text: William Shakespeare The Life of King Henry the Eight 
   
   
     
   THE PROLOGVE. 
  I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, 
  That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow, 
  Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: 
  Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow 
  We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere 
  May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, 
  The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue 
  Their Money out of hope they may beleeue, 
  May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see 
  Onely a show or two, and so agree, 
  The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing, 
  Ile vndertake may see away their shilling 
  Richly in two short houres. Onely they 
  That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play, 
  A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow 
  In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, 
  Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hearers, know 
  To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show 
  As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting 
  Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring 
  To make that onely true, we now intend, 
  Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. 
  Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne 
  The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne, 
  Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see 
  The very Persons of our Noble Story, 
  As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, 
  And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat 
  Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see 
  How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: 
  And if you can be merry then, Ile say, 
  A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day. 
  Actus Primus. Scoena Prima. 
  Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny. 
    Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done 
  Since last we saw in France? 
    Norf. I thanke your Grace: 
  Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer 
  Of what I saw there 
     Buck. An vntimely Ague 
  Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when 
  Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men 
  Met in the vale of Andren 
     Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde, 
  I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, 
  Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung 
  In their Embracement, as they grew together, 
  Which had they, 
  What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd 
  Such a compounded one? 
    Buck. All the whole time 
  I was my Chambers Prisoner 
     Nor. Then you lost 
  The view of earthly glory: Men might say 
  Till this time Pompe was single, but now married 
  To one aboue it selfe. Each following day 
  Became the next dayes master, till the last 
  Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French, 
  All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods 
  Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they 
  Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, 
  Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were 
  As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too, 
  Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare 
  The Pride vpon them, that their very labour 
  Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske 
  Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night 
  Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings 
  Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst 
  As presence did present them: Him in eye, 
  Still him in praise, and being present both, 
  'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner 
  Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes 
  (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd 
  The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe 
  Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie 
  Being now seene, possible enough, got credit 
  That Beuis was beleeu'd 
     Buc. Oh you go farre 
     Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect 
  In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing, 
  Would by a good Discourser loose some life, 
  Which Actions selfe, was tongue too 
     Buc. All was Royall, 
  To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, 
  Order gaue each thing view. The Office did 
  Distinctly his full Function: who did guide, 
  I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes 
  Of this great Sport together? 
    Nor. As you guesse: 
  One certes, that promises no Element 
  In such a businesse 
     Buc. I pray you who, my Lord? 
    Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion 
  Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke 
     Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed 
  From his Ambitious finger. What had he 
  To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder, 
  That such a Keech can with his very bulke 
  Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun, 
  And keepe it from the Earth 
     Nor. Surely Sir, 
  There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends: 
  For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace 
  Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon 
  For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied 
  To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like 
  Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note, 
  The force of his owne merit makes his way 
  A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes 
  A place next to the King 
     Abur. I cannot tell 
  What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye 
  Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride 
  Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that, 
  If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, 
  Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins 
  A new Hell in himselfe 
     Buc. Why the Diuell, 
  Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him 
  (Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint 
  Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File 
  Of all the Gentry; for the most part such 
  To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor 
  He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter 
  The Honourable Boord of Councell, out 
  Must fetch him in, he Papers 
     Abur. I do know 
  Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue 
  By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer 
  They shall abound as formerly 
     Buc. O many 
  Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em 
  For this great Iourney. What did this vanity 
  But minister communication of 
  A most poore issue 
     Nor. Greeuingly I thinke, 
  The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes 
  The Cost that did conclude it 
     Buc. Euery man, 
  After the hideous storme that follow'd, was 
  A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke 
  Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest 
  Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded 
  The sodaine breach on't 
     Nor. Which is budded out, 
  For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd 
  Our Merchants goods at Burdeux 
     Abur. Is it therefore 
  Th' Ambassador is silenc'd? 
    Nor. Marry is't 
     Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd 
  At a superfluous rate 
     Buc. Why all this Businesse 
  Our Reuerend Cardinall carried 
     Nor. Like it your Grace, 
  The State takes notice of the priuate difference 
  Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you 
  (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you 
  Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade 
  The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency 
  Together; To consider further, that 
  What his high Hatred would effect, wants not 
  A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature, 
  That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword 
  Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide 
  It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend, 
  Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell, 
  You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock 
  That I aduice your shunning. 
  Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of 
  the Guard, 
  and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, 
  fixeth his 
  eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of 
  disdaine. 
    Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? 
  Where's his Examination? 
    Secr. Heere so please you 
     Car. Is he in person, ready? 
    Secr. I, please your Grace 
     Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham 
  Shall lessen this bigge looke. 
  Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine. 
    Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I 
  Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best 
  Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke, 
  Out-worths a Nobles blood 
     Nor. What are you chaff'd? 
  Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely 
  Which your disease requires 
     Buc. I read in's looks 
  Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd 
  Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant 
  He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King: 
  Ile follow, and out-stare him 
     Nor. Stay my Lord, 
  And let your Reason with your Choller question 
  What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles 
  Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like 
  A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way 
  Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England 
  Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, 
  As you would to your Friend 
     Buc. Ile to the King, 
  And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe 
  This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime, 
  There's difference in no persons 
     Norf. Be aduis'd; 
  Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot 
  That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne 
  By violent swiftnesse that which we run at; 
  And lose by ouer-running: know you not, 
  The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore, 
  In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd; 
  I say againe there is no English Soule 
  More stronger to direct you then your selfe; 
  If with the sap of reason you would quench, 
  Or but allay the fire of passion 
     Buck. Sir, 
  I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along 
  By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, 
  Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but 
  From sincere motions, by Intelligence, 
  And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when 
  Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know 
  To be corrupt and treasonous 
     Norf. Say not treasonous 
     Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong 
  As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, 
  Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous 
  As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, 
  As able to perform't) his minde, and place 
  Infecting one another, yea reciprocally, 
  Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, 
  As here at home, suggests the King our Master 
  To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew, 
  That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse 
  Did breake ith' wrenching 
     Norf. Faith, and so it did 
     Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall 
  The Articles o'th' Combination drew 
  As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified 
  As he cride thus let be, to as much end, 
  As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall 
  Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey 
  (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes, 
  (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie 
  To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour, 
  Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt, 
  (For twas indeed his colour, but he came 
  To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, 
  His feares were that the Interview betwixt 
  England and France, might through their amity 
  Breed him some preiudice; for from this League, 
  Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily 
  Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa 
  Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour 
  Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted 
  Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made 
  And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd, 
  That he would please to alter the Kings course, 
  And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know 
  (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall 
  Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, 
  And for his owne aduantage 
     Norf. I am sorry 
  To heare this of him; and could wish he were 
  Somthing mistaken in't 
     Buck. No, not a sillable: 
  I doe pronounce him in that very shape 
  He shall appeare in proofe. 
  Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three 
  of the 
  Guard. 
    Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it 
     Sergeant. Sir, 
  My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle 
  Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I 
  Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name 
  Of our most Soueraigne King 
     Buck. Lo you my Lord, 
  The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish 
  Vnder deuice, and practise 
     Bran. I am sorry, 
  To see you tane from liberty, to looke on 
  The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure 
  You shall to th' Tower 
     Buck. It will helpe me nothing 
  To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me 
  Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n 
  Be done in this and all things: I obey. 
  O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well 
     Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King 
  Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know 
  How he determines further 
     Abur. As the Duke said, 
  The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure 
  By me obey'd 
     Bran. Here is a warrant from 
  The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies 
  Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car, 
  One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour 
     Buck. So, so; 
  These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope 
     Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux 
     Buck. O Michaell Hopkins? 
    Bra. He 
     Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall 
  Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already: 
  I am the shadow of poore Buckingham, 
  Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, 
  By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell. 
  Exe. 
  Scena Secunda. 
  Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the 
  Nobles, 
  and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the 
  Kings feete 
  on his right side. 
    King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, 
  Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th' leuell 
  Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes 
  To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs 
  That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, 
  Ile heare him his confessions iustifie, 
  And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, 
  He shall againe relate. 
  A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke 
  of 
  Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. 
  King riseth 
  from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him. 
    Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor 
     King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit 
  Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power: 
  The other moity ere you aske is giuen, 
  Repeat your will, and take it 
     Queen. Thanke your Maiesty 
  That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue 
  Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor 
  The dignity of your Office; is the poynt 
  Of my Petition 
     Kin. Lady mine proceed 
     Queen. I am solicited not by a few, 
  And those of true condition; That your Subiects 
  Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions 
  Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart 
  Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although 
  My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches 
  Most bitterly on you, as putter on 
  Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister 
  Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not 
  Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes 
  The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares 
  In lowd Rebellion 
     Norf. Not almost appeares, 
  It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, 
  The Clothiers all not able to maintaine 
  The many to them longing, haue put off 
  The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who 
  Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger 
  And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner 
  Daring th' euent too th' teeth, are all in vprore, 
  And danger serues among them 
     Kin. Taxation? 
  Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, 
  You that are blam'd for it alike with vs, 
  Know you of this Taxation? 
    Card. Please you Sir, 
  I know but of a single part in ought 
  Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File 
  Where others tell steps with me 
     Queen. No, my Lord? 
  You know no more then others? But you frame 
  Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome 
  To those which would not know them, and yet must 
  Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions 
  (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are 
  Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em, 
  The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say 
  They are deuis'd by you, or else you suffer 
  Too hard an exclamation 
     Kin. Still Exaction: 
  The nature of it, in what kinde let's know, 
  Is this Exaction? 
    Queen. I am much too venturous 
  In tempting of your patience, but am boldned 
  Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe 
  Comes through Commissions, which compels from each 
  The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied 
  Without delay; and the pretence for this 
  Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, 
  Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze 
  Allegeance in them; their curses now 
  Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe, 
  This tractable obedience is a Slaue 
  To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse 
  Would giue it quicke consideration; for 
  There is no primer basenesse 
     Kin. By my life, 
  This is against our pleasure 
     Card. And for me, 
  I haue no further gone in this, then by 
  A single voice, and that not past me, but 
  By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am 
  Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know 
  My faculties nor person, yet will be 
  The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say, 
  'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake 
  That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint 
  Our necessary actions, in the feare 
  To cope malicious Censurers, which euer, 
  As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow 
  That is new trim'd; but benefit no further 
  Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best, 
  By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is 
  Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft 
  Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp 
  For our best Act: if we shall stand still, 
  In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at, 
  We should take roote here, where we sit; 
  Or sit State-Statues onely 
     Kin. Things done well, 
  And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: 
  Things done without example, in their issue 
  Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President 
  Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any. 
