prompt:
Chapter: 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.

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

completion: Someone steps out on the stage and delivers a speech. Who is this mysterious figure? The truth is: we're not sure. Some scholars call him the "Chorus," while others stick with the super original name "Prologue" . Whatever his name, he comes out on stage and gives us in the audience the 411 on what they're about to see. The Prologue mentions a couple of important themes in the play like pity and truth. He also sets the genre straight for us: it's not a comedy we're about to see, so there'll be no crude jokes or slapstick anywhere to be found. If you're looking for laughter, this isn't the play for you; it's full of serious stuff. So what can we expect? Well, this play is part serious, part thriller, and all politics. And one last thing, the Prologue tells us: make sure to think of the characters as humans. Yes, yes, we know they're actors playing parts, but let's pretend that they're alive and real. That will make the whole play way more interesting. Agreed? Agreed.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

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

completion: Norfolk, Buckingham, and Abergavenny all greet one another. Buckingham asks Norfolk how he's been since they last saw each other in France. Last time they hung out, Buckingham had a fever and had to stay in his tent while everyone else was partying. The king of England and the king of France put on a show for everyone. It was a-freakin'-mazing. Naturally, Buckingham wants to know the party planner's name. It sounds so cool. Norfolk tells him it was Cardinal Wolsey who planned the whole thing. He did what? Buckingham goes off the handle at this news. He thinks Wolsey is "ambitious" and a "devil," and he wants nothing to do with the guy. Norfolk doesn't agree. He defends Wolsey and thinks the dude was just planning a fun time. But Abergavenny takes Buckingham's side: Wolsey is way too extravagant with money, he says. In fact, his lavish ways have cost a lot of nobles... literally. People have to sell their homes to keep up with Wolsey. It's not fair. Why is Wolsey so hell-bent on burning through the dough? He wants to make sure England stays on par with France, so he's spending money left and right to keep up appearances--and, more importantly, to keep the peace with them. If France thinks they have more money and resources than England, then who knows what could happen? After listening to his two pals, Norfolk agrees that peace with France is coming at a pretty penny... but he also warns them not to go against the Cardinal: he's dangerous and malicious. Don't say they weren't warned. Just then, Wolsey enters and gets right to business. He wants to know if Buckingham's land surveyor is ready to witness against Buckingham. With that, Wolsey leaves as quickly as he arrived. This doesn't sit too well with Buckingham: he thinks Wolsey is up to something. He does have the king's ear, so he's probably off talking smack about Buckingham to the king. Norfolk tells Buckingham to cool it. He doesn't want to act out of anger. When Buckingham calms down, he still thinks Wolsey is bad news. He then goes through a laundry list of Wolsey's mistakes: he's just out to help himself; he deals with Charles V behind the king's back; he's clumsy and unfair; oh, and did Buckingham mention that Wolsey sells honor to the highest bidder? Norfolk thinks there must be some mistake. How could Wolsey do all those things? Still, Buckingham insists that that's what's going down. Before the men can talk any further, Brandon enters with orders to arrest Buckingham. The change? High treason. Buckingham knows it's a waste of his breath to plead innocent and promises to follow God's will instead. Buckingham says goodbye to Abergavenny, but Brandon arrests Abergavenny, too. And he's only getting started--he's got a list of names to get through by lunch. Buckingham tells Norfolk that this is Wolsey's doing and bids him farewell. He's already his own shadow.


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: King Henry, Wolsey, and Sir Thomas Lovell enter. Henry thanks Wolsey for doing such a good job catching the bad guys, and he asks to speak to Buckingham's estate manager to get the inside scoop about what's happening with his land. Just then, Queen Katherine enters, kneels, and then decides to stay kneeling in order to ask the king a favor. She's here for the people: they're aren't thrilled about the new taxes, and they don't like that Wolsey started the taxes in the first place. Katherine doesn't want these squabbles to turn into something much bigger--like a rebellion. All of this is news to Henry's ears; he didn't even know there was a new tax. . Well, that's not really an excuse, Katherine says. She tells the king that he's in charge, so he should still know about the tax in his own country. Anyway, the tax is for the campaign in France. Henry doesn't like the new tax. Wolsey quickly jumps in and passes the blame. Sure, he issued the tax, but the judges made him do it. Plus, he says, we can't just go around changing what we do whenever somebody has a problem with it. Still, Henry thinks the tax is way too high. He gets rid of the tax and orders that everyone who was locked up for not paying it should be let out of prison. Wolsey gives in and orders the secretary to get rid of the tax. But--he whispers--the secretary should make sure to let everyone know that it was Wolsey who got rid of the tax. This dude is so up to something. Then Katherine brings up Buckingham: it's a shame he's on the outs, she says. Henry agrees. Buckingham's a good guy, he says, so it's surprising that he could commit treason. Wolsey asks the Surveyor to give them the deets on Buckingham. The Surveyor says that every day Buckingham would deliver a little speech about wanting to be king if Henry died. Wolsey quickly points out how dangerous Buckingham is. Katherine isn't convinced: didn't Buckingham fire this guy because too many people complained about him? This whole testimony is a sham; it's just payback. Henry lets the Surveyor continue. The Surveyor goes on to give more incriminating evidence against Buckingham, like how Buckingham plans to kill Wolsey and Lovell if Henry dies. Oh, and did the Surveyor mention the help Buckingham's dad gave Richard III when he was killing his way to the throne? Buckingham plans to stab Henry in the back. That's enough to convince Henry: yep, Buckingham's a traitor all right. King Henry calls a trial.


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.

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

completion: Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands talk about--what else?--what happened on the nobles' trip to France, and about what's taken place since. Chamberlain thinks it's ridiculous how men are suddenly wearing French clothes and practicing French customs, now that they've seen how the French do things. Then Lovell comes over to say that the nobles are supposed to give these French things up. Everyone agrees that this is best. After a few more jabs at the French, Chamberlain asks Lovell where he's off to. Lovell's off to Wolsey's house, of course, and Chamberlain and Lovell are invited, too. Lovell says Wolsey is "bounteous," and Chamberlain follows that up by saying that he's "noble," too. Sands couldn't agree more. Wolsey is such a great "example" to all of them. The men sing Wolsey's praises as they run off to his house for dinner.


prompt:
Chapter: 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: Over in the dinner hall at Wolsey's pad, Guildford welcomes everyone. Lord Chamberlain, Sands, and Lovell are late, but Sands makes up for it by complimenting the gathering. Chamberlain tells Sands to sit between Anne Bullen and another lady. You don't need to tell him twice: in fact, he's so happy to be sitting next to Anne that he flirts with her and even kisses her. Wolsey enters and greets everyone. There's lots of brownnosing with Wolsey and lots more flirting between Anne and Sands. Chamberlain notices a group of party crashers. He's never seen them before and asks the servant who they are. Wolsey instructs Chamberlain to greet them since he can speak French . Shhh... one of them is Henry, but he and his buddies are dressed as shepherds so no one will recognize them. Chamberlain comes back with a report on the mystery guests. They've heard about how awesome Wolsey's parties are, they say, and they just had to see for themselves. Wolsey takes that as a compliment and invites them in. Everyone dances. Henry chooses Anne as a dance partner because, well, she's hot. Wolsey hears the king say this and figures out that he's not really a shepherd. Wolsey tells Chamberlain to ask the shepherd if there is one among them that is of higher status; if so, Wolsey will give up his home to the lad. The response: there is--in fact--a man of high class there. Now Wolsey has to choose which person it is. Wolsey picks Henry. Henry takes off his mask, and everyone has a laugh. Then Henry asks about that chick he just danced with. Who was that? Chamberlain tells Henry it was Anne, Thomas Bullen's daughter, and Henry is pleased. He thinks he should have kissed her when they were dancing, so he does so right then and there. A banquet is ready in a secret room, and Henry gets up to go--but not before promising to never forget Anne. We're pretty sure this won't be the last time we see Anne.


