	In all humility unto his highness:
	Say his long trouble now is passing
	Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him;
	For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
	My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,
	You must not leave me yet: I must to bed;
	Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
	Let me be us'd with honour: strew me over
	With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
	I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
	Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
	A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
	I can no more.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt, leading Katharine.>
</STAGE DIR>



</KATHARINE>
</SCENE 2>


<ACT 5>


<SCENE 1>
<London. A Gallery in the Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GARDINER>	<79%>
	It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
</GARDINER>

<BOY>	<79%>
	It hath struck.
</BOY>

<GARDINER>	<80%>
	These should be hours for necessities,
	Not for delights; times to repair our nature
	With comforting repose, and not for us
	To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!
	Whither so late?
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<80%>
	Came you from the king, my lord?
</LOVELL>

<GARDINER>	<80%>
	I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero
	With the Duke of Suffolk.
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<80%>
	I must to him too,
	Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
</LOVELL>

<GARDINER>	<80%>
	Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What 's the matter?
	It seems you are in haste: an if there be
	No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
	Some touch of your late business: affairs, that walk—
	As they say spirits do—at midnight, have
	In them a wilder nature than the business
	That seeks dispatch by day.
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<80%>
	My lord, I love you,
	And durst commend a secret to your ear
	Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,
	They say, in great extremity; and fear'd
	She'll with the labour end.
</LOVELL>

<GARDINER>	<80%>
	The fruit she goes with
	I pray for heartily, that it may find
	Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
	I wish it grubb'd up now.
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<80%>
	Methinks I could
	Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
	She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
	Deserve our better wishes.
</LOVELL>

<GARDINER>	<80%>
	But, sir, sir,
	Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman
	Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
	And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
	'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me,
	Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
	Sleep in their graves.
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<80%>
	Now, sir, you speak of two
	The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
	Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
	O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
	Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,
	With which the time will load him. The archbishop
	Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak
	One syllable against him?
</LOVELL>

<GARDINER>	<81%>
	Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
	There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
	To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,
	Sir,—I may tell it you,—I think I have
	Incens'd the lords o' the council that he is—
	For so I know he is, they know he is—
	A most arch heretic, a pestilence
	That does infect the land: with which they mov'd
	Have broken with the king; who hath so far
	Given ear to our complaint,—of his great grace
	And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
	Our reasons laid before him,—hath commanded
	To-morrow morning to the council-board
	He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
	And we must root him out. From your affairs
	I hinder you too long: good-night, Sir Thomas!
</GARDINER>

<LOVELL>	<81%>
	Many good-nights, my lord. I rest your servant.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Gardiner and Page.>
</STAGE DIR>

</LOVELL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the King and Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR>
<K. HENRY>	<81%>
	Charles, I will play no more to-night;
	My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.
</K. HENRY>

<SUFFOLK>	<81%>
	Sir, I did never win of you before.
</SUFFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<81%>
	But little, Charles;
	Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play.
	Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
</K. HENRY>

<LOVELL>	<82%>
	I could not personally deliver to her
	What you commanded me, but by her woman
	I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
	In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your highness
	Most heartily to pray for her.
</LOVELL>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	What sayst thou, ha?
	To pray for her? what! is she crying out?
</K. HENRY>

<LOVELL>	<82%>
	So said her woman; and that her sufferance made
	Almost each pang a death.
</LOVELL>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	Alas! good lady.
</K. HENRY>

<SUFFOLK>	<82%>
	God safely quit her of her burden, and
	With gentle travail, to the gladding of
	Your highness with an heir!
</SUFFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	'Tis midnight, Charles;
	Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
	The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
	For I must think of that which company
	Would not be friendly to.
</K. HENRY>

<SUFFOLK>	<82%>
	I wish your highness
	A quiet night; and my good mistress will
	Remember in my prayers.
</SUFFOLK>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	Charles, good-night.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Suffolk.>
</STAGE DIR>

</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Sir Anthony Denny.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Well, Sir, what follows?
<DENNY>	<82%>
	Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop,
	As you commanded me.
</DENNY>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	Ha! Canterbury?
</K. HENRY>

<DENNY>	<82%>
	Ay, my good lord.
</DENNY>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	'Tis true: where is he, Denny?
</K. HENRY>

<DENNY>	<82%>
	He attends your highness' pleasure.
</DENNY>

<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	Bring him to us.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Denny.>
</STAGE DIR>

<LOVELL>	<82%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> This is about that which the bishop spake:
	I am happily come hither.