  We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, 
  And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each? 
  A trembling Contribution; why we take 
  From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber: 
  And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt, 
  The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County 
  Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with 
  Free pardon to each man that has deny'de 
  The force of this Commission: pray looke too't; 
  I put it to your care 
     Card. A word with you. 
  Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, 
  Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons 
  Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd, 
  That through our Intercession, this Reuokement 
  And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you 
  Further in the proceeding. 
  Exit Secret[ary]. 
  Enter Surueyor. 
    Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham 
  Is run in your displeasure 
     Kin. It grieues many: 
  The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, 
  To Nature none more bound; his trayning such, 
  That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers, 
  And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, 
  When these so Noble benefits shall proue 
  Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt, 
  They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly 
  Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat, 
  Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we 
  Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde 
  His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady) 
  Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces 
  That once were his, and is become as blacke, 
  As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare 
  (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him 
  Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount 
  The fore-recited practises, whereof 
  We cannot feele too little, heare too much 
     Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you 
  Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected 
  Out of the Duke of Buckingham 
     Kin. Speake freely 
     Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day 
  It would infect his Speech: That if the King 
  Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so 
  To make the Scepter his. These very words 
  I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law, 
  Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd 
  Reuenge vpon the Cardinall 
     Card. Please your Highnesse note 
  This dangerous conception in this point, 
  Not frended by his wish to your High person; 
  His will is most malignant, and it stretches 
  Beyond you to your friends 
     Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall, 
  Deliuer all with Charity 
     Kin. Speake on; 
  How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne 
  Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, 
  At any time speake ought? 
    Sur. He was brought to this, 
  By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton 
     Kin. What was that Henton? 
    Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer, 
  His Confessor, who fed him euery minute 
  With words of Soueraignty 
     Kin. How know'st thou this? 
    Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France, 
  The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish 
  Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand 
  What was the speech among the Londoners, 
  Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, 
  Men feare the French would proue perfidious 
  To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke 
  Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted 
  'Twould proue the verity of certaine words 
  Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he, 
  Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit 
  Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre 
  To heare from him a matter of some moment: 
  Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale, 
  He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke 
  My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but 
  To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, 
  This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres 
  (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue 
  To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke 
  Shall gouerne England 
     Queen. If I know you well, 
  You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office 
  On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed 
  You charge not in your spleene a Noble person, 
  And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; 
  Yes, heartily beseech you 
     Kin. Let him on: Goe forward 
     Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth. 
  I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Diuels illusions 
  The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous 
  For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill 
  It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd 
  It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush, 
  It can do me no damage; adding further, 
  That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, 
  The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads 
  Should haue gone off 
     Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha, 
  There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further? 
    Sur. I can my Liedge 
     Kin. Proceed 
     Sur. Being at Greenwich, 
  After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke 
  About Sir William Blumer 
     Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant, 
  The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence? 
    Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed, 
  As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid 
  The Part my Father meant to act vpon 
  Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, 
  Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted, 
  (As he made semblance of his duty) would 
  Haue put his knife into him 
     Kin. A Gyant Traytor 
     Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, 
  And this man out of Prison 
     Queen. God mend all 
     Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st? 
    Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife 
  He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger, 
  Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, 
  He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor 
  Was, were he euill vs'd, he would outgoe 
  His Father, by as much as a performance 
  Do's an irresolute purpose 
     Kin. There's his period, 
  To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd, 
  Call him to present tryall: if he may 
  Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none, 
  Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night 
  Hee's Traytor to th' height. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scaena Tertia. 
    L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle 
  Men into such strange mysteries? 
    L.San. New customes, 
  Though they be neuer so ridiculous, 
  (Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd 
     L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English 
  Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely 
  A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones) 
  For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly 
  Their very noses had been Councellours 
  To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so 
     L.San. They haue all new legs, 
  And lame ones; one would take it, 
  That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen 
  A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em 
     L.Ch. Death my Lord, 
  Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't, 
  That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now? 
  What newes, Sir Thomas Louell? 
  Enter Sir Thomas Louell. 
    Louell. Faith my Lord, 
  I heare of none but the new Proclamation, 
  That's clapt vpon the Court Gate 
     L.Cham. What is't for? 
    Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants, 
  That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors 
     L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there; 
  Now I would pray our Monsieurs 
  To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, 
  And neuer see the Louure 
     Lou. They must either 
  (For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants 
  Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France, 
  With all their honourable points of ignorance 
  Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes, 
  Abusing better men then they can be 
  Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane 
  The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings, 
  Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell; 
  And vnderstand againe like honest men, 
  Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, 
  They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away 
  The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at 
     L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases 
  Are growne so catching 
     L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies 
  Will haue of these trim vanities? 
    Louell. I marry, 
  There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons 
  Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies. 
  A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow 
     L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em, 
  I am glad they are going, 
  For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now 
  An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten 
  A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, 
  And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady 
  Held currant Musicke too 
     L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands, 
  Your Colts tooth is not cast yet? 
    L.San. No my Lord, 
  Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe 
     L.Cham. Sir Thomas, 
  Whither were you a going? 
    Lou. To the Cardinals; 
  Your Lordship is a guest too 
     L.Cham. O, 'tis true; 
  This night he makes a Supper, and a great one, 
  To many Lords and Ladies; there will be 
  The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you 
     Lou. That Churchman 
  Beares a bounteous minde indeed, 
  A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, 
  His dewes fall euery where 
     L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble; 
  He had a blacke mouth that said other of him 
     L.San. He may my Lord, 
  Ha's wherewithall in him; 
  Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, 
  Men of his way, should be most liberall, 
  They are set heere for examples 
     L.Cham. True, they are so; 
  But few now giue so great ones: 
  My Barge stayes; 
  Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas, 
  We shall be late else, which I would not be, 
  For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford 
  This night to be Comptrollers 
     L.San. I am your Lordships. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Quarta. 
  Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer 
  Table for 
  the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, & 
  Gentlemen, 
  as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry 
  Guilford. 
    S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes, 
  A generall welcome from his Grace 
  Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates 
  To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes 
  In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her 
  One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: 
  As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, 
  Can make good people. 
  Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell. 
  O my Lord, y'are tardy; 
  The very thought of this faire Company, 
  Clapt wings to me 
     Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford 
     San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall 
  But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these 
  Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, 
  I thinke would better please 'em: by my life, 
  They are a sweet society of faire ones 
     Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, 
  To one or two of these 
     San. I would I were, 
  They should finde easie pennance 
     Lou. Faith how easie? 
    San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it 
     Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry 
  Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this: 
  His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze, 
  Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather: 
  My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking: 
  Pray sit betweene these Ladies 
     San. By my faith, 
  And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, 
  If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me: 
  I had it from my Father 
     An.Bul. Was he mad Sir? 
    San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too; 
  But he would bite none, iust as I doe now, 
  He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath 
     Cham. Well said my Lord: 
  So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen, 
  The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies 
  Passe away frowning 
     San. For my little Cure, 
  Let me alone. 
  Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State. 
    Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady 
  Or Gentleman that is not freely merry 
  Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, 
  And to you all good health 
     San. Your Grace is Noble, 
  Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, 
  And saue me so much talking 
     Card. My Lord Sands, 
  I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: 
  Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen, 
  Whose fault is this? 
    San. The red wine first must rise 
  In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em, 
  Talke vs to silence 
     An.B. You are a merry Gamster 
  My Lord Sands 
     San. Yes, if I make my play: 
  Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: 
  For tis to such a thing 
     An.B. You cannot shew me. 
  Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd. 
    San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon 
     Card. What's that? 
    Cham. Looke out there, some of ye 
     Card. What warlike voyce, 
  And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; 
  By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd. 
  Enter a Seruant. 
    Cham. How now, what is't? 
    Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers, 
  For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed, 
  And hither make, as great Embassadors 
  From forraigne Princes 
     Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine, 
  Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue 
  And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em 
  Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty 
  Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him. 
  All rise, and Tables remou'd. 
  You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it. 
  A good digestion to you all; and once more 
  I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all. 
  Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like 
  Shepheards, 
  vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the 
  Cardinall 
  and gracefully salute him. 
  A noble Company: what are their pleasures? 
    Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid 
  To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame 
  Of this so Noble and so faire assembly, 
  This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, 
  (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty) 
  But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct 
  Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat 
  An houre of Reuels with 'em 
     Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine, 
  They haue done my poore house grace: 
  For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes, 
  And pray 'em take their pleasures. 
  Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen. 
    King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty, 
  Till now I neuer knew thee. 
  Musicke, Dance. 
    Card. My Lord 
     Cham. Your Grace 
     Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: 
  There should be one amongst 'em by his person 
  More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom 
  (If I but knew him) with my loue and duty 
  I would surrender it. 
  Whisper. 
    Cham. I will my Lord 
     Card. What say they? 
    Cham. Such a one, they all confesse 
  There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace 
  Find out, and he will take it 
     Card. Let me see then, 
  By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make 
  My royall choyce 
     Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall, 
  You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: 
  You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall, 
  I should iudge now vnhappily 
     Card. I am glad 
  Your Grace is growne so pleasant 
     Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine, 
  Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that? 
    Cham. An't please your Grace, 
  Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, 
  One of her Highnesse women 
     Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, 
  I were vnmannerly to take you out, 
  And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, 
  Let it goe round 
     Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready 
  I'th' Priuy Chamber? 
    Lou. Yes, my Lord 
     Card. Your Grace 
  I feare, with dancing is a little heated 
     Kin. I feare too much 
     Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord, 
  In the next Chamber 
     Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner, 
  I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry, 
  Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths, 
  To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure 
  To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame 
  Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it. 
  Exeunt. with Trumpets. 
  Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. 
  Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores. 
    1. Whether away so fast? 
    2. O, God saue ye: 
  Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become 
  Of the great Duke of Buckingham 
     1. Ile saue you 
  That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony 
  Of bringing backe the Prisoner 
     2. Were you there ? 
    1. Yes indeed was I 
     2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd 
     1. You may guesse quickly what 
     2. Is he found guilty? 
    1. Yes truely is he, 
  And condemn'd vpon't 
     2. I am sorry fort 
     1. So are a number more 
     2. But pray how past it? 
    1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke 
  Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations 
  He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged 
  Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law. 
  The Kings Atturney on the contrary, 
  Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions 
  Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd 
  To him brought viua voce to his face; 
  At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor 
  Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, 
  Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, 
  Hopkins, that made this mischiefe 
     2. That was hee 
  That fed him with his Prophecies 
     1. The same, 
  All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine 
  Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not; 
  And so his Peeres vpon this euidence, 
  Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much 
  He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all 
  Was either pittied in him, or forgotten 
     2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe? 