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 guys meet on a street, rushing. Why so fast? Guy #2 is on his way to Buckingham's trial, but Guy #1 has just come from there and says it's finished already. Well, that was fast. What happened? Guy # 1 explains the trial: Buckingham pled not guilty, but he was found guilty and sentenced to death. It didn't matter that he was eloquent or that he stood up for himself rationally; he was found guilty, anyway. The gents agree that Wolsey is behind all this. This isn't the first time it's happened, either: Wolsey also kicked Earl Surrey, the Deputy of Ireland, and Kildare out of their positions... and the list goes on. Wait a minute, says Guy # 1: it seems like Wolsey gets rid of anyone the king likes. Maybe Guy #1 on to something... As the men are talking, Buckingham enters with Lovell, Vaux, Sands, and a bunch of commoners. Buckingham delivers a heartfelt speech about how he's been wrongly accused. But he's not calling for revenge; instead, he forgives the men who did this to him. Now he's off to heaven. There's not a dry eye in the house. Lovell asks for forgiveness, and Buckingham grants it--in fact, he forgives everyone. Vaux orders for a barge to be prepared to take them away. Oh, and it should be made nice enough for a duke, since Buckingham is a duke and all. Buckingham jumps in and stops Vaux: he might have come in as a duke, but he leaves as plain old Edward Bohun. He thinks back to his father's role in English history, and he thinks about the past few kings who ruled. Buckingham recognizes that he's repeated history in some ways: his dad thought his buddies were loyal to him, but they killed him. Now something similar is happening to Buckingham himself. At least he got a trial? Too bad it wasn't much of a trial. Buckingham warns everyone to be careful whom you trust, since not everyone is loyal. Then Buckingham's off. The gents think this is sad: a guiltless man taken away to execution is neither fair nor just. The gents pray that the angels keep them from wicked men who play in evil trickery and deceitful trials. Then Guy #2 asks Guys #1 if he's heard the latest rumor around the water cooler: Henry is splitting up with Katherine. The gents agree that this must all be Wolsey's doing. Katherine doesn't obey Wolsey blindly, and she's suspicious of him. On top of that, Katherine's dad didn't hire Wolsey for a job that one time. No wonder Wolsey's orchestrated the break-up. This isn't an ordinary rumor, though: Cardinal Campeius from Rome has arrived to talk to Henry about it. Married people can't just go and break up , so this is a really big deal. The gents think this means the rumor is true. Then the gents look around. They're out in the open, and they've been talking about a private matter. They don't want to get in trouble, so they hightail it right out of there.


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: Mail call: Lord Chamberlain reads a letter about his horses. It turns out Wolsey took a bunch of them, claiming they were for the king. Chamberlain might have wanted them and all, but he doesn't have them anymore. Lord Chamberlain thinks about this. He decides that Wolsey will end up taking everything he has and then some. He's also sure that Wolsey will take and take from the nobles until nothing is left. As Chamberlain is deep in thought, Suffolk and Norfolk come in and begin gossiping about the king. Norfolk has heard that Henry is worried that his marriage to Katherine hasn't been up to scratch; it seems that there's something questionable about its legality. If their marriage were illegal, then Henry would have to divorce Katherine--you know, to placate his conscience. Right. Suffolk thinks it's more likely that Henry just has a new honey and is trying to make an excuse to be with her. Yep, it was Wolsey's idea, Norfolk reports. Wolsey suggested to Henry that his first marriage should be annulled. Never mind that this would mean war with Spain, and never mind that Katherine has been a supportive and loving wife for twenty years: Katherine was previously married to Henry VII , so that might make the marriage illegal. Well, how convenient. Lord Chamberlain is shocked. He doesn't want to have anything to do with such a man, and he hopes Henry can see the real Wolsey soon, before it's too late. Chamberlain leaves, and Norfolk and Suffolk pay a little visit to Henry. He's reading, and he isn't happy that they've interrupted him in the middle of his private meditations. When Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius enter, Henry tells Suffolk and Norfolk to beat it. They do, but they whisper to each other as they're leaving that they don't trust Wolsey--or Campeius, either. Alone with Henry and Campeius, Wolsey makes a speech about how no one will get mad at Henry for leaving Katherine if the Pope says it's okay. Campeius seconds that. He's brought with him some papers declaring his judgment on the marriage. Henry orders for these papers to be read later on. The king's secretary, Gardiner, used to be Wolsey's secretary. If you're thinking this is no coincidence, then you're right: Wolsey arranged for his man to be on the inside track with the king. As Gardiner exits, Wolsey reminds the secretary how much he's helped him. Hint, hint. Gardiner picks up on Wolsey's not-so-subtle hint and confirms his loyalty to the cardinal over the king. Then Henry and Gardiner leave to have a chat. Meanwhile, Campeius and Wolsey discuss current events. Campeius reports that people all around town seem to have a bad vibe about Wolsey. Wolsey is surprised by this, but Campeius confirms that people think he had a hand in Buckingham's execution. Gasp. Wolsey pretends to be offended by all this--even though he totally did have something to do with it. Henry reenters with news that he will announce his split from Katherine at Blackfriars. He orders Gardiner to deliver a letter to Katherine. He's really down about leaving "so sweet a bedfellow" , but his conscience tells him he has to. We're pretty sure by conscience, he means Wolsey.


