prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The king, leaning on Wolsey's shoulder, thanks him for foiling Buckingham's treasonous plot. He asks for Buckingham's Surveyor, who had testified against his master, to be brought before him so that he can hear his evidence. Queen Katherine enters, with the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and kneels before the king. The king greets her and bids her rise, but she insists on remaining on her knees, since she is going to make a request of him. She explains that she has been asked to intercede with the king by his subjects, who are upset at the levying of new taxes. The people especially blame Wolsey, who originated the taxes, but their anger is also directed at the king, who is ultimately responsible. She fears that rebellion will break out. Norfolk backs up her argument, saying that employers have had to lay off their employees in order to pay the taxes, creating a desperate class of unemployed and starving people. The king says he is unaware of the new tax. Katherine explains that each subject is being asked to pay one sixth of his worth to pay for the king's wars in France, and that this is turning formerly loyal subjects hostile. The king says he is unhappy about the tax. Wolsey protests that the tax was levied unanimously by the entire king's Council and approved by the judges; his was only "a single voice" in the decision. He says that we should not refrain from doing necessary actions out of fear of malicious critics. He adds that our best actions are often the most criticised, and our worst, the most praised. The king replies that things that are carefully thought out do not create fear in the people. Believing that the tax is far too harsh, he tells Wolsey to revoke it and send letters to each county issuing a free pardon for any man who has refused to pay. Wolsey passes this order on to his secretary, but tells him to start a rumor that it is at Wolsey's request that the king revoked the tax. Buckingham's former Surveyor comes in. Katherine tells the king that she regrets that he is displeased with Buckingham. The king praises Buckingham's noble qualities, but says that he has become corrupted. He asks the Surveyor to repeat his evidence so that Katherine can hear it. The Surveyor says that Buckingham told his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny, that if the king died without a male heir, he himself would claim the throne. A friar, Nicholas Henton, had encouraged Buckingham to believe that he could be king. Katherine points out that Buckingham had fired the Surveyor when his tenants complained about him. She warns that the Surveyor could be giving false evidence to gain revenge on his former master. But the king asks the Surveyor to continue. The Surveyor vows that he is telling the truth. He goes on to say that Buckingham had said that if the king died, he  would have Wolsey and Sir Thomas Lovell executed in order to clear his path to the throne. The Surveyor also claims that Buckingham had told a story about his father, who had planned to kill Richard III to prevent him from usurping the throne, but had been foiled when he could not gain admittance to Richard. Buckingham, the Surveyor says, had vowed to outdo his father and kill King Henry VIII. The king is convinced that Buckingham is a traitor and orders that he be brought to trial immediately.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands are making fun of the odd fashions that have been brought back to the English court by nobles who went to France. Sir Thomas Lovell enters with the news that a proclamation has been issued at the court urging people to abandon the French fashions. The three men agree that this is a good idea. Lovell says that he is going to Wolsey's house for a lavish supper, and that the Lord Chamberlain and Sands are also invited. They agree that Wolsey is generous, and set out for Wolsey's house, St James's Palace. At St James's Palace, Sir Henry Guilford greets the guests on behalf of Wolsey. Among the guests is Anne Bullen , who will become King Henry's second wife. Sands flirts with Anne. Wolsey enters and sits on the chair of state. A group of strangers is shown in by a Servant. Their faces are covered with masks and they are pretending to be foreign shepherds, seemingly from France. In reality, this is the king and some of his courtiers in disguise. The strangers greet Wolsey. The Lord Chamberlain explains to him that they speak no English, but that they have heard impressive tales of Wolsey's party and could not fail to attend. Wolsey welcomes them. The disguised king meets Anne and is struck by her beauty. He dances with Anne, and the rest of his party dance with other ladies. After the dance ends, Wolsey asks the Lord Chamberlain to tell the strangers that there is one among them who is more worthy of his chair of state than he is himself. If that person would make himself known, he would surrender it to him. The Lord Chamberlain conveys this suggestion to the strangers and they reply, saying that there is such a person, and that Wolsey must guess which is he. Wolsey correctly identifies the king, who takes off his mask. The king compliments Wolsey on the large number of beautiful women present, warning that if he were not a churchman , he would judge him unfavorably. The king asks Wolsey the identity of the beautiful woman he just met, and Wolsey replies that it was Anne Bullen, daughter of Sir Thomas Bullen and lady-in-waiting to Queen Katherine. The king tells Anne that it was bad manners on his part to dance with her and not kiss her, which he does now. He is reluctant to part with her and orders the music to strike up for another dance.