    1. When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare 
  His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd 
  With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly, 
  And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: 
  But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly, 
  In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience 
     2. I doe not thinke he feares death 
     1. Sure he does not, 
  He neuer was so womanish, the cause 
  He may a little grieue at 
     2. Certainly, 
  The Cardinall is the end of this 
     1. Tis likely, 
  By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; 
  Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd 
  Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, 
  Least he should helpe his Father 
     2. That tricke of State 
  Was a deepe enuious one, 
    1. At his returne, 
  No doubt he will requite it; this is noted 
  (And generally) who euer the King fauours, 
  The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, 
  And farre enough from Court too 
     2. All the Commons 
  Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience 
  Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much 
  They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham, 
  The Mirror of all courtesie. 
  Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, 
  the Axe with 
  the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with 
  Sir Thomas 
  Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, 
  &c. 
    1. Stay there Sir, 
  And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of 
     2. Let's stand close and behold him 
     Buck. All good people, 
  You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; 
  Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me. 
  I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement, 
  And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, 
  And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me, 
  Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull. 
  The Law I beare no mallice for my death, 
  T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: 
  But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: 
  (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em; 
  Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe; 
  Nor build their euils on the graues of great men; 
  For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em. 
  For further life in this world I ne're hope, 
  Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies 
  More then I dare make faults. 
  You few that lou'd me, 
  And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, 
  His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue 
  Is only bitter to him, only dying: 
  Goe with me like good Angels to my end, 
  And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, 
  Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice, 
  And lift my Soule to Heauen. 
  Lead on a Gods name 
     Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity 
  If euer any malice in your heart 
  Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly 
     Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you 
  As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all. 
  There cannot be those numberlesse offences 
  Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: 
  No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue. 
  Commend mee to his Grace: 
  And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, 
  You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers 
  Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake, 
  Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue 
  Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares; 
  Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be; 
  And when old Time shall lead him to his end, 
  Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument 
     Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; 
  Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux, 
  Who vndertakes you to your end 
     Vaux. Prepare there, 
  The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; 
  And fit it with such furniture as suites 
  The Greatnesse of his Person 
     Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, 
  Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. 
  When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, 
  And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun; 
  Yet I am richer then my base Accusers, 
  That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; 
  And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't. 
  My noble Father Henry of Buckingham, 
  Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard, 
  Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister, 
  Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, 
  And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. 
  Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying 
  My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince 
  Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines 
  Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne, 
  Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all 
  That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken 
  For euer from the World. I had my Tryall, 
  And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me 
  A little happier then my wretched Father: 
  Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both 
  Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most: 
  A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. 
  Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me, 
  This from a dying man receiue as certaine: 
  Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels, 
  Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends, 
  And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue 
  The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
  Like water from ye, neuer found againe 
  But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people 
  Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre 
  Of my long weary life is come vpon me: 
  Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, 
  Speake how I fell. 
  I haue done; and God forgiue me. 
  Exeunt. Duke and Traine. 
    1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals 
  I feare, too many curses on their heads 
  That were the Authors 
     2. If the Duke be guiltlesse, 
  'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling 
  Of an ensuing euill, if it fall, 
  Greater then this 
     1. Good Angels keepe it from vs: 
  What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir? 
    2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require 
  A strong faith to conceale it 
     1. Let me haue it: 
  I doe not talke much 
     2. I am confident; 
  You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare 
  A buzzing of a Separation 
  Betweene the King and Katherine? 
    1. Yes, but it held not; 
  For when the King once heard it, out of anger 
  He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight 
  To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues 
  That durst disperse it 
     2. But that slander Sir, 
  Is found a truth now: for it growes agen 
  Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine 
  The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall, 
  Or some about him neere, haue out of malice 
  To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple 
  That will vndoe her: To confirme this too, 
  Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately, 
  As all thinke for this busines 
     1. Tis the Cardinall; 
  And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, 
  For not bestowing on him at his asking, 
  The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd 
     2. I thinke 
  You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell, 
  That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall 
  Will haue his will, and she must fall 
     1. 'Tis wofull. 
  Wee are too open heere to argue this: 
  Let's thinke in priuate more. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Secunda. 
  Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter. 
  My Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the 
  care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. 
  They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the 
  North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man 
  of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke 
  'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd before 
  a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes 
  Sir. 
  I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee 
  will haue all I thinke. 
  Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and 
  Suffolke. 
    Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine 
     Cham. Good day to both your Graces 
     Suff. How is the King imployd? 
    Cham. I left him priuate, 
  Full of sad thoughts and troubles 
     Norf. What's the cause? 
    Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife 
  Ha's crept too neere his Conscience 
     Suff. No, his Conscience 
  Ha's crept too neere another Ladie 
     Norf. Tis so; 
  This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall, 
  That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, 
  Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day 
     Suff. Pray God he doe, 
  Hee'l neuer know himselfe else 
     Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse, 
  And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League 
  Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew) 
  He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters 
  Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, 
  Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage. 
  And out of all these, to restore the King, 
  He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her 
  That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares 
  About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre; 
  Of her that loues him with that excellence, 
  That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her, 
  That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls 
  Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious? 
    Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true 
  These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em, 
  And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare 
  Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, 
  The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open 
  The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon 
  This bold bad man 
     Suff. And free vs from his slauery 
     Norf. We had need pray, 
  And heartily, for our deliuerance; 
  Or this imperious man will worke vs all 
  From Princes into Pages: all mens honours 
  Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd 
  Into what pitch he please 
     Suff. For me, my Lords, 
  I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede: 
  As I am made without him, so Ile stand, 
  If the King please: his Curses and his blessings 
  Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in. 
  I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him 
  To him that made him proud; the Pope 
     Norf. Let's in; 
  And with some other busines, put the King 
  From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him: 
  My Lord, youle beare vs company? 
    Cham. Excuse me, 
  The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides 
  You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him: 
  Health to your Lordships 
     Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine. 
  Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits 
  reading 
  pensiuely. 
    Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted 
     Kin. Who's there? Ha? 
    Norff. Pray God he be not angry 
     Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues 
  Into my priuate Meditations? 
  Who am I? Ha? 
    Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences 
  Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way, 
  Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come 
  To know your Royall pleasure 
     Kin. Ye are too bold: 
  Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: 
  Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha? 
  Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission. 
  Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, 
  The quiet of my wounded Conscience; 
  Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome 
  Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome, 
  Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, 
  I be not found a Talker 
     Wol. Sir, you cannot; 
  I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre 
  Of priuate conference 
     Kin. We are busie; goe 
     Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him? 
    Suff. Not to speake of: 
  I would not be so sicke though for his place: 
  But this cannot continue 
     Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him 
     Suff. I another. 
  Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke. 
    Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome 
  Aboue all Princes, in committing freely 
  Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome: 
  Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you? 
  The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, 
  Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, 
  The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, 
  (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) 
  Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) 
  Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent 
  One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, 
  This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, 
  Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse 
     Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, 
  And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, 
  They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for 
     Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, 
  You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand 
  I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, 
  The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord 
  Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant, 
  In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse 
     Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted 
  Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? 
    Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her 
  So deare in heart, not to deny her that 
  A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; 
  Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her 
     Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour 
  To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall, 
  Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. 
  I find him a fit fellow. 
  Enter Gardiner. 
    Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; 
  You are the Kings now 
     Gard. But to be commanded 
  For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me 
     Kin. Come hither Gardiner. 
  Walkes and whispers. 
    Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace 
  In this mans place before him? 
    Wol. Yes, he was 
     Camp. Was he not held a learned man? 
    Wol. Yes surely 
     Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then, 
  Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall 
     Wol. How? of me? 
    Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; 
  And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) 
  Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him, 
  That he ran mad, and dide 
     Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him: 
  That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, 
  There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole; 
  For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, 
  If I command him followes my appointment, 
  I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, 
  We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons 
     Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene. 
  Exit Gardiner. 
  The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of 
  For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: 
  There ye shall meete about this waighty busines. 
  My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord, 
  Would it not grieue an able man to leaue 
  So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; 
  O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Tertia. 
  Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. 
    An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. 
  His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she 
  So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer 
  Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, 
  She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after 
  So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, 
  Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which 
  To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then 
  'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe. 
  To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty 
  Would moue a Monster 
     Old La. Hearts of most hard temper 
  Melt and lament for her 
     An. Oh Gods will, much better 
  She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, 
  Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce 
  It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging 
  As soule and bodies seuering 
     Old L. Alas poore Lady, 
  Shee's a stranger now againe 
     An. So much the more 
  Must pitty drop vpon her; verily 
  I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne, 
  And range with humble liuers in Content, 
  Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe, 
  And weare a golden sorrow 
     Old L. Our content 
  Is our best hauing 
     Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead, 
  I would not be a Queene 
     Old.L. Beshrew me, I would, 
  And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you 
  For all this spice of your Hipocrisie: 
  You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, 
  Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet 
  Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; 
  Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts 
  (Sauing your mincing) the capacity 
  Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, 
  If you might please to stretch it 
     Anne. Nay, good troth 
     Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen? 
    Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen 
     Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me 
  Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, 
  What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs 
  To beare that load of Title? 
    An. No in truth 
     Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, 
  I would not be a young Count in your way, 
  For more then blushing comes to: If your backe 
  Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake 
  Euer to get a Boy 
     An. How you doe talke; 
  I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, 
  For all the world 
     Old.L. In faith, for little England 
  You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe 
  Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd 
  No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here? 
  Enter Lord Chamberlaine. 
    L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know 
  The secret of your conference? 
    An. My good Lord, 
  Not your demand; it values not your asking: 
  Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying 
     Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming 
  The action of good women, there is hope 
  All will be well 
     An. Now I pray God, Amen 
     Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings 
  Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady 
  Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes 
  Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty 
  Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and 
  Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, 
  Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, 
  A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, 
  Out of his Grace, he addes 
     An. I doe not know 
  What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; 
  More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers 
  Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes 
  More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes 
  Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship, 
  Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, 
  As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse; 
  Whose health and Royalty I pray for 
     Cham. Lady; 
  I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit 
  The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, 
  Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, 
  That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet 
  But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, 
  To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, 
  And say I spoke with you. 
  Exit Lord Chamberlaine. 
    An. My honour'd Lord 
     Old.L. Why this it is: See, see, 
  I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court 
  (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could 
  Come pat betwixt too early, and too late 
  For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) 
  A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon 
  This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, 
  Before you open it 
     An. This is strange to me 
     Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: 
  There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) 
  That would not be a Queene, that would she not 
  For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it? 
