prompt:
Chapter: Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior,
      Garter,
      Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of
      Suffolke, two
      Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening
      Guifts: Then
      foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of
      Norfolke,
      Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.
      Traine borne
      by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other
      Godmother, and
      Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter
      speakes.

      Gart. Heauen
      From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,
      Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
      Princesse of England Elizabeth.

      Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

      Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
      My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray
      All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady,
      Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy,
      May hourely fall vpon ye

      Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:
      What is her Name?
      Cran. Elizabeth

      Kin. Stand vp Lord,
      With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee,
      Into whose hand, I giue thy Life

      Cran. Amen

      Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall;
      I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,
      When she ha's so much English

      Cran. Let me speake Sir,
      For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter,
      Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth.
      This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her;
      Though in her Cradle; yet now promises
      Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings,
      Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be,
      (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse)
    A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
    And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer
    More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue
    Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces
    That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is,
    With all the Vertues that attend the good,
    Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her,
    Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her:
    She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;
    Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,
    And hang their heads with sorrow:
    Good growes with her.
    In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety,
    Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
    The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
    God shall be truely knowne, and those about her,
    From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
    And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood.
    Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when
    The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
    Her Ashes new create another Heyre,
    As great in admiration as her selfe.
    So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One,
    (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes)
    Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour
    Shall Star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
    And so stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror,
    That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant,
    Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine,
      His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,
      Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish,
      And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
      To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
      Shall see this, and blesse Heauen

      Kin. Thou speakest wonders

      Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England,
      An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her,
      And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
      Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye,
      She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin,
      A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe
      To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her

      Kin. O Lord Archbishop
      Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before
      This happy Child, did I get any thing.
      This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me,
      That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire

      To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker.
      I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
      And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
      I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence,
      And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords,
      Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye,
      She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
      'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay:
      This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.

      Exeunt.

      THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please
      All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,
      And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare
      W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,
      They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City
      Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
      Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare
      All the expected good w'are like to heare.
      For this Play at this time, is onely in
      The mercifull construction of good women,
      For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,
      And say twill doe; I know within a while,
      All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
      If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.

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

completion: In the palace yard, a group gathers for the baby's christening. A Porter is trying to stop people from shouting and make it a civilized bash. The Porter argues with various peeps trying to get in and see more. He's got to hold the gate so that no one can enter who's not supposed to be there. The people waiting to see the christening are the same lowlifes who shout at executions or go to the playhouse. When the Lord Chamberlain sees all this, he snaps at the Porter. This is a royal christening, and he's letting rascals shout? Get it together, man. The Porter worries that the king will blame him directly for all the commotion. Sound the trumpets, because the royal family is on their way back from the christening.


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: The figure of the Prologue comes on stage and explains that what follows is a serious play. The events to come will draw the audience's pity, bringing some to tears, but there will be much truth told, as well. Those hoping for a bawdy humorous play will be disappointed. The Prologue asks the audience to imagine that the noble characters of the play are alive, and he urges them to watch as their mightiness nevertheless brings them misery. The Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Abergavenny enter the scene. Buckingham greets Norfolk and asks him how he has been since they met in France. Buckingham was sick and confined to his tent while Norfolk was witness to grandiose displays by the king of France and the king of England at a field in France, where the two forces met to show off their respective glories. Norfolk relates the glamorous scene and how well it went off. Buckingham asks who had planned it, and Norfolk says it was all organized by Cardinal Wolsey. When he hears this, Buckingham rails against Wolsey's ambitious nature. Norfolk weakly defends him, but Abergavenny agrees that Wolsey displays undue pride. Buckingham insists that nobles paid for the trip to France, and Wolsey gave the least honor to those who spent the most. Abergavenny speaks of nobles forced to sell off their property to afford to keep up with the court. Norfolk agrees that the peace between England and France may be more costly than is reasonable. But he warns Buckingham that the Cardinal is a powerful man, prone to revenging himself on those who speak badly of him. Just then Wolsey enters the scene with his aides. Glaring at Buckingham, he asks if one of Buckingham's estate overseers has arrived to give testimony against Buckingham. His aides say the man has arrived, and Wolsey and his train depart. Buckingham declares that he thinks Wolsey is plotting against him. He thinks Wolsey is on his way to gossip to the king, so he determines to rush to the king's quarters first. Norfolk strongly urges Buckingham to calm down, to not let his anger become so enflamed that he injures his own case. Buckingham agrees to calm down but repeats that he thinks Wolsey is corrupt and treasonous. Buckingham goes through the charges he would make against Wolsey to the king: he is prone to mischief; he engineered the entire arrangement with France to benefit himself; he deals with Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, and king of Spain behind the king's back; and he buys and sells his honor to his own advantage. Norfolk is sorry to hear these charges and wonders if there could be mistake, but Buckingham insists there is no mistake. Brandon, the sergeant-at-arms, enters, and announces he has arrived to arrest Buckingham in the name of the king and to take him to the Tower. Buckingham says goodbye to Abergavenny, but Brandon intends to arrest Abergavenny, too, along with several of their comrades. Both swear to obey the decrees of the king and submit to arrest. Buckingham sees he is done for and bids farewell to Norfolk.


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: King Henry VIII enters, with Cardinal Wolsey and Sir Thomas Lovell. The king ascends to his throne, thanks Wolsey for stopping the plots against him, and asks that Buckingham's estate manager be called in to speak. Just then, Queen Katharine enters with Norfolk and the Duke of Suffolk. Katharine kneels before the king, intending to make a request. She says she has been asked to speak on behalf of the king's subjects, who are upset about the levying of new taxes. While the people complain mostly about Wolsey, the originator of the taxes, they speak, too, against the king, and she warns that rebellion threatens. The king says he has not heard about this tax, but the queen reminds him that whether he created it or not, he is held responsible for it. The king asks for more information, and the queen explains that the tax is said to help pay for campaigns in France, which angers the people. The king says this tax displeases him. Wolsey claims he only set it up because the judges told him to, but he urges the king not to make changes just to please those who would say negative things. Wolsey says that what we do best is often viewed in the public eye as our worst act, and our worst works come to look like our best. But the king thinks the tax is too much, so he undoes it and orders released any who have been imprisoned for resisting payment. Wolsey tells his secretary to release the order but quietly instructs him to let it be known that the tax was reduced through the encouragement of Wolsey himself. Buckingham's Surveyor, who ran Buckingham's estates, enters. Katharine says to the king that she thinks it is a pity that Buckingham is out of favor, and the king agrees, but he thinks that advantageous positions sometimes lead to corruption, even in the seemingly wonderful Buckingham. Wolsey orders the Surveyor to recount what he knows of Buckingham. The Surveyor says that he heard Buckingham say he intended to arrange for the crown to fall to him should the king die without a male heir. Apparently, a friar had led him to believe that he could be in line to the throne, and Buckingham shared this information with his friends. Katharine notes that Buckingham fired the Surveyor because of complaints from the tenants; thus, the Surveyor's commentary may be an effort to get revenge on Buckingham. But the king urges the Surveyor to continue. The Surveyor says Buckingham declared he would have Wolsey and Lovell killed if the king died and then gain the throne himself. Further, he quotes Buckingham speaking of the role his father played in Richard III's struggle for the throne. Where his father could have stabbed Richard III to death, but was restrained by loyalty, Buckingham intends to appear loyal yet kill the king. The king now believes Buckingham is a traitor who intends to assassinate him. The king calls for 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.

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: Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands discuss the oddity of the nobles' behavior since they returned from the trip to France. New continental fashions taken up by these returning men from the French seem ridiculous, and the two lords make fun of their dandyish clothes and manners. Lovell enters, relating proposed reformations urging the returned nobles to give up French-influenced styles. The three agree that such reformations are the right idea. Lovell says he is on his way to a great dinner celebration at Wolsey's house, to which the Lords Chamberlain and Sands are also invited. They agree that Wolsey is generous, and they set out on their way to his home. Guildford says a dedication at the beginning of the events at Wolsey's house, welcoming the guests. Lord Chamberlain, Lovell, and Sands arrive, and Sands is seated at a table next to Anne Bullen. Sands flirts with Anne, and Wolsey enters the party. Hearing cannon fire, Wolsey discovers that new guests have arrived. Lord Chamberlain discovers that the strangers are shepherds apparently arrived from France, who had heard talk of Wolsey's party and were so impressed with the tales that they had to attend. Wolsey invites them in. The shepherds are in fact King Henry VIII and some of his men in disguise. The shepherds dance with the ladies, Henry with Anne. He is very taken by her beauty. Wolsey tells the shepherds that if one of them has a higher position than himself, then he will surrender his place. Wolsey strolls among the shepherds and sees through the king's disguise, unmasking him. Henry then asks Lord Chamberlain about Anne. Telling her it is bad manners to dance with her without kissing her, he kisses her. Then, he goes to a private banquet room with his men, promising Anne that he won't forget her.


