The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

And all that love his follies.

  SURREY

  By my soul,

  Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel

  My sword i’th’ life-blood of thee else. My lords,

  Can ye endure to hear this arrogance,

  And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,

  To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,

  Farewell nobility. Let his grace go forward

  And dare us with his cap, like larks.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  All goodness

  Is poison to thy stomach.

  SURREY

  Yes, that goodness

  Of gleaning all the land’s wealth into one,

  Into your own hands, Card’nal, by extortion;

  The goodness of your intercepted packets

  You writ to th’ Pope against the King; your

  goodness—

  Since you provoke me—shall be most notorious.

  My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,

  As you respect the common good, the state

  Of our despised nobility, our issues—

  Whom if he live will scarce be gentlemen—

  Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles

  Collected from his life. (To Wolsey) I’ll startle you

  Worse than the sacring-bell when the brown wench

  Lay kissing in your arms, lord Cardinal.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY ⌈aside⌉

  How much, methinks, I could despise this man,

  But that I am bound in charity against it.

  NORFOLK (to Surrey)

  Those articles, my lord, are in the King’s hand;

  But thus much—they are foul ones.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  So much fairer

  And spotless shall mine innocence arise

  When the King knows my truth.

  SURREY

  This cannot save you.

  I thank my memory I yet remember

  Some of these articles, and out they shall.

  Now, if you can blush and cry ‘Guilty’, Cardinal,

  You’ll show a little honesty.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Speak on, sir;

  I dare your worst objections. If I blush,

  It is to see a nobleman want manners.

  SURREY

  I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!

  First, that without the King’s assent or knowledge

  You wrought to be a legate, by which power

  You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops.

  NORFOLK (to Wolsey)

  Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else

  To foreign princes, ‘Ego et Rex meus’

  Was still inscribed—in which you brought the King

  To be your servant.

  SUFFOLK (to Wolsey) Then, that without the knowledge

  Either of King or Council, when you went

  Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold

  To carry into Flanders the great seal.

  SURREY (to Wolsey)

  Item, you sent a large commission

  To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,

  Without the King’s will or the state’s allowance,

  A league between his highness and Ferrara,

  SUFFOLK (to Wolsey)

  That out of mere ambition you have caused

  Your holy hat to be stamped on the King’s coin.

  SURREY (to Wolsey)

  Then, that you have sent innumerable substance—

  By what means got, I leave to your own conscience—

  To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways

  You have for dignities to the mere undoing

  Of all the kingdom. Many more there are,

  Which since they are of you, and odious,

  I will not taint my mouth with.

  LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  O, my lord,

  Press not a falling man too far. ’Tis virtue.

  His faults lie open to the laws. Let them,

  Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him

  So little of his great self.

  SURREY

  I forgive him.

  SUFFOLK

  Lord Cardinal, the King’s further pleasure is—

  Because all those things you have done of late,

  By your power legantine within this kingdom,

  Fall into th’ compass of a praemunire—

  That therefore such a writ be sued against you,

  To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,

  Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be

  Out of the King’s protection. This is my charge.

  NORFOLK (to Wolsey)

  And so we’ll leave you to your meditations

  How to live better. For your stubborn answer

  About the giving back the great seal to us,

  The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you.

  So fare you well, my little good lord Cardinal.

  Exeunt all but Wolsey

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  So farewell—to the little good you bear me.

  Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!

  This is the state of man. Today he puts forth

  The tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms,

  And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;

  The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,

  And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely

  His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,

  And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

  Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

  This many summers in a sea of glory,

  But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride

  At length broke under me, and now has left me

  Weary, and old with service, to the mercy

  Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.

  Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!

  I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched

  Is that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours!

  There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,

  That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

  More pangs and fears than wars or women have,

  And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

  Never to hope again.

  Enter Cromwell, who then stands amazed

  Why, how now, Cromwell?

  CROMWELL

  I have no power to speak, sir.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY What, amazed

  At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder

  A great man should decline?

  ⌈Cromwell begins to weep⌉

  Nay, an you weep

  I am fall’n indeed.

  CROMWELL

  How does your grace?

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Why, well—

  Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.

  I know myself now, and I feel within me

  A peace above all earthly dignities,

  A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me.

  I humbly thank his grace, and from these shoulders,

  These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken

  A load would sink a navy—too much honour.

  O, ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burden

  Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

  CROMWELL

  I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  I hope I have. I am able now, methinks,

  Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,

  To endure more miseries and greater far

  Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.

  What news abroad?

  CROMWELL

  The heaviest and the worst

  Is your displeasure with the King.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  God bless him.

  CROMWELL

  The next is that Sir Thomas More is ch
osen

  Lord Chancellor in your place.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  That’s somewhat sudden.

  But he’s a learnèd man. May he continue

  Long in his highness’ favour, and do justice

  For truth’s sake and his conscience, that his bones,

  When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,

  May have a tomb of orphans’ tears wept on him.

  What more?

  CROMWELL

  That Cranmer is returned with welcome,

  Installed lord Archbishop of Canterbury.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  That’s news indeed.

  CROMWELL

  Last, that the Lady Anne,

  Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,

  This day was viewed in open as his queen,

  Going to chapel, and the voice is now

  Only about her coronation.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  There was the weight that pulled me down. O,

  Cromwell,

  The King has gone beyond me. All my glories

  In that one woman I have lost for ever.

  No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,

  Or gild again the noble troops that waited

  Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell.

  I am a poor fall’n man, unworthy now

  To be thy lord and master. Seek the King—

  That sun I pray may never set—I have told him

  What and how true thou art. He will advance thee.