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Two Gentlemen meet in the street. The Second Gentleman is on his way to see the trial of the Duke of Buckingham. The First Gentleman says that he is too late: it is over. Buckingham pleaded not guilty and spoke eloquently in his defense, but he was found guilty of treason. Those who testified against him included his Surveyor; Sir Gilbert Perk, his chancellor ; John Car, his confessor; and the friar, Nicholas Hopkins , who encouraged Buckingham to believe he should be king. The Second Gentleman says that Wolsey is responsible for all this. Wolsey has also been sending nobles favored by the king to distant parts. The Second Gentleman says that the people's representatives in Parliament  hate Wolsey, and "wish him ten faddom deep," that is, at the bottom of the sea. On the other hand, they adore Buckingham. They are interrupted by the entrance of Buckingham, surrounded by an armed guard and accompanied by Lovell, Vaux, Sands, and common people. Buckingham makes a speech, in which he swears his loyalty to the king and says he does not criticise the law, but "those that sought it I could wish more Christians" - a reference to Wolsey. He forgives them, but warns them not to indulge in mischief or use the deaths of more noblemen for their own ends. Lovell asks Buckingham to forgive him, which he does. Buckingham invokes blessings on the king and says he will pray for his long life. Vaux wants to make the barge that is to carry Buckingham to his execution fit for a Duke, but Buckingham refuses, saying that his high status is now meaningless. He criticises his "base accusers," who "never knew what truth meant." He speaks of his father, who had loyally served Richard III but was betrayed by him. Richard had been succeeded by King Henry VII, who had restored the Buckingham family honors. But now Henry VII's son, Henry VIII, had taken everything from him once again. Buckingham counsels those present to be careful with their friendship and asks them to pray for him. Then he is led away. The two Gentlemen comment that if Buckingham is innocent, his accusers will suffer "curses on their heads. " The Second Gentleman says that evil greater than this is already on the horizon. He has heard a rumor that the king plans to separate from Katherine. He says that Wolsey, out of malice to Katherine, has introduced doubts into the king's mind that threaten to ruin her. Cardinal Campeius, an envoy from the Pope, has arrived to discuss the matter. The First Gentleman says that Wolsey is doing this to avenge himself on the Holy Roman Emperor and Katherine's nephew, Charles V, for refusing to make him archbishop of Toledo. The two Gentlemen express sympathy for Katherine and leave to talk in private.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The Lord Chamberlain is reading a letter from one of his employees. The letter tells how Wolsey's man stole some horses from him that he had purchased on the Lord Chamberlain's behalf, declaring that his master  should have them, rather than a mere subject, or even the king himself. The Lord Chamberlain believes that Wolsey will take everything from the nobles to enrich himself. The Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk enter. Suffolk asks after the king, and the Lord Chamberlain says he is troubled in his conscience because he married his brother's wife . Suffolk privately thinks that it is less a matter of conscience than the king's attraction to another woman . Norfolk says this is Wolsey's doing. He is amazed that Wolsey has so efficiently managed to break the alliance between Charles V and King Henry, and to make the King doubt the legality of his marriage of twenty years to his loving and virtuous wife, Katherine. The Lord Chamberlain says that people everywhere are talking of this, and that they are sad at the news. He says that Wolsey has engineered the situation in order to arrange a marriage between King Henry and the French king's sister. He predicts that one day, God will open the king's eyes so that he can see Wolsey for who he is. Norfolk and Suffolk agree that Wolsey is too proud. Norfolk and Suffolk visit the king, with the aim of distracting him from his sad thoughts. When they find him, he is angry at being disturbed. Then Wolsey comes in with Campeius. The king welcomes Wolsey as "The quiet of my wounded conscience" . Wolsey asks the king to give him and Campeius an hour of private conference. The king abruptly dismisses Norfolk and Suffolk. As they leave, they mutter threateningly about Wolsey. Wolsey tells the king that no one could object to his separating from Katherine because the king has consulted all the learned clergy of Christendom, including the Pope, who has sent Campeius as his envoy. The king agrees that Katherine should have the best scholars to argue for her. He asks for Gardiner, his new secretary, who was previously employed by Wolsey, to be sent in. As Gardiner enters, he assures Wolsey, in an aside, that his loyalty is still to him. Campeius asks Wolsey about Dr Pace, the man who occupied Gardiner's position before him. Campeius tells Wolsey that there are rumors that Wolsey was envious of him and kept him in foreign posts until he went mad with grief and died. Wolsey dismisses Pace as a virtuous fool. The king says that he will go to Blackfriars to announce his decision to leave Katherine. He is sorry to leave "so sweet a bedfellow," but his conscience demands it.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Anne Bullen tells the Old Lady how sad it is to think of so good a lady as Katherine being put aside after so many years as queen. She thinks it is better to be low-born and never to have known power than to lose it in this way. She says that she would not want to be a queen. The Old Lady says she is being hypocritical, as it is natural to enjoy wealth and power. While Anne insists that she would not be queen "for all the riches under heaven," the Old Lady says she herself would be queen for a few pennies. The Old Lady asks Anne if she would be strong enough to be a duchess. Anne says no. The Old Lady teases her by saying that in that case, she would not be strong enough to bear a male child. The Lord Chamberlain comes in and tells Anne that the king's high opinion of her has led him to make her Marchioness of Pembroke and give her a thousand pounds a year. Anne says that she can only offer her thanks in return, and that she prays for the king. As the Lord Chamberlain is leaving, he notes Anne's beauty and honor in an aside to the audience, and says that she may produce an heir for the king. The Old Lady says that she has been at court for sixteen years and never gained any advantage from it, whereas Anne has been given all she could wish for without having to try. The Old Lady reminds Anne that she did not want to be a queen. She is incredulous that the king is honoring Anne so highly just out of respect, and wonders if any other obligation is involved. She thinks that perhaps Anne feels strong enough now to be a duchess. Anne wonders what will happen next. She asks the Old Lady not to tell Katherine about her new title, and goes off to comfort her.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: At Blackfriars, various bishops and officials have convened to decide the question of the king's marriage to Katherine. Wolsey asks for the decision from Rome to be read out, but the king says there is no need as it has already been read, and there is no need to do it again. Katherine goes directly to the king and kneels at his feet. She asks for justice and pity, as she is a woman and a foreigner and therefore fears that there is no impartial judge in England. She asks the king how she has offended him, as she has been a true and obedient wife to him. She has been married to him for twenty years, and they have had many children together. If anyone can prove that she has been unfaithful or has failed in her love and duty to the king, then she accepts that she should be turned away. She adds that Henry's father and her father were wise men and judged their marriage to be lawful. She asks that any decision be delayed until she can seek advice from friends in Spain. The king does not answer her, but Wolsey tells her that many learned men have come to plead her cause and that delay would be pointless and unsettling to her and the king. Campeius agrees that the proceedings should go ahead immediately. Then Katherine addresses Wolsey, telling him that she believes him to be her enemy and so she does not want him to be her judge. She says that he is responsible for stirring up trouble between her and the king. Wolsey says that her comments are out of character for her, as she is known for her gentleness and charity. He denies that he is her enemy and claims that he only acted under the authority of Rome. He also denies that he is responsible for the king's doubts about his marriage, and he hopes that the king will back him up in this. Katherine says she is a simple woman and unfitted to oppose Wolsey's cunning. She says that though Wolsey pretends to be humble, he is full of pride and has risen so far above his office  that many who used to be powerful now act as his servants. She tells him that he cares more about his own status than his spiritual calling. She repeats that she refuses to let him judge her, curtsies