    An. Come you are pleasant 
     Old.L. With your Theame, I could 
  O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? 
  A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? 
  No other obligation? by my Life, 
  That promises mo thousands: Honours traine 
  Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time 
  I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, 
  Are you not stronger then you were? 
    An. Good Lady, 
  Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, 
  And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being 
  If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me 
  To thinke what followes. 
  The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull 
  In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, 
  What heere y'haue heard to her 
     Old L. What doe you thinke me - 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Quarta. 
  Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short 
  siluer 
  wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, 
  the 
  Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, 
  Ely, 
  Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small 
  distance, 
  followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and 
  a 
  Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: 
  Then a 
  Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at 
  Armes, bearing 
  a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer 
  Pillers: After 
  them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the 
  Sword and 
  Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two 
  Cardinalls 
  sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance 
  from the 
  King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in 
  manner of a 
  Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the 
  Bishops. The 
  rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage. 
    Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, 
  Let silence be commanded 
     King. What's the need? 
  It hath already publiquely bene read, 
  And on all sides th' Authority allow'd, 
  You may then spare that time 
     Car. Bee't so, proceed 
     Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court 
     Crier. Henry King of England, &c 
     King. Heere 
     Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, 
  Come into the Court 
     Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c. 
  The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about 
  the 
  Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes. 
  Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, 
  And to bestow your pitty on me; for 
  I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, 
  Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere 
  No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance 
  Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: 
  In what haue I offended you? What cause 
  Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, 
  That thus you should proceede to put me off, 
  And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, 
  I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, 
  At all times to your will conformable: 
  Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, 
  Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, 
  As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre 
  I euer contradicted your Desire? 
  Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends 
  Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew 
  He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, 
  That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I 
  Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice 
  He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, 
  That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, 
  Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest 
  With many Children by you. If in the course 
  And processe of this time, you can report, 
  And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; 
  My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie 
  Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name 
  Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt 
  Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp 
  To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, 
  The King your Father, was reputed for 
  A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent 
  And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand 
  My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one 
  The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many 
  A yeare before. It is not to be question'd, 
  That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them 
  Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, 
  Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly 
  Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may 
  Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile 
  I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God 
  Your pleasure be fulfill'd 
     Wol. You haue heere Lady, 
  (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men 
  Of singular Integrity, and Learning; 
  Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled 
  To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, 
  That longer you desire the Court, as well 
  For your owne quiet, as to rectifie 
  What is vnsetled in the King 
     Camp. His Grace 
  Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, 
  It's fit this Royall Session do proceed, 
  And that (without delay) their Arguments 
  Be now produc'd, and heard 
     Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake 
     Wol. Your pleasure, Madam 
     Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that 
  We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine 
  The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, 
  Ile turne to sparkes of fire 
     Wol. Be patient yet 
     Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, 
  Or God will punish me. I do beleeue 
  (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that 
  You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, 
  You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you 
  Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; 
  (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, 
  I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule 
  Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more 
  I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not 
  At all a Friend to truth 
     Wol. I do professe 
  You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet 
  Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects 
  Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome, 
  Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong 
  I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice 
  For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, 
  Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted 
  By a Commission from the Consistorie, 
  Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, 
  That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, 
  The King is present: If it be knowne to him, 
  That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, 
  And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much 
  As you haue done my Truth. If he know 
  That I am free of your Report, he knowes 
  I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him 
  It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to 
  Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before 
  His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech 
  You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, 
  And to say so no more 
     Queen. My Lord, My Lord, 
  I am a simple woman, much too weake 
  T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd 
  You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, 
  With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart 
  Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. 
  You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, 
  Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted 
  Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words 
  (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please 
  Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, 
  You tender more your persons Honor, then 
  Your high profession Spirituall. That agen 
  I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere 
  Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, 
  To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, 
  And to be iudg'd by him. 
  She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart. 
    Camp. The Queene is obstinate, 
  Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and 
  Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well. 
  Shee's going away 
     Kin. Call her againe 
     Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court 
     Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe 
     Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, 
  When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, 
  They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; 
  I will not tarry: no, nor euer more 
  Vpon this businesse my appearance make, 
  In any of their Courts. 
  Exit Queene, and her Attendants. 
    Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate, 
  That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's 
  A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, 
  For speaking false in that; thou art alone 
  (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, 
  Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment, 
  Obeying in commanding, and thy parts 
  Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) 
  The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne; 
  And like her true Nobility, she ha's 
  Carried her selfe towards me 
     Wol. Most gracious Sir, 
  In humblest manner I require your Highnes, 
  That it shall please you to declare in hearing 
  Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound, 
  There must I be vnloos'd, although not there 
  At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I 
  Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or 
  Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
  Induce you to the question on't: or euer 
  Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such 
  A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might 
  Be to the preiudice of her present State, 
  Or touch of her good Person? 
    Kin. My Lord Cardinall, 
  I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, 
  I free you from't: You are not to be taught 
  That you haue many enemies, that know not 
  Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, 
  Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these 
  The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd: 
  But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer 
  Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd 
  It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft 
  The passages made toward it; on my Honour, 
  I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; 
  And thus farre cleare him. 
  Now, what mou'd me too't, 
  I will be bold with time and your attention: 
  Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't: 
  My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes, 
  Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd 
  By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, 
  Who had beene hither sent on the debating 
  And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and 
  Our Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines, 
  Ere a determinate resolution, hee 
  (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, 
  Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, 
  Whether our Daughter were legitimate, 
  Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, 
  Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke 
  The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me; 
  Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble 
  The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way, 
  That many maz'd considerings, did throng 
  And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought 
  I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had 
  Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe 
  If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should 
  Doe no more Offices of life too't; then 
  The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue, 
  Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after 
  This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought, 
  This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome 
  (Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not 
  Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that 
  I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in 
  By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me 
  Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in 
  The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere 
  Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
  Now present heere together: that's to say, 
  I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which 
  I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, 
  By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, 
  And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, 
  With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember 
  How vnder my oppression I did reeke 
  When I first mou'd you 
     B.Lin. Very well my Liedge 
     Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say 
  How farre you satisfide me 
     Lin. So please your Highnes, 
  The question did at first so stagger me, 
  Bearing a State of mighty moment in't, 
  And consequence of dread, that I committed 
  The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, 
  And did entreate your Highnes to this course, 
  Which you are running heere 
     Kin. I then mou'd you, 
  My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue 
  To make this present Summons vnsolicited. 
  I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; 
  But by particular consent proceeded 
  Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, 
  For no dislike i'th' world against the person 
  Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points 
  Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: 
  Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life 
  And Kingly Dignity, we are contented 
  To weare our mortall State to come, with her, 
  (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature 
  That's Parragon'd o'th' World 
     Camp. So please your Highnes, 
  The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, 
  That we adiourne this Court till further day; 
  Meane while, must be an earnest motion 
  Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale 
  She intends vnto his Holinesse 
     Kin. I may perceiue 
  These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre 
  This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. 
  My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, 
  Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, 
  My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; 
  I say, set on. 
  Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd. 
  Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. 
  Enter Queene and her Women as at worke. 
    Queen. Take thy Lute wench, 
  My Soule growes sad with troubles, 
  Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working. 
  SONG. 
  Orpheus with his Lute made Trees, 
  And the Mountaine tops that freeze, 
  Bow themselues when he did sing. 
  To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers 
  Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers, 
  There had made a lasting Spring. 
  Euery thing that heard him play, 
  Euen the Billowes of the Sea, 
  Hung their heads, & then lay by. 
  In sweet Musicke is such Art, 
  Killing care, & griefe of heart, 
  Fall asleepe, or hearing dye. 
  Enter a Gentleman. 
    Queen. How now? 
    Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals 
  Wait in the presence 
     Queen. Would they speake with me? 
    Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam 
     Queen. Pray their Graces 
  To come neere: what can be their busines 
  With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? 
  I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't, 
  They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous: 
  But all Hoods, make not Monkes. 
  Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian. 
    Wols. Peace to your Highnesse 
     Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, 
  (I would be all) against the worst may happen: 
  What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords? 
    Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw 
  Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you 
  The full cause of our comming 
     Queen. Speake it heere. 
  There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience 
  Deserues a Corner: would all other Women 
  Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. 
  My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy 
  Aboue a number) if my actions 
  Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, 
  Enuy and base opinion set against 'em, 
  I know my life so euen. If your busines 
  Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in; 
  Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing 
     Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima 
     Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin; 
  I am not such a Truant since my comming, 
  As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: 
  A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious: 
  Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you, 
  If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake; 
  Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, 
  The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed, 
  May be absolu'd in English 
     Card. Noble Lady, 
  I am sorry my integrity should breed, 
  (And seruice to his Maiesty and you) 
  So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; 
  We come not by the way of Accusation, 
  To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; 
  Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; 
  You haue too much good Lady: But to know 
  How you stand minded in the waighty difference 
  Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer 
  (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, 
  And comforts to our cause 
     Camp. Most honour'd Madam, 
  My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, 
  Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace, 
  Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure 
  Both of his truth and him (which was too farre) 
  Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace, 
  His Seruice, and his Counsell 
     Queen. To betray me. 
  My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, 
  Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so) 
  But how to make ye sodainly an Answere 
  In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, 
  (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit; 
  And to such men of grauity and learning; 
  In truth I know not. I was set at worke, 
  Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking 
  Either for such men, or such businesse; 
  For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele 
  The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces 
  Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause: 
  Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse 
     Wol. Madam, 
  You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, 
  Your hopes and friends are infinite 
     Queen. In England, 
  But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, 
  That any English man dare giue me Councell? 
  Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure, 
  (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) 
  And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, 
  They that must weigh out my afflictions, 
  They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, 
  They are (as all my other comforts) far hence 
  In mine owne Countrey Lords 
     Camp. I would your Grace 
  Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell 
     Queen. How Sir? 
    Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, 
  Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much, 
  Both for your Honour better, and your Cause: 
  For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, 
  You'l part away disgrac'd 
     Wol. He tels you rightly 
     Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: 
  Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. 
  Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge, 
  That no King can corrupt 
     Camp. Your rage mistakes vs 
     Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, 
  Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: 
  But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye: 
  Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? 
  The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? 
  A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd? 
  I will not wish ye halfe my miseries, 
  I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; 
  Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once 
  The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye 
     Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, 
  You turne the good we offer, into enuy 
     Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, 
  And all such false Professors. Would you haue me 
  (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty, 
  If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) 
  Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me? 
  Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already, 
  His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, 
  And all the Fellowship I hold now with him 
  Is onely my Obedience. What can happen 
  To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies 
  Make me a Curse, like this 
     Camp. Your feares are worse 
     Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe, 
  Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? 