</LOVELL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.>
</STAGE DIR>
<K. HENRY>	<82%>
	Avoid the gallery.
<STAGE DIR>
<Lovell seems to stay.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Ha! I have said. Begone.
	What!—
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt Lovell and Denny.>
</STAGE DIR>

<CRANMER>	<83%>
	I am fearful. Wherefore frowns he thus?
	'Tis his aspect of terror: all's not well.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	How now, my lord! You do desire to know
	Wherefore I sent for you.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<83%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Kneeling.>
</STAGE DIR> It is my duty
	To attend your highness' pleasure.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Pray you, arise,
	My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.
	Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
	I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand.
	Ah! my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
	And am right sorry to repeat what follows.
	I have, and most unwillingly, of late
	Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
	Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,
	Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
	This morning come before us; where, I know,
	You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
	But that, till further trial in those charges
	Which will require your answer, you must take
	Your patience to you, and be well contented
	To make your house our Tower: you a brother of us,
	It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
	Would come against you.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<83%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Kneeling.>
</STAGE DIR> I humbly thank your highness;
	And am right glad to catch this good occasion
	Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
	And corn shall fly asunder; for I know
	There's none stands under more calumnious tongues
	Than I myself, poor man.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Stand up, good Canterbury:
	Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
	In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up:
	Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame,
	What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
	You would have given me your petition, that
	I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
	Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you,
	Without indurance, further.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<84%>
	Most dread liege,
	The good I stand on is my truth and honesty:
	If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
	Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
	Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
	What can be said against me.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<84%>
	Know you not
	How your state stands i' the world, with the whole world?
	Your enemies are many, and not small; their practices
	Must bear the same proportion; and not ever
	The justice and the truth o' the question carries
	The due o' the verdict with it. At what ease
	Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
	To swear against you? such things have been done.
	You are potently oppos'd, and with a malice
	Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
	I mean in perjur'd witness, than your master,
	Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
	Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
	You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
	And woo your own destruction.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<84%>
	God and your majesty
	Protect mine innocence! or I fall into
	The trap is laid for me!
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<84%>
	Be of good cheer;
	They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
	Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
	You do appear before them. If they shall chance,
	In charging you with matters, to commit you,
	The best persuasions to the contrary
	Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
	The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties
	Will render you no remedy, this ring
	Deliver them, and your appeal to us
	There make before them. Look! the good man weeps;
	He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!
	I swear he is true-hearted; and a soul
	None better in my kingdom. Get you gone,
	And do as I have bid you. <STAGE DIR>
<Exit Cranmer.>
</STAGE DIR> He has strangled
	His language in his tears.

</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter an Old Lady.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GENTLEMAN>	<85%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Within.>
</STAGE DIR> Come back: what mean you?
</GENTLEMAN>

<OLD LADY>	<85%>
	I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring
	Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels
	Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
	Under their blessed wings!
</OLD LADY>

<K. HENRY>	<85%>
	Now, by thy looks
	I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd?
	Say, ay; and of a boy.
</K. HENRY>

<OLD LADY>	<85%>
	Ay, ay, my liege;
	And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven
	Both now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl,
	Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
	Desires your visitation, and to be
	Acquainted with this stranger: 'tis as like you
	As cherry is to cherry.
</OLD LADY>

<K. HENRY>	<85%>
	Lovell!