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: In the streets of London, a first gentleman meets a second gentleman. One asks the other where he is rushing; the second is on his way to the trial of the Duke of Buckingham. But the first gentleman has seen it, and the trial is already over. Buckingham has been found guilty and sentenced to death. The first gentleman tells how Buckingham pleaded not guilty to the charges against him and spoke eloquently in his own defense, but the court pronounced him guilty all the same. The gentlemen agree that Cardinal Wolsey is behind the fall of Buckingham and has been busy sending any Lords favored by the king to distant parts or to jail. Apparently, "All the commons/ Hate  perniciously and, o' my conscience, /Wish him ten fathom deep" . Buckingham enters, guarded by soldiers and accompanied by Lovell, Sands, Vaux, and a crowd of commoners. The two gentlemen stand aside to hear what he says. Buckingham addresses the people, saying he has been condemned by a traitor's judgment, but he bears the law no ill will. He forgives those who have done him wrong and asks those who have loved him to weep for his death, then forget him. Lovell asks Buckingham to forgive him, which he does. Vaux must accompany Buckingham to the river, where a barge awaits to take him to his end. He offers to have the barge fit for a duke, but Buckingham stops him. Buckingham came to the court with a high position and now leaves it as a poor man stripped of titles, but he has seen the truth. Buckingham speaks of his father, who was loyal to Richard III and then killed by that same king. King Henry VIII's father, who came to the throne after deposing Richard III, pitied Buckingham and restored his title and nobility, but now that king's son has taken it all back. Buckingham repeats the fall of his father, both brought down by men they served and to whom they were loyal--though at least Buckingham the younger had a trial. Buckingham counsels the audience to be careful with their loyalty and love: "those you make friends/ And give your hearts to, when they perceive/ The least rub in your fortunes, fall away/ Like water from ye, never found again/ But where they mean to sink ye" . Then, he is led away. The gentlemen agree that the turn of events for Buckingham is very sad. But they have heard talk of another person tumbling from the king's grace, brought about by more pernicious scheming. They have heard that the king wishes to separate from Queen Katharine. They suspect Wolsey has urged the king to this path, perhaps wanting the king to marry someone else. Cardinal Campeius has arrived from Rome to discuss the matter, proving the rumor true. The gentlemen speculate that Wolsey has engineering this in order to get back at Katharine's father, the Holy Roman Emperor and king of Spain, for having not given him a post in the past.


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: Lord Chamberlain enters, reading a letter from one of his employees that tells how Cardinal Wolsey's men seized several of Lord Chamberlain's horses, claiming that they must be given to the king. Lord Chamberlain says he thinks Wolsey will end up taking everything from all the nobles. Norfolk and Suffolk enter, asking after the king. Lord Chamberlain notes that the king is brooding about his marriage to Katharine, perhaps worrying that it was an illegal marriage. Suffolk suggests it is more likely that Henry is thinking about another lady. Norfolk says Wolsey planted the idea that the king's marriage could be annulled. Norfolk is astonished that Wolsey has, thus, managed to engineer a break with the king of Spain and convinced Henry to cast off his loyal wife of 20 years. Lord Chamberlain agrees with these words but hopes that one day the king's eyes may be opened to the machinations of Wolsey. Lord Chamberlain exits, and Suffolk and Norfolk go to speak to the king. The king is not pleased to see them and ignores them as soon as Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius enter. The king dismisses Suffolk and Norfolk, who mutter on the way out that they do not trust Campeius, this envoy from the Pope. Wolsey says that no one could be angry with the king for leaving Katharine because the Pope has been asked to arbitrate the king's decision. The Pope's envoy, Campeius, embraces the king and gives him papers elaborating his judgment of the situation. The king sends for his new secretary, Gardiner, to plan for a reading of the decision. Gardiner was formerly Wolsey's secretary, which Wolsey reminds him as he enters, and Gardiner whispers back that his first loyalties are still to Wolsey. The king and Gardiner go off to talk, and the two cardinals discuss the downfall of the previous secretary. The king announces that they will go to Blackfriars to make the announcement about his decision to leave Katharine. He is grieved to leave such a good wife, but he says his conscience demands it, and he must.


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: Anne Bullen and her attendant,  Old Lady, discuss the downfall of Queen Katharine outside the queen's quarters. Anne is saddened that Katharine lived for so long without reproach and knew of no plots against her, yet is nonetheless about to fall from grace. Anne thinks Katharine's demise will be all the more bitter because Katharine has known such heights, and she suggests it may be better to have been born poor yet be happy than to be rich and miserable. Feeling so sorry for Katharine, Anne declares that she herself would never want to be a queen. The Old Lady assures her that she would, since Anne has a woman's heart and, therefore, necessarily desires wealth, eminence, and sovereignty. The Old Lady says she would consent to be a queen for mere pocket change, while Anne insists that nothing could convince her. The Lord Chamberlain enters, with a message from the king, who has such a high opinion of Anne that he wants to honor her with a new title and an increased annual income. Anne says the only thing she can give in return is thanks, and she prays for the well being of the king. On his way out, Lord Chamberlain notes to himself that Anne has such a wonderful mix of beauty and honor that she can't help but have attracted the king's eye, and he suspects that "from this lady may proceed a gem/ To lighten all this isle" . The Old Lady exclaims that she has been working at the court for 16 years and has had no improvement in her situation, where Anne has received these blessings almost without trying. Anne's new title, given merely as a sign of respect and without requiring any obligation, promises more future gifts, in the Old Lady's opinion. Anne quiets the Old Lady and worries what will happen next. But she asks the Old Lady not to mention her new title to Katharine before returning to comfort the queen.