  Some little memory of me will stir him.

  I know his noble nature not to let

  Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,

  Neglect him not. Make use now, and provide

  For thine own future safety.

  CROMWELL ⌈weeping⌉

  O, my lord,

  Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo

  So good, so noble, and so true a master?

  Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,

  With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.

  The King shall have my service, but my prayers

  For ever and for ever shall be yours.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY (weeping)

  Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear

  In all my miseries, but thou hast forced me,

  Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

  Let’s dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell,

  And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

  And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention

  Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee—

  Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,

  And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

  Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in,

  A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.

  Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.

  Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition.

  By that sin fell the angels. How can man, then,

  The image of his maker, hope to win by it?

  Love thyself last. Cherish those hearts that hate thee.

  Corruption wins not more than honesty.

  Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace

  To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.

  Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,

  Thy God’s, and truth’s. Then if thou fall’st, O

  Cromwell,

  Thou fall‘st a blessed martyr.

  Serve the King. And prithee, lead me in—

  There take an inventory of all I have:

  To the last penny ’tis the King’s. My robe,

  And my integrity to heaven, is all

  I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,

  Had I but served my God with half the zeal

  I served my King, He would not in mine age

  Have left me naked to mine enemies.

  CROMWELL

  Good sir, have patience.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY So I have. Farewell

  The hopes of court; my hopes in heaven do dwell.

  Exeunt

  4.1 Enter the two Gentlemen meeting one another. The first holds a paper

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  You’re well met once again.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  So are you.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  You come to take your stand here and behold

  The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  ’Tis all my business. At our last encounter

  The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  ’Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow,

  This, general joy.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN ’Tis well. The citizens,

  I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds—

  As, let ’em have their rights, they are ever forward—

  In celebration of this day with shows,

  Pageants, and sights of honour.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  Never greater,

  Nor, I’ll assure you, better taken, sir.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  May I be bold to ask what that contains,

  That paper in your hand?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  Yes, ’tis the list

  Of those that claim their offices this day

  By custom of the coronation.

  The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims

  To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,

  He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest.

  He gives him the paper

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  I thank you, sir. Had I not known those customs,

  I should have been beholden to your paper.

  But I beseech you, what’s become of Katherine,

  The Princess Dowager? How goes her business?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  That I can tell you too. The Archbishop

  Of Canterbury, accompanied with other

  Learned and reverend fathers of his order,

  Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off

  From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which

  She was often cited by them, but appeared not.

  And, to be short, for not appearance, and

  The King’s late scruple, by the main assent

  Of all these learned men, she was divorced,

  And the late marriage made of none effect,

  Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,

  Where she remains now sick.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  Alas, good lady!

  Flourish of trumpets within

  The trumpets sound. Stand close. The Queen is coming.

  Enter the coronation procession, which passes over the stage in order and state. Hautboys, within, ⌈play during the procession⌉

  THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION

  1. First, ⌈enter⌉ trumpeters, who play a lively flourish.

  2. Then, enter two judges.

  3. Then, enter the Lord Chancellor, with both the purse containing the great seal and the mace borne before him.

  4. Then, enter choristers singing; ⌈with them, musicians playing.⌉

  5. Then, enter the Lord Mayor of London bearing the mace, followed by Garter King-of-Arms wearing his coat of arms and a gilt copper crown.

  6. Then, enter Marquis Dorset bearing a sceptre of gold, and wearing, on his head, a demi-coronal of gold and, about his neck, a collar of esses. With him enter the Earl of Surrey bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl’s coronet, and also wearing a collar of esses.

  7. Next, enter the Duke of Suffolk as High Steward, in his robe of estate, with his coronet on his head, and bearing a long white wand. With him, enter the Duke of Norfolk with the rod of marshalship and a coronet on his head. Each wears a collar of esses.

  8. Then, under a canopy
borne by four barons of the Cinque Ports, enter Anne, the new Queen, in her robe. Her hair, which hangs loose, is richly adorned with pearl. She wears a crown. Accompanying her on either side are the Bishops of London and Winchester.

  9. Next, enter the old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen’s train.

  10. Finally, enter certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers. The two Gentlemen comment on the procession as it passes over the stage

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  A royal train, believe me. These I know.

  Who’s that that bears the sceptre?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  Marquis Dorset.

  And that, the Earl of Surrey with the rod.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  A bold brave gentleman. That should be

  The Duke of Suffolk?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  ’Tis the same: High Steward.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  And that, my lord of Norfolk?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  Yes.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN (seeing Anne) Heaven bless thee!

  Thou hast the sweetest face ever looked on.

  Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel.

  Our King has all the Indies in his arms,

  And more, and richer, when he strains that lady.

  I cannot blame his conscience.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  They that bear The cloth of honour over her are four barons

  Of the Cinque Ports.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  Those men are happy, And so are all are near her.

  I take it she that carries up the train

  Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  It is. And all the rest are countesses.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed—

  ⌈FIRST GENTLEMAN⌉

  And sometimes falling ones.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  No more of that.

  Exit the last of the procession, and then

  a great flourish of trumpets within

  Enter a third Gentleman ⌈in a sweat⌉

  FIRST GENTLEMAN

  God save you, sir. Where have you been broiling?

  THIRD GENTLEMAN

  Among the crowd i’th’ Abbey, where a finger

  Could not be wedged in more. I am stifled

  With the mere rankness of their joy.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN

  You saw the ceremony?

  THIRD GENTLEMAN

  That I did.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN How Was it?

  THIRD GENTLEMAN

  Well worth the seeing.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN