Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,

  Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,

  Obeying in commanding, and thy parts

  Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,

  The queen of earthly queens: she’s noble born;

  And, like her true nobility, she has

  Carried herself towards me.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Most gracious sir,

  In humblest manner I require your highness,

  That it shall please you to declare, in hearing

  Of all these ears,— for where I am robb’d and bound,

  There must I be unloosed, although not there

  At once and fully satisfied,— whether ever I

  Did broach this business to your highness; or

  Laid any scruple in your way, which might

  Induce you to the question on’t? or ever

  Have to you, but with thanks to God for such

  A royal lady, spake one the least word that might

  Be to the prejudice of her present state,

  Or touch of her good person?

  King Henry VIII

  My lord cardinal,

  I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,

  I free you from’t. You are not to be taught

  That you have many enemies, that know not

  Why they are so, but, like to village-curs,

  Bark when their fellows do: by some of these

  The queen is put in anger. You’re excused:

  But will you be more justified? You ever

  Have wish’d the sleeping of this business; never desired

  It to be stirr’d; but oft have hinder’d, oft,

  The passages made toward it: on my honour,

  I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,

  And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to’t,

  I will be bold with time and your attention:

  Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to’t:

  My conscience first received a tenderness,

  Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter’d

  By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;

  Who had been hither sent on the debating

  A marriage ’twixt the Duke of Orleans and

  Our daughter Mary: i’ the progress of this business,

  Ere a determinate resolution, he,

  I mean the bishop, did require a respite;

  Wherein he might the king his lord advertise

  Whether our daughter were legitimate,

  Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,

  Sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite shook

  The bosom of my conscience, enter’d me,

  Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble

  The region of my breast; which forced such way,

  That many mazed considerings did throng

  And press’d in with this caution. First, methought

  I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had

  Commanded nature, that my lady’s womb,

  If it conceived a male child by me, should

  Do no more offices of life to’t than

  The grave does to the dead; for her male issue

  Or died where they were made, or shortly after

  This world had air’d them: hence I took a thought,

  This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,

  Well worthy the best heir o’ the world, should not

  Be gladded in’t by me: then follows, that

  I weigh’d the danger which my realms stood in

  By this my issue’s fail; and that gave to me

  Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in

  The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer

  Toward this remedy, whereupon we are

  Now present here together: that’s to say,

  I meant to rectify my conscience,— which

  I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,—

  By all the reverend fathers of the land

  And doctors learn’d: first I began in private

  With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember

  How under my oppression I did reek,

  When I first moved you.

  Lincoln

  Very well, my liege.

  King Henry VIII

  I have spoke long: be pleased yourself to say

  How far you satisfied me.

  Lincoln

  So please your highness,

  The question did at first so stagger me,

  Bearing a state of mighty moment in’t

  And consequence of dread, that I committed

  The daring’st counsel which I had to doubt;

  And did entreat your highness to this course

  Which you are running here.

  King Henry VIII

  I then moved you,

  My Lord of Canterbury; and got your leave

  To make this present summons: unsolicited

  I left no reverend person in this court;

  But by particular consent proceeded

  Under your hands and seals: therefore, go on:

  For no dislike i’ the world against the person

  Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points

  Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward:

  Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life

  And kingly dignity, we are contented

  To wear our mortal state to come with her,

  Katharine our queen, before the primest creature

  That’s paragon’d o’ the world.

  Cardinal Campeius

  So please your highness,

  The queen being absent, ’tis a needful fitness

  That we adjourn this court till further day:

  Meanwhile must be an earnest motion

  Made to the queen, to call back her appeal

  She intends unto his holiness.

  King Henry VIII

  [Aside] I may perceive

  These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor

  This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

  My learn’d and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,

  Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know,

  My comfort comes along. Break up the court:

  I say, set on.

  Exeunt in manner as they entered

  ACT III

  SCENE I. LONDON. QUEEN KATHARINE’S APARTMENTS.

  Enter Queen Katharine and her Women, as at work

  Queen Katharine

  Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;

  Sing, and disperse ’em, if thou canst: leave working.

  Song

  Orpheus with his lute made trees,

  And the mountain tops that freeze,

  Bow themselves when he did sing:

  To his music plants and flowers

  Ever sprung; as sun and showers

  There had made a lasting spring.

  Every thing that heard him play,

  Even the billows of the sea,

  Hung their heads, and then lay by.

  In sweet music is such art,

  Killing care and grief of heart

  Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

  Enter a Gentleman

  Queen Katharine

  How now!

  Gentleman

  An’t please your grace, the two great cardinals

  Wait in the presence.

  Queen Katharine

  Would they speak with me?

  Gentleman

  They will’d me say so, madam.

  Queen Katharine

  Pray their graces

  To come near.

  Exit Gentleman

  What can be their business

  With me, a poor weak woman, fall’n from favour?

  I do not like their coming. Now I think on’t,

  They should be good men; their affairs as righteous:

  But all hoods make not monks.

  Enter Card
inal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Peace to your highness!

  Queen Katharine

  Your graces find me here part of a housewife,

  I would be all, against the worst may happen.

  What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?

  Cardinal Wolsey

  May it please you noble madam, to withdraw

  Into your private chamber, we shall give you

  The full cause of our coming.

  Queen Katharine

  Speak it here:

  There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience,

  Deserves a corner: would all other women

  Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!