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: Many official types enter a hall at Blackfriars, including bishops, dukes, scribes, then Cardinal Wolsey, Cardinal Campeius, and the king and queen. Wolsey calls for silence while the report from Rome is read, but Henry says it has already been read; there is no need to read it again. Queen Katharine kneels at Henry's feet and speaks: She asks him to have pity on her, now that she is a stranger in a foreign kingdom. She asks how she has offended Henry, what she has done to make him want to cast her off. She says she has been a true and loyal wife, always obeying him in every matter for 20 years, and had many children with him. She says she is willing to have God punish her if she has ever done anything against Henry, but she has not. She reminds him that Henry's father and her father, the king of Spain, were wise men, who conferred and agreed that their marriage was lawful. She begs the king to allow her time to receive counsel from Spain before submitting to a trial. Wolsey declares that many learned men are on hand, yet they cannot sway the king from his course, so there is no point in delaying proceedings. Campeius agrees that they should proceed. The queen then addresses Wolsey and says she believes he is her enemy, but she will not allow him to be her judge. She believes that he has caused this divorce, and she repeats that she will not let him judge her. Wolsey says that she sounds unlike herself, and she does him wrong. He claims to have nothing against her and that the case against her has been discussed by many others besides himself. He denies having stirred up trouble in the marriage, and he notes that he is speaking before the king, who he hopes will defend him against Katharine's assault. Katharine says that she is unable to defend herself against Wolsey's cunning. She accuses him of being arrogant and proud and of having gone above the power of his office to influence the king. She repeats that she will not be judged by him, and she tries to depart. Campeius and the king call her back, but she insists that she will not make an appearance during the rest of the proceeding and leaves. Henry lets her go, saying that no man has had a better wife than her. He speaks further of her noble and obedient nature. Wolsey asks the king to declare whether he has influenced him unduly with regards to Katharine, and the king consents to clear Wolsey's name, excusing him from Katharine's accusations. The king then relates how he came to doubt his marriage to Katharine. He tells how an ambassador from France came to negotiate for the hand of the king's daughter and asked if she were legitimate, which set the king thinking. He thought he must not be doing right in the eyes of heaven, since every child born to Katharine was either born dead or died soon thereafter or was a girl. Believing this was a sign that Katharine was unfit to be queen, he started the divorce process, despite his feelings for her. The king says he first spoke to some of his nobles about his plans, later asking the opinion of all his men. Therefore, it was not out of dislike for the queen that he chose to divorce her but out of a universal belief that the marriage had been unlawful. Campeius says they must adjourn until another day when the queen is present to complete the divorce. Henry notes to himself that he does not like the tricks of these cardinals, and he has no respect for Rome. He looks forward to the return of Cranmer, his trustworthy religious advisor.


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: The queen is in her apartment when the arrival of Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius is announced. The cardinals request that they speak in a private room, but the queen's conscience is clear, so she is content to converse in a public room. Wolsey says he has not come to accuse her but to learn her thoughts on the dissolution of her marriage and to offer advice. Katharine does not believe that they are on an honorable errand, but she nevertheless voices thanks for their efforts. Katharine declares that she is a woman alone, without friends or hope. Wolsey insists that she does have friends in England, but she disagrees. Campeius advises Katharine to put her hope in the king and to believe that he will yet protect her when they are divorced. Katharine accuses them of being corrupt, and she reminds them that there is still a higher force to judge them, God. Katharine tells the cardinals that she thought they were holy men, and she is shocked to see their apparent pleasure in making her life wretched. She cannot believe they would advise her to put her future in the hands of one who has already rejected her. The cardinals tell her she is mistaken. But the queen speaks of how obedient and honorable a wife she had been, yet rewarded only with dishonorable divorce. Thus, she says, even being a constant woman and a good wife cannot save a marriage. Katharine says only death will take the title of queen from her. She wishes she had never come to England, a world of flattery and untruth. Wolsey breaks in to insist that their ends are honorable, that they want to cure her sorrow, and she misunderstands them in thinking evil of them. As peacemakers, they suggest that she not aggravate the break with the king, but try to stay in his good favor. Campeius assures her that the king loves her, and he promises they will try to help her. But Katharine tells them to do whatever they want, declaring sarcastically that if she has misunderstood their intentions, it is because she is a woman, lacking understanding.