Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow.
115
Enter GARDINER.
WOLSEY [aside to Gardiner]
Give me your hand. Much joy and favour to you;
You are the King’s now.
GARDINER [aside to Wolsey] But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.
KING Come hither, Gardiner.
[The King walks and whispers with Gardiner.]
CAMPEIUS My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
120
In this man’s place before him?
WOLSEY Yes, he was.
CAMPEIUS Was he not held a learned man?
WOLSEY Yes, surely.
CAMPEIUS
Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread, then,
Even of yourself, lord Cardinal.
WOLSEY How? Of me?
CAMPEIUS They will not stick to say you envied him,
125
And fearing he would rise – he was so virtuous –
Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved him
That he ran mad and died.
WOLSEY Heaven’s peace be with him:
That’s Christian care enough. For living murmurers
There’s places of rebuke. He was a fool,
130
For he would needs be virtuous.
[Gestures towards Gardiner.] That good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment.
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother:
We live not to be griped by meaner persons.
KING Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.
135
Exit Gardiner.
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars:
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
My Wolsey, see it furnished. O my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
140
So sweet a bedfellow? But conscience, conscience –
O, ’tis a tender place, and I must leave her. Exeunt.
2.3 Enter ANNE Bullen and an Old Lady.
ANNE
Not for that neither. Here’s the pang that pinches:
His highness having lived so long with her and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her – by my life,
She never knew harm-doing – O, now, after
5
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp the which
To leave a thousandfold more bitter than
’Tis sweet at first t’acquire – after this process,
To give her the avaunt, it is a pity
10
Would move a monster.
OLD LADY Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
ANNE O, God’s will! Much better
She ne’er had known pomp: though’t be temporal,
Yet if that quarrel and Fortune do divorce
It from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance panging
15
As soul and body’s severing.
OLD LADY Alas, poor lady,
She’s a stranger now again.
ANNE So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born
And range with humble livers in content
20
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief
And wear a golden sorrow.
OLD LADY Our content
Is our best having.
ANNE By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
OLD LADY Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for’t; and so would you,
25
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have, too, a woman’s heart which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts –
30
Saving your mincing – the capacity
Of your soft cheverel conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.
ANNE Nay, good troth.
OLD LADY
Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen?
ANNE No, not for all the riches under heaven.
35
OLD LADY
’Tis strange: a threepence bowed would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it. But I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs
To bear that load of title?
ANNE No, in truth.
OLD LADY
Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little:
40
I would not be a young count in your way
For more than blushing comes to. If your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, ’tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.
ANNE How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
45
For all the world.
OLD LADY In faith, for little England
You’d venture an emballing. I myself
Would for Caernarfonshire, although there longed
No more to th’ crown but that. Lo, who comes here?
Enter Lord CHAMBERLAIN.
CHAMBERLAIN
Good morrow, ladies. What were’t worth to know
50
The secret of your conference?
ANNE My good lord,
Not your demand: it values not your asking.
Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying.
CHAMBERLAIN It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women. There is hope
55
All will be well.
ANNE Now I pray God, amen.
CHAMBERLAIN
You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note’s
Ta’en of your many virtues, the King’s majesty
60
Commends his good opinion of you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke, to which title
A thousand pound a year annual support
Out of his grace he adds.
ANNE I do not know
65
What kind of my obedience I should tender.
More than my all is nothing; nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
70
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness,
Whose health and royalty I pray for.
CHAMBERLAIN Lady,
I shall not fail t’approve the fair conceit
The King hath of you. [aside] I have perused her well.
75
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
That they have caught the King, and who knows yet
But from this lady may proceed a gem
To lighten all this isle. [to Anne] I’ll to the King
And say I spoke with you.
ANNE My honoured lord.
80
Exit Lord Chamberlain.
OLD LADY Why, this it is: see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court –
Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late
For any suit of pounds – and you (O, fate!),
85
; A very fresh fish here – fie, fie, fie upon
This compelled fortune! – have your mouth filled up
Before you open it.
ANNE This is strange to me.
OLD LADY How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no.
There was a lady once – ’tis an old story –
90
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt. Have you heard it?
ANNE Come, you are pleasant.
OLD LADY With your theme I could
O’ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke?
A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect?
95
No other obligation? By my life,
That promises more thousands: honour’s train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know your back will bear a duchess. Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
ANNE Good lady,
100
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy
And leave me out on’t. Would I had no being
If this salute my blood a jot. It faints me
To think what follows.
The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
105
In our long absence. Pray do not deliver
What here you’ve heard to her.
OLD LADY What do you think me?
Exeunt.
2.4 Trumpets, sennet and cornetts. Enter two vergers with short silver wands; next them two Scribes in the habit of doctors; after them, the Archbishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of LINCOLN, Ely, Rochester and St Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a gentleman, bearing the purse with the great seal and a cardinal’s hat; then two priests, bearing each a silver cross; then a gentleman usher, bare-headed, accompanied with a sergeant-at-arms, bearing a silver mace; then two gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two Cardinal s; two noblemen with the sword and mace. The KING takes place under the cloth of state. The two Cardinals sit under him as judges. Queen KATHERINE, attended by GRIFFITH, takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court in manner of a consistory; below them the scribes and a Crier. The lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.
WOLSEY Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.
KING What’s the need?
It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides th’authority allowed;
You may then spare that time.
WOLSEY Be’t so. Proceed.
5
SCRIBE
Say, ‘Henry, King of England, come into the court.’
CRIER Henry, King of England, come into the court.
KING Here.
SCRIBE
Say, ‘Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.’
CRIER
Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.
10
[The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes
about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his
feet; then speaks.]
KATHERINE Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,
And to bestow your pity on me, for
I am a most poor woman and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions, having here
No judge indifferent nor no more assurance
15
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? What cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure
That thus you should proceed to put me off
And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness
20
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable,
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry
As I saw it inclined. When was the hour
25
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine
That had to him derived your anger did I
30
Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife in this obedience
Upward of twenty years, and have been blessed
With many children by you. If, in the course
35
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 251