  A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory) 
  Neuer yet branded with Suspition? 
  Haue I, with all my full Affections 
  Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? 
  Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him? 
  Almost forgot my Prayres to content him? 
  And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords. 
  Bring me a constant woman to her Husband, 
  One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; 
  And to that Woman (when she has done most) 
  Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience 
     Car. Madam, you wander from the good 
  We ayme at 
     Qu. My Lord, 
  I dare not make my selfe so guiltie, 
  To giue vp willingly that Noble Title 
  Your Master wed me to: nothing but death 
  Shall e're diuorce my Dignities 
     Car. Pray heare me 
     Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, 
  Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it: 
  Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts. 
  What will become of me now, wretched Lady? 
  I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing. 
  Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? 
  Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty, 
  No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me? 
  Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly 
  That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd, 
  Ile hang my head, and perish 
     Car. If your Grace 
  Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, 
  Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) 
  Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, 
  The way of our Profession is against it; 
  We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. 
  For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do, 
  How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly 
  Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. 
  The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience, 
  So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, 
  They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes. 
  I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper, 
  A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, 
  Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants 
     Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so: 
  You wrong your Vertues 
  With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit 
  As yours was, put into you, euer casts 
  Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, 
  Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please 
  To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready 
  To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice 
     Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords: 
  And pray forgiue me; 
  If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly, 
  You know I am a Woman, lacking wit 
  To make a seemely answer to such persons. 
  Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie, 
  He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers 
  While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers, 
  Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges 
  That little thought when she set footing heere, 
  She should haue bought her Dignities so deere. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Secunda. 
  Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and 
  Lord 
  Chamberlaine. 
    Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, 
  And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall 
  Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit 
  The offer of this time, I cannot promise, 
  But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces, 
  With these you beare alreadie 
     Sur. I am ioyfull 
  To meete the least occasion, that may giue me 
  Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke, 
  To be reueng'd on him 
     Suf. Which of the Peeres 
  Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least 
  Strangely neglected? When did he regard 
  The stampe of Noblenesse in any person 
  Out of himselfe? 
    Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: 
  What he deserues of you and me, I know: 
  What we can do to him (though now the time 
  Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot 
  Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt 
  Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft 
  Ouer the King in's Tongue 
     Nor. O feare him not, 
  His spell in that is out: the King hath found 
  Matter against him, that for euer marres 
  The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled 
  (Not to come off) in his displeasure 
     Sur. Sir, 
  I should be glad to heare such Newes as this 
  Once euery houre 
     Nor. Beleeue it, this is true. 
  In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings 
  Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares, 
  As I would wish mine Enemy 
     Sur. How came 
  His practises to light? 
    Suf. Most strangely 
     Sur. O how? how? 
    Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, 
  And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read 
  How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse 
  To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if 
  It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue 
  My King is tangled in affection, to 
  A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen 
     Sur. Ha's the King this? 
    Suf. Beleeue it 
     Sur. Will this worke? 
    Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts 
  And hedges his owne way. But in this point 
  All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke 
  After his Patients death; the King already 
  Hath married the faire Lady 
     Sur. Would he had 
     Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, 
  For I professe you haue it 
     Sur. Now all my ioy 
  Trace the Coniunction 
     Suf. My Amen too't 
     Nor. All mens 
     Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: 
  Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left 
  To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords 
  She is a gallant Creature, and compleate 
  In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her 
  Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall 
  In it be memoriz'd 
     Sur. But will the King 
  Digest this Letter of the Cardinals? 
  The Lord forbid 
     Nor. Marry Amen 
     Suf. No, no: 
  There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, 
  Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius, 
  Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue, 
  Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and 
  Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall, 
  To second all his plot. I do assure you, 
  The King cry'de Ha, at this 
     Cham. Now God incense him, 
  And let him cry Ha, lowder 
     Norf. But my Lord 
  When returnes Cranmer? 
    Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which 
  Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce, 
  Together with all famous Colledges 
  Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) 
  His second Marriage shall be publishd, and 
  Her Coronation. Katherine no more 
  Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, 
  And Widdow to Prince Arthur 
     Nor. This same Cranmer's 
  A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine 
  In the Kings businesse 
     Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him 
  For it, an Arch-byshop 
     Nor. So I heare 
     Suf. 'Tis so. 
  Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. 
  The Cardinall 
     Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody 
     Car. The Packet Cromwell, 
  Gau't you the King? 
    Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber 
     Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper? 
    Crom. Presently 
  He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd, 
  He did it with a Serious minde: a heede 
  Was in his countenance. You he bad 
  Attend him heere this Morning 
     Card. Is he ready to come abroad? 
    Crom. I thinke by this he is 
     Card. Leaue me a while. 
  Exit Cromwell. 
  It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson, 
  The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. 
  Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him, 
  There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? 
  No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish 
  To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke? 
    Nor. He's discontented 
     Suf. Maybe he heares the King 
  Does whet his Anger to him 
     Sur. Sharpe enough, 
  Lord for thy Iustice 
     Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman? 
  A Knights Daughter 
  To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? 
  This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, 
  Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous 
  And well deseruing? yet I know her for 
  A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to 
  Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of 
  Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp 
  An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one 
  Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, 
  And is his Oracle 
     Nor. He is vex'd at something. 
  Enter King, reading of a Scedule. 
    Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string, 
  The Master-cord on's heart 
     Suf. The King, the King 
     King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated 
  To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre 
  Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift 
  Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, 
  Saw you the Cardinall? 
    Nor. My Lord, we haue 
  Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion 
  Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts, 
  Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground, 
  Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight 
  Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe, 
  Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts 
  His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures 
  We haue seene him set himselfe 
     King. It may well be, 
  There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, 
  Papers of State he sent me, to peruse 
  As I requir'd: and wot you what I found 
  There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly) 
  Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing 
  The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure, 
  Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which 
  I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes 
  Possession of a Subiect 
     Nor. It's Heauens will, 
  Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, 
  To blesse your eye withall 
     King. If we did thinke 
  His Contemplation were aboue the earth, 
  And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still 
  Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid 
  His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth 
  His serious considering. 
  King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall. 
    Car. Heauen forgiue me, 
  Euer God blesse your Highnesse 
     King. Good my Lord, 
  You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory 
  Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which 
  You were now running o're: you haue scarse time 
  To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span 
  To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that 
  I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad 
  To haue you therein my Companion 
     Car. Sir, 
  For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time 
  To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which 
  I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require 
  Her times of preseruation, which perforce 
  I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, 
  Must giue my tendance to 
     King. You haue said well 
     Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, 
  (As I will lend you cause) my doing well, 
  With my well saying 
     King. 'Tis well said agen, 
  And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, 
  And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you, 
  He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne 
  His word vpon you. Since I had my Office, 
  I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone 
  Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, 
  But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow 
  My Bounties vpon you 
     Car. What should this meane? 
    Sur. The Lord increase this businesse 
     King. Haue I not made you 
  The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, 
  If what I now pronounce, you haue found true: 
  And if you may confesse it, say withall 
  If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you? 
    Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces 
  Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could 
  My studied purposes requite, which went 
  Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, 
  Haue euer come too short of my Desires, 
  Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends 
  Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed 
  To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and 
  The profit of the State. For your great Graces 
  Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I 
  Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, 
  My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie 
  Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, 
  Till death (that Winter) kill it 
     King. Fairely answer'd: 
  A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is 
  Therein illustrated, the Honor of it 
  Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary 
  The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, 
  That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, 
  My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more 
  On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, 
  Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, 
  Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, 
  As 'twer in Loues particular, be more 
  To me your Friend, then any 
     Car. I do professe, 
  That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd 
  More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be 
  (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, 
  And throw it from their Soule, though perils did 
  Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and 
  Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, 
  As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, 
  Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, 
  And stand vnshaken yours 
     King. 'Tis Nobly spoken: 
  Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, 
  For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, 
  And after this, and then to Breakfast with 
  What appetite you haue. 
  Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after 
  him 
  smiling, and whispering. 
    Car. What should this meane? 
  What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? 
  He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine 
  Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon 
  Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: 
  Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: 
  I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: 
  This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt 
  Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together 
  For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, 
  And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! 
  Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell 
  Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet 
  I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? 
  No new deuice to beate this from his Braines? 
  I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know 
  A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune 
  Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope? 
  The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse 
  I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: 
  I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, 
  And from that full Meridian of my Glory, 
  I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall 
  Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, 
  And no man see me more. 
  Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle 
  of Surrey, 
  and the Lord Chamberlaine. 
    Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, 
  Who commands you 
  To render vp the Great Seale presently 
  Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe 
  To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters, 
  Till you heare further from his Highnesse 
     Car. Stay: 
  Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie 
  Authority so weighty 
     Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, 
  Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely? 
    Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, 
  (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, 
  I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele 
  Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, 
  How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces 
  As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton 
  Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? 
  Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; 
  You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt 
  In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale 
  You aske with such a Violence, the King 
  (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: 
  Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors 
  During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, 
  Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? 
    Sur. The King that gaue it 
     Car. It must be himselfe then 
     Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest 
     Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest: 
  Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better 
  Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so 
     Sur. Thy Ambition 
  (Thou Scarlet sinne) 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 haire of his. Plague of your policie, 
  You sent me Deputie for Ireland, 
  Farre from his succour; from the King, from all 
  That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him: 
  Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty, 
  Absolu'd him with an Axe 
     Wol. This, and all else 
  This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, 
  I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law 
  Found his deserts. How innocent I was 
  From any priuate malice in his end, 
  His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse. 
  If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you, 
  You haue as little Honestie, as Honor, 
  That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, 
  Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master, 
  Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, 
  And all that loue his follies 
     Sur. By my Soule, 
  Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, 
  Thou should'st feele 
  My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, 
  Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance? 
  And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, 
  To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, 
  Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, 
  And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes 
     Card. All Goodnesse 
  Is poyson to thy Stomacke 
     Sur. Yes, that goodnesse 
  Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, 
  Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: 
  The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets 
  You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse 
  Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious. 
  My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble, 
  As you respect the common good, the State 
  Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues, 
  (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen) 
  Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles 
  Collected from his life. Ile startle you 
  Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench 
  Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall 
     Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, 
  But that I am bound in Charitie against it 
     Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: 
  But thus much, they are foule ones 
     Wol. So much fairer 
  And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, 
  When the King knowes my Truth 
     Sur. This cannot saue you: 
  I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember 
  Some of these Articles, and out they shall. 
  Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall, 
  You'l shew a little Honestie 
     Wol. Speake on Sir, 
  I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, 
  It is to see a Nobleman want manners 
     Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; 
  Haue at you. 
  First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, 
  You wrought to be a Legate, by which power 
  You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops 
     Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else 
  To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus 
  Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King 
  To be your Seruant 
     Suf. Then, that without the knowledge 
  Either of King or Councell, when you went 
  Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold 
  To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale 
     Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission 
  To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude 
  Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, 
  A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara 
     Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd 
  Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine 
     Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, 
  (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience) 
  To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes 
  You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing 
  Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are, 
  Which since they are of you, and odious, 
  I will not taint my mouth with 
     Cham. O my Lord, 
  Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: 
  His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them 
  (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him 
  So little, of his great Selfe 
     Sur. I forgiue him 
     Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, 
  Because all those things you haue done of late 
  By your power Legatine within this Kingdome, 
  Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire; 
  That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, 
  To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements, 
  Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be 
  Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge 
     Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations 
  How to liue better. For your stubborne answer 
  About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs, 
  The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you. 
  So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall. 
  Exeunt. all but Wolsey. 
    Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me. 
  Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse. 
  This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth 
  The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, 
  And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him: 
  The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, 
  And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely 
  His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, 
  And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd 
  Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: 
  This many Summers in a Sea of Glory, 
  But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride 
  At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me 
  Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy 
  Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me. 
  Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye, 
  I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched 
  Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours? 
  There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, 
  That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine, 
  More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; 
  And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer, 
  Neuer to hope againe. 
  Enter Cromwell, standing amazed. 
  Why how now Cromwell? 
    Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir 
     Car. What, amaz'd 
  At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder 
  A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep 
  I am falne indeed 
     Crom. How does your Grace 
     Card. Why well: 
  Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell, 
  I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, 
  A peace aboue all earthly Dignities, 
  A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, 
  I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders 
  These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken 
  A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.) 
  O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden 
  Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen 
     Crom. I am glad your Grace, 
  Ha's made that right vse of it 
     Card. I hope I haue: 
  I am able now (me thinkes) 
  (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele) 
  To endure more Miseries, and greater farre 
  Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer. 
  What Newes abroad? 
    Crom. The heauiest, and the worst, 
  Is your displeasure with the King 
     Card. God blesse him 
     Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen 
  Lord Chancellor, in your place 
     Card. That's somewhat sodain. 
  But he's a Learned man. May he continue 
  Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice 
  For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones, 
  When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings, 
  May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him. 
  What more? 
    Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; 
  Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury 
     Card. That's Newes indeed 
     Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, 
  Whom the King hath in secrecie long married, 
  This day was view'd in open, as his Queene, 
  Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now 
  Onely about her Corronation 
     Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe. 
  O Cromwell, 
  The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories 
  In that one woman, I haue lost for euer. 
  No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors, 
  Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted 
  Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel, 
  I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now 
  To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King 
  (That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him, 
  What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee: 
  Some little memory of me, will stirre him 
  (I know his Noble Nature) not to let 
  Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell 
  Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide 
  For thine owne future safety 
     Crom. O my Lord, 
  Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo 
  So good, so Noble, and so true a Master? 
  Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron, 
  With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord. 
  The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres 
  For euer, and for euer shall be yours 
     Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare 
  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 farre heare me Cromwel, 
  And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
  And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention 
  Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee; 
  Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory, 
  And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor, 
  Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in: 
  A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it. 
  Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me: 
  Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, 
  By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then 
  (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? 
  Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; 
  Corruption wins not more then Honesty. 
  Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace 
  To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not; 
  Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries, 
  Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) 
  Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. 
  Serue the King: And prythee leade me in: 
  There take an Inuentory of all I haue, 
  To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, 
  And my Integrity to Heauen, is all, 
  I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, 
  Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale 
  I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age 
  Haue left me naked to mine Enemies 
     Crom. Good Sir, haue patience 
     Card. So I haue. Farewell 
  The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell. 
  Exeunt. 
  Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. 
  Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. 
    1 Y'are well met once againe 
     2 So are you 
     1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold 
  The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation 
     2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter, 
  The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall 
     1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow, 
  This generall ioy 
     2 'Tis well: The Citizens 
  I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds, 
  As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward 
  In Celebration of this day with Shewes, 
  Pageants, and Sights of Honor 
     1 Neuer greater, 
  Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir 
     2 May I be bold to aske what that containes, 
  That Paper in your hand 
     1 Yes, 'tis the List 
  Of those that claime their Offices this day, 
  By custome of the Coronation. 
  The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes 
  To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke, 
  He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest 
     1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs, 
  I should haue beene beholding to your Paper: 
  But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine 
  The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse? 
    1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop 
  Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
  Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order, 
  Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off 
  From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which 
  She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not: 
  And to be short, for not Appearance, and 
  The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent 
  Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd, 
  And the late Marriage made of none effect: 
  Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton, 
  Where she remaines now sicke 
     2 Alas good Lady. 
  The Trumpets sound: Stand close, 
  The Queene is comming. 
  Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of 
  Trumpets. 2 
  Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before 
  him. 4 
  Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the 
  Mace. Then 
  Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt 
  Copper 
  Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his 
  head, a 
  Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the 
  Rod of 
  Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of 
  Esses. 7 
  Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head, 
  bearing 
  a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of 
  Norfolke, with 
  the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8 
  A 
  Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in 
  her 
  Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each 
  side her, 
  the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of 
  Norfolke, 
  in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes 
  Traine. 10 
  Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold, 
  without 
  Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State, 
  and 
  then, A great Flourish of Trumpets. 
    2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know: 
  Who's that that beares the Scepter? 
    1 Marquesse Dorset, 
  And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod 
     2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee 
  The Duke of Suffolke 
     1 'Tis the same: high Steward 
     2 And that my Lord of Norfolke? 
    1 Yes 
     2 Heauen blesse thee, 
  Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on. 
  Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell; 
  Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes, 
  And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady, 
  I cannot blame his Conscience 
     1 They that beare 
  The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons 
  Of the Cinque-Ports 
     2 Those men are happy, 
  And so are all, are neere her. 
  I take it, she that carries vp the Traine, 
  Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke 
     1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses 
     2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed, 
  And sometimes falling ones 
     2 No more of that. 
  Enter a third Gentleman. 
    1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling? 
    3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger 
  Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled 
  With the meere ranknesse of their ioy 
     2 You saw the Ceremony? 
    3 That I did 
     1 How was it? 
    3 Well worth the seeing 
     2 Good Sir, speake it to vs? 
    3 As well as I am able. The rich streame 
  Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene 
  To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off 
  A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe 
  To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so, 
  In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely 
  The Beauty of her Person to the People. 
  Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman 
  That euer lay by man: which when the people 
  Had the full view of, such a noyse arose, 
  As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest, 
  As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes, 
  (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces 
  Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy 
  I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women, 
  That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes 
  In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease 
  And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing 
  Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen 
  So strangely in one peece 
     2 But what follow'd? 
    3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces 
  Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like 
  Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly. 
  Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people: 
  When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury, 
  She had all the Royall makings of a Queene; 
  As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne, 
  The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes 
  Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire 
  With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome, 
  Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, 
  And with the same full State pac'd backe againe 
  To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held 
     1 Sir, 
  You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past: 
  For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost, 
  'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall 
     3 I know it: 
  But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name 
  Is fresh about me 
     2 What two Reuerend Byshops 
  Were those that went on each side of the Queene? 
    3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, 
  Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary: 
  The other London 
     2 He of Winchester 
  Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops, 
  The vertuous Cranmer 
     3 All the Land knowes that: 
  How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes 
  Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him 
     2 Who may that be, I pray you 
     3 Thomas Cromwell, 
  A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly 
  A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him 
  Master o'th' Iewell House, 
  And one already of the Priuy Councell 
     2 He will deserue more 
     3 Yes without all doubt. 
  Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way, 
  Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: 
  Something I can command. As I walke thither, 
  Ile tell ye more 
     Both. You may command vs Sir. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Secunda. 
  Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her 
  Gentleman 
  Vsher, and Patience her Woman. 
    Grif. How do's your Grace? 
    Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death: 
  My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth, 
  Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire, 
  So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease. 
  Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, 
  That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey 
  Was dead? 
    Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace 
  Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't 
     Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. 
  If well, he stept before me happily 
  For my example 
     Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam, 
  For after the stout Earle Northumberland 
  Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward 
  As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer, 
  He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill 
  He could not sit his Mule 
     Kath. Alas poore man 
     Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester, 
  Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot 
  With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him; 
  To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot, 
  An old man, broken with the stormes of State, 
  Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: 
  Giue him a little earth for Charity. 
  So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse 
  Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this, 
  About the houre of eight, which he himselfe 
  Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, 
  Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, 
  He gaue his Honors to the world agen, 
  His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace 
     Kath. So may he rest, 
  His Faults lye gently on him: 
  Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him, 
  And yet with Charity. He was a man 
  Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking 
  Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion 
  Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play, 
  His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence 
  He would say vntruths, and be euer double 
  Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer 
  (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull. 
  His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: 
  But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: 
  Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue 
  The Clergy ill example 
     Grif. Noble Madam: 
  Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues 
  We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse 
  To heare me speake his good now? 
    Kath. Yes good Griffith, 
  I were malicious else 
     Grif. This Cardinall, 
  Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly 
  Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle 
  He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one: 
  Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading: 
  Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not: 
  But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. 
  And though he were vnsatisfied in getting, 
  (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam, 
  He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him 
  Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you, 
  Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him, 
  Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it. 
  The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous, 
  So excellent in Art, and still so rising, 
  That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue. 
  His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him: 
  For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, 
  And found the Blessednesse of being little. 
  And to adde greater Honors to his Age 
  Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God 
     Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald, 
  No other speaker of my liuing Actions, 
  To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption, 
  But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith. 
  Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee 
  With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie, 
  (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him. 
  Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower, 
  I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, 
  Cause the Musitians play me that sad note 
  I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating 
  On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too. 
  Sad and solemne Musicke. 
    Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, 
  For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. 
  The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe 
  Personages, 
  clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, 
  and golden 
  Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands. 
  They 
  first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first 
  two 
  hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make 
  reuerend 
  Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to 
  the other 
  next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and 
  holding the 
  Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland 
  to the 
  last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it 
  were by 
  inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and 
  holdeth vp 
  her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the 
  Garland 
  with them. The Musicke continues. 
    Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? 
  And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye? 
    Grif. Madam, we are heere 
     Kath. It is not you I call for, 
  Saw ye none enter since I slept? 