</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Lovell.>
</STAGE DIR>
<LOVELL>	<85%>
	Sir!
</LOVELL>

<K. HENRY>	<85%>
	Give her a hundred marks. I'll to the queen.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

<OLD LADY>	<85%>
	A hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more.
	An ordinary groom is for such payment:
	I will have more, or scold it out of him.
	Said I for this the girl was like to him?
	I will have more, or else unsay't; and now,
	While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.
</OLD LADY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 1>


<SCENE 2>
<The Lobby before the Council-Chamber.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Cranmer; Pursuivants, Pages, &c., attending.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CRANMER>	<86%>
	I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,
	That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
	To make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho!
	Who waits there?

</CRANMER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Keeper.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Sure, you know me?
<KEEPER>	<86%>
	Yes, my lord;
	But yet I cannot help you.
</KEEPER>

<CRANMER>	<86%>
	Why?
</CRANMER>

<KEEPER>	<86%>
	Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for.

</KEEPER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Doctor Butts.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CRANMER>	<86%>
	So.
</CRANMER>

<BUTTS>	<86%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> This is a piece of malice. I am glad
	I came this way so happily: the king
	Shall understand it presently.
</BUTTS>

<CRANMER>	<86%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Aside.>
</STAGE DIR> 'Tis Butts,
	The king's physician. As he past along,
	How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me.
	Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace! For certain,
	This is of purpose laid by some that hate me,—
	God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice,—
	To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me
	Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor,
	'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures
	Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

</CRANMER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter, at a window above, the King and Butts.>
</STAGE DIR>
<BUTTS>	<87%>
	I'll show your Grace the strangest sight,—
</BUTTS>

<K. HENRY>	<87%>
	What's that, Butts?
</K. HENRY>

<BUTTS>	<87%>
	I think your highness saw this many a day.
</BUTTS>

<K. HENRY>	<87%>
	Body o' me, where is it?
</K. HENRY>

<BUTTS>	<87%>
	There, my lord,
	The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury;
	Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
	Pages, and footboys.
</BUTTS>

<K. HENRY>	<87%>
	Ha! 'Tis he, indeed:
	Is this the honour they do one another?
	'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought
	They had parted so much honesty among 'em,—
	At least, good manners,—as not thus to suffer
	A man of his place, and so near our favour,
	To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
	And at the door too, like a post with packets.
	By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:
	Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close;
	We shall hear more anon.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt above.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 2>


<SCENE 3>
<The Council-Chamber.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, the...>
<... Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain,...>
<... Gardiner, and Cromwell. The Chancellor places...>
<... himself at the upper end of the table on the left...>
<... hand; a seat being left void above him, as for...>
<... the Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves...>
<... in order on each side. Cromwell at the lower end as secretary. Keeper at the door.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHANCELLOR>	<87%>
	Speak to the business, Master secretary:
	Why are we met in council?
</CHANCELLOR>

<CROMWELL>	<87%>
	Please your honours,
	The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.
</CROMWELL>

<GARDINER>	<88%>
	Has he had knowledge of it?
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<88%>
	Yes.
</CROMWELL>

<NORFOLK>	<88%>
	Who waits there?
</NORFOLK>

<KEEPER>	<88%>
	Without, my noble lords?
</KEEPER>

<GARDINER>	<88%>
	Yes.
</GARDINER>

<KEEPER>	<88%>
	My lord archbishop:
	And has done half-an-hour, to know your pleasures.
</KEEPER>

<CHANCELLOR>	<88%>
	Let him come in.
</CHANCELLOR>

<KEEPER>	<88%>
	Your Grace may enter now.
</KEEPER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Cranmer enters and approaches the council-table.>
</STAGE DIR>

<CHANCELLOR>	<88%>
	My good lord archbishop, I'm very sorry
	To sit here at this present and behold
	That chair stand empty: but we all are men,
	In our own natures frail, and capable
	Of our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailty
	And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,
	Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
	Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
	The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains,—
	For so we are inform'd,—with new opinions,
	Divers and dangerous; which are heresies,
	And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
</CHANCELLOR>