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 and an Old Lady dish about the king leaving his wife. Anne thinks the whole thing is really sad; she points out that Katherine has lived a good life and has always been above reproach, but it doesn't matter now: she's on the losing end of this one. Anne even goes as far to say that it's better to be poor than to be born rich and then become poor. At least if it's all you've ever known, you can't mourn for what you've lost. Following this train of thought, Anne declares: "I would not be a queen." Um, okay. The Old Lady calls Anne's bluff: it would be awesome to be queen, she says. Think about all the power and money you could have. But Anne sticks to her story: she'll never be royal, she says. It's just not in her blood. She wouldn't become queen for all the money in the world. There's some more ribbing as Anne and the Old Lady playfully argue about what it would be like to be queen. The Old Lady throws in a few jokes about oral sex and having sex and fornication with the king. Just then, Lord Chamberlain enters, asking to speak with Anne privately. He tells her the king wants to give her a swanky title--Marchioness of Pembroke--and some bling. Anne is blown away and says thanks. As Chamberlain is leaving, he calls Anne a "gem" because she's so pretty and honorable. The Old Lady points out that if Anne gets this new title and cash without even trying, then there could be all kinds of gifts in the future. The Old Lady herself been around the block more than once, and she never received this kind of thing. Anne takes it all in stride. She asks the Old Lady not to mention any of this to Katherine: the poor queen is grieving, and it wouldn't be nice to rub this in her face.


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: Over at Blackfriars, it's a formal affair with a bunch of pomp and circumstance. Everyone's gathered to hear the report from the Pope's rep read. Wolsey shuts everyone up so they can hear it. Henry doesn't think that's necessary, since the report has already been read, but Wolsey wants to carry on anyway. Katherine comes into the court and kneels at Henry's feet. Then she delivers a long speech about her position. Here are the highlights: 1) She's a foreigner in England, so she should be treated kindly; 2) She's been faithfully married to Henry for twenty years and has always tried to be a good wife; 3) Her dad and Henry's dad were buddies and decided their marriage was a great idea, so it must not be illegal. Wolsey won't have any of it: there are bunch of brainiacs here who have already tried to convince Henry to change his mind, so why should she try? That's just a waste of everyone's time. Unsurprisingly, Campeius agrees. So Katherine talks to Wolsey directly. She claims he's the real reason for Henry's beef with her, and she doesn't think it's fair that he's the one controlling her trial. He shouldn't have a say. "You got a problem with me?" asks Wolsey. He plays innocent and tells everyone he's never said anything bad about Katherine and doesn't know what her problem is. This isn't like her--is she sure she's okay? Katherine can see right through Wolsey's antics, but she's also worried about her own skill. She says she can't properly defend herself against him because he's very clever and twists things around. When Katherine tries to leave, Campeius and Henry call her back in. Katherine doesn't budge: she's not going to take this, so she won't come to any more of this sham. She leaves. Henry doesn't bother chasing after her. Instead, he compliments her, telling everyone that she is a great wife who is noble and obedient. Um, isn't the purpose of this whole thing to break up the marriage? Always thinking of himself, Wolsey asks Henry to clear his name. The queen just said that Wolsey was behind this whole thing; that's not true, and it gives Wolsey a bad rap. Henry agrees. Now it's time for a long speech from Henry. He tells everyone about his marriage and why he thinks it might be illegal. The short version: Katherine first married his bro and then got hitched to Henry after his bro died. Plus, Katherine only gave birth to girls or had miscarriages, and that's a bad sign. Once Henry thought about it, he figured it must be Heaven punishing him for getting into an illegal marriage. Yeah, that makes sense. Henry got some confirmation from his nobles, too. It's not that Henry doesn't like Katherine; it's that he worries he's not doing the right thing by being with her. Campeius declares that they have to wait until Katherine is present to make the divorce final, so they plan to get back together when she's ready. Everyone agrees, but Henry secretly tells the audience that he doesn't really trust the Roman cardinals--they play around with him, and he's not sure why. He just hopes that Cranmer, his trusty right-hand man, gets back soon so he doesn't have to deal with these clowns anymore.