to the king, and tries to leave. The king orders that she be brought back into court, but she insists that she will never again appear in court to discuss this matter, and leaves. The king allows her to go, and reflects that no man had a better wife. He praises her nobility and obedience. Wolsey asks the king whether he had, as Katherine alleged, induced the king to doubt his marriage. The king excuses Wolsey from Katherine's accusations and goes on to explain how he came to doubt the legality of his marriage. The French ambassador, the Bishop of Bayonne, had come to negotiate a marriage between Mary, the daughter of King Henry and Katherine, and the Duke of Orleans. The ambassador had asked whether Mary were legitimate, given that Katherine had previously been married to Henry's brother . The question had awakened doubts in the king. He had reflected that Katherine had given birth to sons, but they had been born dead or died shortly afterwards. He felt that this was a judgment on him for contracting a marriage that was unlawful in God's eyes. He then thought about the danger to his kingdom if it were left without an heir. After a great struggle, his conscience had driven him to the solution of divorcing Katherine. The king had then consulted with the Bishop of Lincoln, whom he now asks to speak. The Bishop of Lincoln confirms that he advised the king to divorce Katherine. The king says he had asked the Archbishop of Canterbury for permission to decide the case in court, which the Archbishop had granted. The king insists that it is not out of dislike for Katherine that he has come to this, but out of conscience. If his marriage were proven lawful, he would be happy to remain married to her. Campeius says that the court must adjourn until Katherine can be persuaded to return. He also says that Katherine must not appeal to the Pope. The king suspects that the cardinals are just using delaying tactics. He looks forward to the return of Bishop Cranmer, his trusted advisor. The court breaks up.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Katherine is sewing with her ladies-in-waiting. She asks one of them to sing. The woman sings a song about the power of music to heal sorrow. A Gentleman enters and tells Katherine that the cardinals want to speak with her. As Katherine asks him to show them in, she worries about what they want with her. Wolsey and Campeius enter. Wolsey asks her if they can speak in a private room, but she says that her conscience is clear, so she is happy to speak here. Wolsey begins to speak to her in Latin, but she stops him, saying that it could make people think that there is something about her cause which must be hidden. She asks him to speak in English, for all to hear. Wolsey says that they have come not to accuse her, but to know her intentions in the matter of the divorce, and to give her advice and comfort. Campeius says that Wolsey, out of nobility of spirit, has forgiven Katherine for her false accusations against him, and has come to offer help. Katherine is not convinced, saying in an aside to the audience that they have come to betray her. She tells the cardinals that she needs more time to seek counsel before she can give an answer on such an important matter. She tells them she is "a woman friendless, hopeless" . Wolsey insists that she has both friends and hopes, but she points out that no Englishman would dare to help her, as to do so would be to oppose the king. Those friends she has, she says, are in Spain. Campeius and Wolsey advise her to place herself under the king's protection, since if the court's judgment goes against her, she risks being disgraced. Katherine tells them that they both wish her ruin, but that there is a higher judge that no king can corrupt - God. She says that she thought them holy men, but now sees that they are heartless and full of sin. She feels that they are enjoying seeing her misery, but warns them to be careful, lest her misfortune rebounds on them. She asks them why she should place her cause in the hands of the king, who hates her. He has banished her from his bed, and she lost his love long ago. She is old, she says, and her relationship with the king consists merely of her obedience. She has been a loving and constant wife, yet she is rewarded by being rejected. Nothing but death will separate her from her "dignities" - her royal title of queen and, presumably, her marriage to the king. Katherine wishes that she had never come to England. She worries about what will become of her and her ladies. Wolsey protests that he and Campeius mean well, and that she is wrong in her suspicions about them. He warns her that she may damage her cause with the king by her stubborn attitude. Campeius insists that the king loves her and that they only wish to do her service. Katherine tells them to do as they will, and sarcastically says that if she has misunderstood their intentions, it is because she is only a woman, lacking understanding. She says she still loves the king and prays for him.