<GARDINER>	<88%>
	Which reformation must be sudden too,
	My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses
	Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
	But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em,
	Till they obey the manage. If we suffer—
	Out of our easiness and childish pity
	To one man's honour—this contagious sickness,
	Farewell all physic: and what follows then?
	Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
	Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,
	The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
	Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
</GARDINER>

<CRANMER>	<89%>
	My good lords, hitherto in all the progress
	Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
	And with no little study, that my teaching
	And the strong course of my authority
	Might go one way, and safely; and the end
	Was ever, to do well: nor is there living,—
	I speak it with a single heart, my lords,—
	A man that more detests, more stirs against,
	Both in his private conscience and his place,
	Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
	Pray heaven the king may never find a heart
	With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
	Envy and crooked malice nourishment
	Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships
	That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
	Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
	And freely urge against me.
</CRANMER>

<SUFFOLK>	<89%>
	Nay, my lord,
	That cannot be: you are a counsellor,
	And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.
</SUFFOLK>

<GARDINER>	<89%>
	My lord, because we have business of more moment,
	We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
	And our consent, for better trial of you,
	From hence you be committed to the Tower;
	Where, being but a private man again,
	You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
	More than, I fear, you are provided for.
</GARDINER>

<CRANMER>	<89%>
	Ah! my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;
	You are always my good friend: if your will pass,
	I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
	You are so merciful. I see your end;
	'Tis my undoing: love and meekness, lord,
	Become a churchman better than ambition:
	Win straying souls with modesty again,
	Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
	Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
	I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
	In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
	But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
</CRANMER>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	My lord, my lord, you are a sectary;
	That's the plain truth: your painted gloss discovers,
	To men that understand you, words and weakness.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	My Lord of Winchester, you are a little,
	By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
	However faulty, yet should find respect
	For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty
	To load a falling man.
</CROMWELL>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	Good Master secretary,
	I cry your honour mercy, you may, worst
	Of all this table, say so.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	Why, my lord?
</CROMWELL>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	Do not I know you for a favourer
	Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	Not sound?
</CROMWELL>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	Not sound, I say.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	Would you were half so honest!
	Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
</CROMWELL>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	I shall remember this bold language.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	Do.
	Remember your bold life too.
</CROMWELL>

<CHANCELLOR>	<90%>
	This is too much;
	Forbear, for shame, my lords.
</CHANCELLOR>

<GARDINER>	<90%>
	I have done.
</GARDINER>

<CROMWELL>	<90%>
	And I.
</CROMWELL>

<CHANCELLOR>	<90%>
	Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,
	I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
	You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;
	There to remain till the king's further pleasure
	Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?
</CHANCELLOR>

<ALL>	<90%>
	We are.
</ALL>

<CRANMER>	<90%>
	Is there no other way of mercy,
	But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?
</CRANMER>

<GARDINER>	<91%>
	What other
	Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.
	Let some o' the guard be ready there.

</GARDINER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter Guard.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CRANMER>	<91%>
	For me?
	Must I go like a traitor thither?
</CRANMER>

<GARDINER>	<91%>
	Receive him,
	And see him safe i' the Tower.
</GARDINER>

<CRANMER>	<91%>
	Stay, good my lords;
	I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
	By virtue of that ring I take my cause
	Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
	To a most noble judge, the king my master.
</CRANMER>

<CHANCELLOR>	<91%>
	This is the king's ring.
</CHANCELLOR>

<SURREY>	<91%>
	'Tis no counterfeit.
</SURREY>

<SUFFOLK>	<91%>
	'Tis the right ring, by heaven! I told ye all,
	When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,
	'Twould fall upon ourselves.
</SUFFOLK>

<NORFOLK>	<91%>
	Do you think, my lords,
	The king will suffer but the little finger
	Of this man to be vex'd?
</NORFOLK>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<91%>
	'Tis now too certain:
	How much more is his life in value with him?
	Would I were fairly out on't.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<CROMWELL>	<91%>
	My mind gave me,
	In seeking tales and informations
	Against this man—whose honesty the devil
	And his disciples only envy at—
	Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye!

</CROMWELL>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the King, frowning on them: he takes his seat.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GARDINER>	<91%>
	Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
	In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
	Not only good and wise, but most religious:
	One that in all obedience makes the Church
	The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen
	That holy duty, out of dear respect,
	His royal self in judgment comes to hear
	The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
</GARDINER>

<K. HENRY>	<92%>
	You were ever good at sudden commendations,
	Bishop of Winchester; but know, I come not
	To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
	They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
	To me you cannot reach; you play the spaniel,
	And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
	But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure
	Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.
<STAGE DIR>
<To Cranmer.>
</STAGE DIR> Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest
	He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
	By all that's holy, he had better starve
	Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
</K. HENRY>

<SURREY>	<92%>
	May it please your Grace,—
</SURREY>

<K. HENRY>	<92%>
	No, sir, it does not please me.
	I had thought I had had men of some understanding
	And wisdom of my council; but I find none.
	Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
	This good man,—few of you deserve that title,—
	This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
	At chamber-door? and one as great as you are?
	Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission
	Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
	Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
	Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see,
	More out of malice than integrity,
	Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
	Which ye shall never have while I live.
</K. HENRY>

<CHANCELLOR>	<92%>
	Thus far,
	My most dread sov'reign, may it like your Grace
	To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
	Concerning his imprisonment, was rather—
	If there be faith in men—meant for his trial
	And fair purgation to the world, than malice,
	I'm sure, in me.
</CHANCELLOR>

<K. HENRY>	<93%>
	Well, well, my lords, respect him;
	Take him, and use him well; he's worthy of it.
	I will say thus much for him, if a prince
	May be beholding to a subject, I
	Am, for his love and service, so to him.
	Make me no more ado, but all embrace him:
	Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury,
	I have a suit which you must not deny me;
	That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
	You must be godfather, and answer for her.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<93%>
	The greatest monarch now alive may glory
	In such an honour: how may I deserve it,
	That am a poor and humble subject to you?
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<93%>
	Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons: you shall have two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these please you?
	Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,
	Embrace and love this man.
</K. HENRY>

<GARDINER>	<93%>
	With a true heart
	And brother-love I do it.
</GARDINER>

<CRANMER>	<93%>
	And let heaven
	Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<93%>
	Good man! those joyful tears show thy true heart:
	The common voice, I see, is verified
	Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of Canterbury
	A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.'
	Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long
	To have this young one made a Christian.
	As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
	So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
</K. HENRY>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 3>


<SCENE 4>
<The Palace-Yard.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man.>
</STAGE DIR>
<PORTER>	<94%>
	You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals.
	Do you take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
<STAGE DIR>
<Within.>
</STAGE DIR> Good Master porter, I belong to the larder.
</PORTER>

<PORTER>	<94%>
	Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue! Is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but switches to 'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings! Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<94%>
	Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impossible—
	Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons—
	To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
	On May-day morning; which will never be.
	We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<94%>
	How got they in, and be hang'd?
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<94%>
	Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?
	As much as one sound cudgel of four foot—
	You see the poor remainder—could distribute,
	I made no spare, sir.
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<94%>
	You did nothing, sir.
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<94%>
	I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
	To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any
	That had a head to hit, either young or old,
	He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
	Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
	And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
<STAGE DIR>
<Within.>
</STAGE DIR> Do you hear, Master porter?
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<94%>
	I shall be with you presently, good
	Master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah.
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<94%>
	What would you have me do?
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<95%>
	What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand: here will be father, godfather, and all together.
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<95%>
	The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog days now reign in's nose: all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me: he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, 'Clubs!' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<95%>
	These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the Limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come.

</PORTER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter the Lord Chamberlain.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CHAMBERLAIN>	<96%>
	Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here!
	They grow still too, from all parts they are coming,
	As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,
	These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows:
	There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these
	Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have
	Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
	When they pass back from the christening.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<PORTER>	<96%>
	An't please your honour,
	We are but men; and what so many may do,
	Not being torn a-pieces, we have done:
	An army cannot rule 'em.
</PORTER>

<CHAMBERLAIN>	<96%>
	As I live,
	If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
	By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
	Clap round fines for neglect: ye're lazy knaves;
	And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
	Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;
	They're come already from the christening.
	Go, break among the press, and find a way out
	To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find
	A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
</CHAMBERLAIN>

<PORTER>	<96%>
	Make way there for the princess.
</PORTER>

<MAN>	<96%>
	You great fellow,
	Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.
</MAN>

<PORTER>	<96%>
	You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail:
	I'll pick you o'er the pales else.
</PORTER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</SCENE 4>


<SCENE 5>
<The Palace.>
<STAGE DIR>
<Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord...>
<... Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with...>
<... his marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen...>
<... bearing great standing-bowls for the christening...>
<... gifts; then, four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under...>
<... which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing...>
<... the child, richly habited in a mantle, &c., train...>
<... borne by a Lady; then follows the Marchioness...>
<... of Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The...>
<... troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.>
</STAGE DIR>
<GARTER>	<97%>
	Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth!

</GARTER>
<STAGE DIR>
<Flourish. Enter King and Train.>
</STAGE DIR>
<CRANMER>	<97%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Kneeling.>
</STAGE DIR> And to your royal Grace, and the good queen,
	My noble partners, and myself, thus pray:
	All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
	Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
	May hourly fall upon ye!
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<97%>
	Thank you, good lord archbishop:
	What is her name?
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<97%>
	Elizabeth.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<97%>
	Stand up, lord.
<STAGE DIR>
<The King kisses the Child.>
</STAGE DIR>
	With this kiss take my blessing; God protect thee!
	Into whose hand I give thy life.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<97%>
	Amen.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<97%>
	My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:
	I thank ye heartily: so shall this lady
	When she has so much English.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<98%>
	Let me speak, sir,
	For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
	Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
	This royal infant,—heaven still move about her!—
	Though in her cradle, yet now promises
	Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
	Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be—
	But few now living can behold that goodness—
	A pattern to all princes living with her,
	And all that shall succeed: Saba was never
	More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
	Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
	That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
	With all the virtues that attend the good,
	Shall still be doubled on her; truth shall nurse her;
	Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her;
	She shall be lov'd and fear'd; her own shall bless her;
	Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
	And hang their heads with sorrow; good grows with her.
	In her days every man shall eat in safety
	Under his own vine what he plants; and sing
	The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
	God shall be truly known; and those about her
	From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
	And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
	Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
	The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phœnix,
	Her ashes new-create another heir
	As great in admiration as herself,
	So shall she leave her blessedness to one,—
	When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,—
	Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
	Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
	And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
	That were the servants to this chosen infant,
	Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:
	Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
	His honour and the greatness of his name
	Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish,
	And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
	To all the plains about him; our children's children
	Shall see this, and bless heaven.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<99%>
	Thou speakest wonders.
</K. HENRY>

<CRANMER>	<99%>
	She shall be, to the happiness of England,
	An aged princess; many days shall see her,
	And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
	Would I had known no more! but she must die,
	She must, the saints must have her, yet a virgin;
	A most unspotted lily shall she pass
	To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
</CRANMER>

<K. HENRY>	<99%>
	O lord archbishop!
	Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
	This happy child, did I get any thing.
	This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
	That when I am in heaven, I shall desire
	To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
	I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,
	And your good brethren, I am much beholding;
	I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
	And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords:
	Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye;
	She will be sick else. This day, no man think
	He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
	This little one shall make it holiday.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</K. HENRY>

</SCENE 5>

</ACT 5>


<EPILOGUE>
	'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
	All that are here: some come to take their ease
	And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
	We've frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear
	They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
	Abus'd extremely, and to cry, 'That's witty!'
	Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
	All the expected good we're like to hear
	For this play at this time, is only in
	The merciful construction of good women;
	For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,
	And say 'twill do, I know, within a while
	All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
	If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
</EPILOGUE>
