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.

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