  My lords, I care not, so much I am happy

  Above a number, if my actions

  Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw ’em,

  Envy and base opinion set against ’em,

  I know my life so even. If your business

  Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,

  Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,—

  Queen Katharine

  O, good my lord, no Latin;

  I am not such a truant since my coming,

  As not to know the language I have lived in:

  A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious;

  Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you,

  If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ sake;

  Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal,

  The willing’st sin I ever yet committed

  May be absolved in English.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Noble lady,

  I am sorry my integrity should breed,

  And service to his majesty and you,

  So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.

  We come not by the way of accusation,

  To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,

  Nor to betray you any way to sorrow,

  You have too much, good lady; but to know

  How you stand minded in the weighty difference

  Between the king and you; and to deliver,

  Like free and honest men, our just opinions

  And comforts to your cause.

  Cardinal Campeius

  Most honour’d madam,

  My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,

  Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,

  Forgetting, like a good man your late censure

  Both of his truth and him, which was too far,

  Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,

  His service and his counsel.

  Queen Katharine

  [Aside] To betray me.—

  My lords, I thank you both for your good wills;

  Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so!

  But how to make ye suddenly an answer,

  In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,—

  More near my life, I fear,— with my weak wit,

  And to such men of gravity and learning,

  In truth, I know not. I was set at work

  Among my maids: full little, God knows, looking

  Either for such men or such business.

  For her sake that I have been,— for I feel

  The last fit of my greatness,— good your graces,

  Let me have time and counsel for my cause:

  Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Madam, you wrong the king’s love with these fears:

  Your hopes and friends are infinite.

  Queen Katharine

  In England

  But little for my profit: can you think, lords,

  That any Englishman dare give me counsel?

  Or be a known friend, ’gainst his highness’ pleasure,

  Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,

  And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,

  They that must weigh out my afflictions,

  They that my trust must grow to, live not here:

  They are, as all my other comforts, far hence

  In mine own country, lords.

  Cardinal Campeius

  I would your grace

  Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.

  Queen Katharine

  How, sir?

  Cardinal Campeius

  Put your main cause into the king’s protection;

  He’s loving and most gracious: ’twill be much

  Both for your honour better and your cause;

  For if the trial of the law o’ertake ye,

  You’ll part away disgraced.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  He tells you rightly.

  Queen Katharine

  Ye tell me what ye wish for both,— my ruin:

  Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!

  Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge

  That no king can corrupt.

  Cardinal Campeius

  Your rage mistakes us.

  Queen Katharine

  The more shame for ye: holy men I thought ye,

  Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;

  But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye:

  Mend ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort?

  The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,

  A woman lost among ye, laugh’d at, scorn’d?

  I will not wish ye half my miseries;

  I have more charity: but say, I warn’d ye;

  Take heed, for heaven’s sake, take heed, lest at once

  The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Madam, this is a mere distraction;

  You turn the good we offer into envy.

  Queen Katharine

  Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye

  And all such false professors! would you have me —

  If you have any justice, any pity;

  If ye be any thing but churchmen’s habits —

  Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?

  Alas, has banish’d me his bed already,

  His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords,

  And all the fellowship I hold now with him

  Is only my obedience. What can happen

  To me above this wretchedness? all your studies

  Make me a curse like this.

  Cardinal Campeius

  Your fears are worse.

  Queen Katharine

  Have I lived thus long — let me speak myself,

  Since virtue finds no friends — a wife, a true one?

  A woman, I dare say without vain-glory,

  Never yet branded with suspicion?

  Have I with all my full affections

  Still met the king? loved him next heaven? obey’d him?

  Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?

  Almost forgot my prayers to content him?

  And am I thus rewarded? ’tis not well, lords.

  Bring me a constant woman to her husband,

  One that ne’er dream’d a joy beyond his pleasure;

  And to that woman, when she has done most,

  Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

  Queen Katharine

  My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,

  To give up willingly that noble title

  Your master wed me to: nothing but death

  Shall e’er divorce my dignities.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Pray, hear me.

  Queen Katharine

  Would I had never trod this English earth,

  Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!

  Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows your hearts.

  What will become o
f me now, wretched lady!

  I am the most unhappy woman living.

  Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!

  Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity,

  No friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me;

  Almost no grave allow’d me: like the lily,

  That once was mistress of the field and flourish’d,

  I’ll hang my head and perish.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  If your grace

  Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,

  You’ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,

  Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places,

  The way of our profession is against it:

  We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ’em.

  For goodness’ sake, consider what you do;

  How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly

  Grow from the king’s acquaintance, by this carriage.

  The hearts of princes kiss obedience,

  So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits

  They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.

  I know you have a gentle, noble temper,

  A soul as even as a calm: pray, think us

  Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants.

  Cardinal Campeius

  Madam, you’ll find it so. You wrong your virtues

  With these weak women’s fears: a noble spirit,

  As yours was put into you, ever casts

  Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;

  Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please

  To trust us in your business, we are ready

  To use our utmost studies in your service.

  Queen Katharine

  Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me,

  If I have used myself unmannerly;

  You know I am a woman, lacking wit

  To make a seemly answer to such persons.

  Pray, do my service to his majesty:

  He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers

  While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,

  Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,

  That little thought, when she set footing here,

  She should have bought her dignities so dear.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. ANTE-CHAMBER TO KING HENRY VIII’S APARTMENT.

  Enter Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey, and Chamberlain

  Norfolk

  If you will now unite in your complaints,

  And force them with a constancy, the cardinal

  Cannot stand under them: if you omit

  The offer of this time, I cannot promise

  But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces,

  With these you bear already.

  Surrey

  I am joyful

  To meet the least occasion that may give me

  Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,

  To be revenged on him.

  Suffolk