    Grif. None Madam 
     Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope 
  Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces 
  Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun? 
  They promis'd me eternall Happinesse, 
  And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele 
  I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly 
     Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames 
  Possesse your Fancy 
     Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue, 
  They are harsh and heauy to me. 
  Musicke ceases. 
    Pati. Do you note 
  How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine? 
  How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes, 
  And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes? 
    Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray 
     Pati. Heauen comfort her. 
  Enter a Messenger. 
    Mes. And't like your Grace - 
    Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow, 
  Deserue we no more Reuerence? 
    Grif. You are too blame, 
  Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse 
  To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele 
     Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon, 
  My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying 
  A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you 
     Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow 
  Let me ne're see againe. 
  Exit Messeng. 
  Enter Lord Capuchius. 
  If my sight faile not, 
  You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, 
  My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius 
     Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant 
     Kath. 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? 
    Cap. Noble Lady, 
  First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next 
  The Kings request, that I would visit you, 
  Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me 
  Sends you his Princely Commendations, 
  And heartily entreats you take good comfort 
     Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 
  'Tis like a Pardon after Execution; 
  That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me: 
  But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers. 
  How does his Highnesse? 
    Cap. Madam, in good health 
     Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish, 
  When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name 
  Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter 
  I caus'd you write, yet sent away? 
    Pat. No Madam 
     Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer 
  This to my Lord the King 
     Cap. Most willing Madam 
     Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse 
  The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter, 
  The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her, 
  Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding. 
  She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature, 
  I hope she will deserue well; and a little 
  To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him, 
  Heauen knowes how deerely. 
  My next poore Petition, 
  Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie 
  Vpon my wretched women, that so long 
  Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully, 
  Of which there is not one, I dare auow 
  (And now I should not lye) but will deserue 
  For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule, 
  For honestie, and decent Carriage 
  A right good Husband (let him be a Noble) 
  And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em. 
  The last is for my men, they are the poorest, 
  (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me) 
  That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em, 
  And something ouer to remember me by. 
  If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life 
  And able meanes, we had not parted thus. 
  These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord, 
  By that you loue the deerest in this world, 
  As you wish Christian peace to soules departed, 
  Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King 
  To do me this last right 
     Cap. By Heauen I will, 
  Or let me loose the fashion of a man 
     Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me 
  In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse: 
  Say his long trouble now is passing 
  Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him 
  (For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell 
  My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience, 
  You must not leaue me yet. I must to bed, 
  Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench, 
  Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer 
  With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know 
  I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me, 
  Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like 
  A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me. 
  I can no more. 
  Exeunt. leading Katherine. 
  Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. 
  Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before 
  him, met 
  by Sir Thomas Louell. 
    Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not 
     Boy. It hath strooke 
     Gard. These should be houres for necessities, 
  Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature 
  With comforting repose, and not for vs 
  To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas: 
  Whether so late? 
    Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord? 
    Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero 
  With the Duke of Suffolke 
     Lou. I must to him too 
  Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue 
     Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter? 
  It seemes you are in hast: and if there be 
  No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend 
  Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke 
  (As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haue 
  In them a wilder Nature, then the businesse 
  That seekes dispatch by day 
     Lou. My Lord, I loue you; 
  And durst commend a secret to your eare 
  Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor 
  They say in great Extremity, and fear'd 
  Shee'l with the Labour, end 
     Gard. The fruite she goes with 
  I pray for heartily, that it may finde 
  Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas, 
  I wish it grubb'd vp now 
     Lou. Me thinkes I could 
  Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes 
  Shee's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie do's 
  Deserue our better wishes 
     Gard. But Sir, Sir, 
  Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman 
  Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious, 
  And let me tell you, it will ne're be well, 
  'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me, 
  Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee 
  Sleepe in their Graues 
     Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two 
  The most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell, 
  Beside that of the Iewell-House, is made Master 
  O'th' Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir, 
  Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments, 
  With which the Lime will loade him. Th' Archbyshop 
  Is the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speak 
  One syllable against him? 
    Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, 
  There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd 
  To speake my minde of him: and indeed this day, 
  Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue 
  Incenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is 
  (For so I know he is, they know he is) 
  A most Arch-Heretique, a Pestilence 
  That does infect the Land: with which, they moued 
  Haue broken with the King, who hath so farre 
  Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace, 
  And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes, 
  Our Reasons layd before him, hath commanded 
  To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord 
  He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas, 
  And we must root him out. From your Affaires 
  I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas. 
  Exit Gardiner and Page. 
    Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant. 
  Enter King and Suffolke. 
    King. Charles, I will play no more to night, 
  My mindes not on't, you are too hard for me 
     Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before 
     King. But little Charles, 
  Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play. 
  Now Louel, from the Queene what is the Newes 
     Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her 
  What you commanded me, but by her woman, 
  I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes 
  In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse 
  Most heartily to pray for her 
     King. What say'st thou? Ha? 
  To pray for her? What is she crying out? 
    Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made 
  Almost each pang, a death 
     King. Alas good Lady 
     Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and 
  With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of 
  Your Highnesse with an Heire 
     King. 'Tis midnight Charles, 
  Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember 
  Th' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone, 
  For I must thinke of that, which company 
  Would not be friendly too 
     Suf. I wish your Highnesse 
  A quiet night, and my good Mistris will 
  Remember in my Prayers 
     King. Charles good night. 
  Exit Suffolke. 
  Well Sir, what followes? 
  Enter Sir Anthony Denny. 
    Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop, 
  As you commanded me 
     King. Ha? Canterbury? 
    Den. I my good Lord 
     King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny? 
    Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure 
     King. Bring him to Vs 
     Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake, 
  I am happily come hither. 
  Enter Cranmer and Denny. 
    King. Auoyd the Gallery. 
  Louel seemes to stay. 
  Ha? I haue said. Be gone. 
  What? 
  Exeunt. Louell and Denny. 
    Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus? 
  'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well 
     King. How now my Lord? 
  You do desire to know wherefore 
  I sent for you 
     Cran. It is my dutie 
  T' attend your Highnesse pleasure 
     King. Pray you arise 
  My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie: 
  Come, you and I must walke a turne together: 
  I haue Newes to tell you. 
  Come, come, giue me your hand. 
  Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake, 
  And am right sorrie to repeat what followes. 
  I haue, and most vnwillingly of late 
  Heard many greeuous, I do say my Lord 
  Greeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd, 
  Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall 
  This Morning come before vs, where I know 
  You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe, 
  But that till further Triall, in those Charges 
  Which will require your Answer, you must take 
  Your patience to you, and be well contented 
  To make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vs 
  It fits we thus proceed, or else no witnesse 
  Would come against you 
     Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse, 
  And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
  Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe 
  And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know 
  There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues, 
  Then I my selfe, poore man 
     King. Stand vp, good Canterbury, 
  Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted 
  In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp, 
  Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame, 
  What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd 
  You would haue giuen me your Petition, that 
  I should haue tane some paines, to bring together 
  Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you 
  Without indurance further 
     Cran. Most dread Liege, 
  The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie: 
  If they shall faile, I with mine Enemies 
  Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not, 
  Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothing 
  What can be said against me 
     King. Know you not 
  How your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world? 
  Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practises 
  Must beare the same proportion, and not euer 
  The Iustice and the Truth o'th' question carries 
  The dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what ease 
  Might corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt 
  To sweare against you: Such things haue bene done. 
  You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice 
  Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke, 
  I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then your Master, 
  Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd 
  Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too, 
  You take a Precepit for no leape of danger, 
  And woe your owne destruction 
     Cran. God, and your Maiesty 
  Protect mine innocence, or I fall into 
  The trap is laid for me 
     King. Be of good cheere, 
  They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too: 
  Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning see 
  You do appeare before them. If they shall chance 
  In charging you with matters, to commit you: 
  The best perswasions to the contrary 
  Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie 
  Th' occasion shall instruct you. If intreaties 
  Will render you no remedy, this Ring 
  Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs 
  There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps: 
  He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother, 
  I sweare he is true-hearted, and a soule 
  None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone, 
  And do as I haue bid you. 
  Exit Cranmer. 
  He ha's strangled his Language in his teares. 
  Enter Olde Lady. 
    Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you? 
    Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring 
  Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good Angels 
  Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person 
  Vnder their blessed wings 
     King. Now by thy lookes 
  I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd? 
  Say I, and of a boy 
     Lady. I, I my Liege, 
  And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen 
  Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle 
  Promises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen 
  Desires your Visitation, and to be 
  Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you, 
  As Cherry, is to Cherry 
     King. Louell 
     Lou. Sir 
     King. Giue her an hundred Markes. 
  Ile to the Queene. 
  Exit King. 
    Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more. 
  An ordinary Groome is for such payment. 
  I will haue more, or scold it out of him. 
  Said I for this, the Gyrle was like to him? Ile 
  Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis hot, 
  Ile put it to the issue. 
  Exit Ladie. 
  Scena Secunda. 
  Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury. 
    Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman 
  That was sent to me from the Councell, pray'd me 
  To make great hast. All fast? What meanes this? Hoa? 
  Who waites there? Sure you know me? 
  Enter Keeper. 
    Keep. Yes, my Lord: 
  But yet I cannot helpe you 
     Cran. Why? 
    Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for. 
  Enter Doctor Buts. 
    Cran. So 
     Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad 
  I came this way so happily. The King 
  Shall vnderstand it presently. 
  Exit Buts 
    Cran. 'Tis Buts. 
  The Kings Physitian, as he past along 
  How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me: 
  Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaine 
  This is of purpose laid by some that hate me, 
  (God turne their hearts, I neuer sought their malice) 
  To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me 
  Wait else at doore: a fellow Councellor 
  'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes. 
  But their pleasures 
  Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. 
  Enter the King, and Buts, at a Windowe aboue. 
    Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight 
     King. What's that Buts? 
    Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day 
     Kin. Body a me: where is it? 
    Butts. There my Lord: 
  The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, 
  Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Purseuants, 
  Pages, and Foot-boyes 
     Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed. 
  Is this the Honour they doe one another? 
  'Tis well there's one aboue '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 neere our fauour 
  To dance attendance on their Lordships pleasures, 
  And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets: 
  By holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery; 
  Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close: 
  We shall heare more anon. 
  A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed 
  vnder 
  the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end 
  of the 
  Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for 
  Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey, 
  Lord 
   
   
   
   
  Chamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side. 
  Cromwell at 
  lower end, as Secretary. 
    Chan. Speake to the businesse, M[aster]. Secretary; 
  Why are we met in Councell? 
    Crom. Please your Honours, 
  The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury 
     Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it? 
    Crom. Yes 
     Norf. Who waits there? 
    Keep. Without my Noble Lords? 
    Gard. Yes 
     Keep. My Lord Archbishop: 
  And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures 
     Chan. Let him come in 
     Keep. Your Grace may enter now. 
  Cranmer approches the Councell Table. 
    Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry 
  To sit heere at this present, and behold 
  That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men 
  In our owne natures fraile, and capable 
  Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty 
  And want of wisedome, you that best should teach vs, 
  Haue misdemean'd your selfe, and not a little: 
  Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling 
  The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines 
  (For so we are inform'd) with new opinions, 
  Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies; 
  And not reform'd, may proue pernicious 
     Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too 
  My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses, 
  Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle; 
  But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em, 
  Till they obey the mannage. If we suffer 
  Out of our easinesse and childish pitty 
  To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse; 
  Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then? 
  Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint 
  Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours, 
  The vpper Germany can deerely witnesse: 
  Yet freshly pittied in our memories 
     Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse 
  Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd, 
  And with no little study, that my teaching 
  And the strong course of my Authority, 
  Might goe one way, and safely; and the end 
  Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing, 
  (I speake it with a single heart, my Lords) 
  A man that more detests, more stirres against, 
  Both in his priuate Conscience, and his place, 
  Defacers of a publique peace then I doe: 
  Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart 
  With lesse Allegeance in it. Men that make 
  Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment; 
  Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your, Lordships, 
  That in this case of Iustice, my Accusers, 
  Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, 
  And freely vrge against me 
     Suff. Nay, my Lord, 
  That cannot be; you are a Counsellor, 
  And by that vertue no man dare accuse you 
     Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more moment, 
  We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure 
  And our consent, for better tryall of you, 
  From hence you be committed to the Tower, 
  Where being but a priuate man againe, 
  You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, 
  More then (I feare) you are prouided for 
     Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you, 
  You are alwayes my good Friend, if your will passe, 
  I shall both finde your Lordship, Iudge and Iuror, 
  You are so mercifull. I see your end, 
  'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord 
  Become a Churchman, better then Ambition: 
  Win straying Soules with modesty againe, 
  Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe, 
  Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience, 
  I make as little doubt as you doe conscience, 
  In doing dayly wrongs. I could say more, 
  But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest 
     Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary, 
  That's the plaine truth; your painted glosse discouers 
  To men that vnderstand you, words and weaknesse 
     Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little, 
  By your good fauour, too sharpe; Men so Noble, 
  How euer faulty, yet should finde respect 
  For what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty, 
  To load a falling man 
     Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary, 
  I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst 
  Of all this Table say so 
     Crom. Why my Lord? 
    Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer 
  Of this new Sect? ye are not sound 
     Crom. Not sound? 
    Gard. Not sound I say 
     Crom. Would you were halfe so honest: 
  Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares 
     Gard. I shall remember this bold Language 
     Crom. Doe. 
  Remember your bold life too 
     Cham. This is too much; 
  Forbeare for shame my Lords 
     Gard. I haue done 
     Crom. And I 
     Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed 
  I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith, 
  You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner; 
  There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure 
  Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords 
     All. We are 
     Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, 
  But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords? 
    Gard. What other, 
  Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome: 
  Let some o'th' Guard be ready there. 
  Enter the Guard. 
    Cran. For me? 
  Must I goe like a Traytor thither? 
    Gard. Receiue him, 
  And see him safe i'th' Tower 
     Cran. Stay good my Lords, 
  I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords, 
  By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause 
  Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it 
  To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister 
     Cham. This is the Kings Ring 
     Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit 
     Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all, 
  When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling, 
  'Twold fall vpon our selues 
     Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords 
  The King will suffer but the little finger 
  Of this man to be vex'd? 
    Cham. Tis now too certaine; 
  How much more is his Life in value with him? 
  Would I were fairely out on't 
     Crom. My mind gaue me, 
  In seeking tales and Informations 
  Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell 
  And his Disciples onely enuy at, 
  Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye. 
  Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate. 
    Gard. Dread Soueraigne, 
  How much are we bound to Heauen, 
  In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince; 
  Not onely good and wise, but most religious: 
  One that in all obedience, makes the Church 
  The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen 
  That holy duty out of deare respect, 
  His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare 
  The cause betwixt her, and this great offender 
     Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations, 
  Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not 
  To heare such flattery now, and in my presence 
  They are too thin, and base to hide offences, 
  To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell, 
  And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me: 
  But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure 
  Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody. 
  Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest 
  Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. 
  By all that's holy, he had better starue, 
  Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not 
     Sur. May it please your Grace; - 
    Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me, 
  I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding, 
  And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none: 
  Was it discretion Lords, to let this man, 
  This good man (few of you deserue that Title) 
  This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy 
  At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are? 
  Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission 
  Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye 
  Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him, 
  Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see, 
  More out of Malice then Integrity, 
  Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane, 
  Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue 
     Chan. Thus farre 
  My most dread Soueraigne, 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 Tryall, 
  And faire purgation to the world then malice, 
  I'm sure in me 
     Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him, 
  Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it. 
  I will say thus much for him, if a Prince 
  May be beholding to a Subiect; I 
  Am for his loue and seruice, so to him. 
  Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him; 
  Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury 
  I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee. 
  That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme, 
  You must be Godfather, and answere for her 
     Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory 
  In such an honour: how may I deserue it, 
  That am a poore and humble Subiect to you? 
    Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones; 
  You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old 
  Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will 
  these please you? 
  Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you 
  Embrace, and loue this man 
     Gard. With a true heart, 
  And Brother; loue I doe it 
     Cran. And let Heauen 
  Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation 
     Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts, 
  The common voyce I see is verified 
  Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury 
  A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer: 
  Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long 
  To haue this young one made a Christian. 
  As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine: 
  So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Tertia. 
  Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man. 
    Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe 
  you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues, 
  leaue your gaping 
     Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder 
     Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: 
  Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree 
  staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: 
  Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings? 
  Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude 
  Raskalls? 
    Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, 
  Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons, 
  To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe 
  On May-day Morning, which will neuer be: 
  We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em 
     Por. How got they in, and be hang'd? 
    Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in? 
  As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote, 
  (You see the poore remainder) could distribute, 
  I made no spare Sir 
     Port. You did nothing Sir 
     Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, 
  To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any 
  That had a head to hit, either young or old, 
  He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker: 
  Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe, 
  And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her 
     Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter? 
    Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy, 
  Keepe the dore close Sirha 
     Man. What would you haue me doe? 
    Por. What should you doe, 
  But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields 
  to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the 
  great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs? 
  Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my 
  Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a 
  thousand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all together 
     Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is 
  a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier 
  by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes 
  now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are 
  vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake 
  did I hit three times on the head, and three times 
  was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there 
  like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers 
  Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me, 
  till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling 
  such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once, 
  and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I 
  might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to 
  her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she 
  was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at 
  length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em 
  stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot, 
  deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to 
  draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the 
  Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely 
     Por. 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 Limbes of Limehouse, 
  their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of 
  'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance 
  these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two 
  Beadles, that is to come. 
  Enter Lord Chamberlaine. 
    Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere? 
  They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming, 
  As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters? 
  These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes? 
  Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these 
  Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue 
  Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies, 
  When they passe backe from the Christening? 
    Por. And't please your Honour, 
  We are but men; and what so many may doe, 
  Not being torne a pieces, we haue done: 
  An Army cannot rule 'em 
     Cham. As I liue, 
  If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all 
  By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads 
  Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues, 
  And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when 
  Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound, 
  Th'are come already from the Christening, 
  Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out 
  To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde 
  A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes 
     Por. Make way there, for the Princesse 
     Man. You great fellow, 
  Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake 
     Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile, 
  Ile pecke you o're the pales else. 
  Exeunt. 
  Scena Quarta. 
  Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior, 
  Garter, 
  Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of 
  Suffolke, two 
  Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening 
  Guifts: Then 
  foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of 
  Norfolke, 
  Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c. 
  Traine borne 
  by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other 
  Godmother, and 
  Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter 
  speakes. 
    Gart. Heauen 
  From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life, 
  Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty 
  Princesse of England Elizabeth. 
  Flourish. Enter King and Guard. 
    Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen, 
  My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray 
  All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady, 
  Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy, 
  May hourely fall vpon ye 
     Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop: 
  What is her Name? 
    Cran. Elizabeth 
     Kin. Stand vp Lord, 
  With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee, 
  Into whose hand, I giue thy Life 
     Cran. Amen 
     Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall; 
  I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady, 
  When she ha's so much English 
     Cran. Let me speake Sir, 
  For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter, 
  Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth. 
  This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her; 
  Though in her Cradle; yet now promises 
  Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings, 
  Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be, 
  (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse) 
  A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her, 
  And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer 
  More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue 
  Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces 
  That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is, 
  With all the Vertues that attend the good, 
  Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her, 
  Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her: 
  She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her; 
  Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne, 
  And hang their heads with sorrow: 
  Good growes with her. 
  In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety, 
  Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing 
  The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours. 
  God shall be truely knowne, and those about her, 
  From her shall read the perfect way of Honour, 
  And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood. 
  Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when 
  The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix, 
  Her Ashes new create another Heyre, 
  As great in admiration as her selfe. 
  So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One, 
  (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes) 
  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, Loue, Truth, Terror, 
  That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant, 
  Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him; 
  Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine, 
  His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name, 
  Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish, 
  And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches, 
  To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children 
  Shall see this, and blesse Heauen 
     Kin. Thou speakest wonders 
     Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England, 
  An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her, 
  And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it. 
  Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye, 
  She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin, 
  A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe 
  To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her 
     Kin. O Lord Archbishop 
  Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before 
  This happy Child, did I get any thing. 
  This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me, 
  That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire 
  To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker. 
  I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior, 
  And you good Brethren, I am much beholding: 
  I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence, 
  And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords, 
  Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye, 
  She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke 
  'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay: 
  This Little-One shall make it Holy-day. 
  Exeunt. 
    THE EPILOGVE.  
  Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please 
  All that are heere: Some come to take their ease, 
  And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare 
  W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare, 
  They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City 
  Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty, 
  Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare 
  All the expected good w'are like to heare. 
  For this Play at this time, is onely in 
  The mercifull construction of good women, 
  For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile, 
  And say twill doe; I know within a while, 
  All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, 
  If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap. 
  FINIS.  
   
   
   Publication Date: May 29th 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.shakespeare