The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare. With a Glossary

More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers, and

wishes,

Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his highness;
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.

Cham.

Lady,

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,
The king hath of you. I have perus'd her well;

[Aside.

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? I'll to the king,

And say, I spoke with you.

Anne.

My honour'd lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Old L. 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!)

A very fresh fish here, (fie, fie upon

Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice; And to bestow your pity on me: for

Alas, sir,

I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding.
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,
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will comformable:

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,

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 deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,

This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth filld up, Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
Before you open it.

Anne.

This is strange to me.

With many children by you If, in the course
And process of this time, you can report

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
There was a lady once ('tis an old story),
That would not be a queen, that would she not,

with short Silver Wands; next them, two Scribes, in the Habits of Doctors; after them, the bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and St. Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a

Gentle

My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent

And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one
The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many
A year before: It is not to be question'd
That they had gather'd a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I hum-
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

man 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, bear-
ing two great Silver Pillars; after them, side by
side, the two Cardin Wolsey olsey and Campeius:
two Noblemen with the Sword and Mace. Then
enter the King and Queen, and their Trains. The
King takes Place under the Cloth of State; I'll turn to sparks of fire. the

Q. Kath.

Sir,

I am about to weep; but, thinking that
We queen (or long have dream'd so), certain,

The daughter of a king, my drops of tears

as Judges. The Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble; nay, before,

You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects

Scribe. Say, Henry, king of England, come into Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom

My lord, my lord,

[mouth'd;

I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and humble-
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is eramm a'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have, by fortune, and his highness' highness favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers: and your words
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour, than
Your high profession spiritual: That again
I do refuse you for my judge; and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the pope,

To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
And to be judg'd by him.

Cam.

[She courtesies to the King, ond offers to depart.
The queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be tried by it; 'tis not well.
She's going away.

K. Hen.

Call her again.

[court.

Crier. Katharine, queen of England, come into the Grif. Madam, you are call'd back. [your way: Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray you, keep When you are call'd, return.-Now the Lord help, They vex me past my patience!-pray you, pass on: I will not tarry; no, nor ever more,

Upon this business, my appearance make

In any of their courts.

[Exeunt Queen, Griffith, and her other Attendants. K. Hen.

Go thy thy wa

ways, Kate :
That man i'the world, who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone
(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 is noble born;
And, like her true nobility, she has

Carried herself towards me.
Wol.

Most gracious sir,
your highness,

In humblest manner I require you quire your
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 unloos'd; 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, might
Be to the prejudice of her present state,

Or touch of her good person?

K. Hen.

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 are excus'd:
But will you be more justified? you ever

Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never
Desir'd 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 mov'd 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 receiv'd a tenderness,
Seruple, and prick, on certain specches 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 pow power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast; which fore'd such way,
That many maz'd 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 not conceiv'd 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,

Aud 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 mov'd you.

Lin.

Very well, my liege.

K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to
How far you satisfied me.
[say
Lin.
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.

K. Hen.

I then mov'd 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.

Sing, and disperse them, if thoucanst: 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 and flowers, flowers,
Ever sprung; as sun, and showers,
There had been 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.

Q. Kath. 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?
Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.

Q. Kath.

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 actious

Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,

Envy and base opinion set against them,

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.

Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina

serenissima,

Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin;

I am not such a truant since my coming,

As not to know the language I have liv'd in:

A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, sus

Pray

picious;

you,

y,speak in English : here are some will thank 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 absolv'd in English.

Wol.

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.

Cam.

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 censu e
Both of his truth and him (which was too far),-
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,

His service and his counsel.

Q. Kath.

To betray me. [Aside.

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so!)
But how to make you 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, of 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.

Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues: [ye,
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye:
Mend them 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 burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;

You turn the good we offer into envy.

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity;

If ye he any thing but churchmen's habits),
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me t

Alas! he 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.

Since virtue finds no friends), -a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare say, without without vain-glory), vain-
Never yet branded with suspicion ?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd
Been, out of fondness, superstitions 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.

Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
[carth,
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched lady ?
I am the most unhappy woman living.-
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
[To her Women.

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, 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.

Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest, You'd 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 them.

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.
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your

I think, by this he is.

It shall be the duchess of Alencon,

The French king's sister he shall marry her.

Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:

There is more in it than fair visage. Bullen!

No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish

To hear from Rome. The marchioness of Pembroke!

Nor. He's discontented.

daughter,

To be her mistress mistress! the queen's queen!-
This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes. - What though I know her virtuous
And well-deserving? yet I know her for

A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i'the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one

Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Nor.

He is vex'd at something.

Suff. I would, 'twere something that would fret the

The master-cord of his heart!

[string,

Enter the King, reading a Schedule; and Lovell.

The king, the king.

K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion! and what expense by the hour Seems to flow from him! How, i'the name of thrift, Does he rake this together?-Now, my lords:

Saw you the cardinal?

Nor.

My lord, we have

Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;

Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.

K. Hen.

It may well be; There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning, Papers of state he sent me to peruse,

As I requir'd; And, wot you, what I found
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing.-
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,

To bless your eye withal.

K. Hen.

If we did think

His contemplation were above the earth,

And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid,

His thinkings are below the moon; not worth

His serious considering.

Wol.

What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear, the story of his anger. "Tis so;

[He takes his Seat, and whispers Lovell, who This paper has undone me: "Tis the account

goes to Wolsey. Heaven forgive me!

Ever God bless your highness!
K. Hen.

Good, my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure, a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad

To have you therein my companion.
Wol.

Sir,

For holy offices I have a time a time
To think upon the part of business, which
I bear i'the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,

Must give my tendance to.

K. Hen.

You have said well.

Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together, As I will lend yon cause, my doing well

With my well saying!

K. Hen.

'Tis well said again;

And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you;
He said, he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,

I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow

My bounties upon you.

Wol.

What should this mean?

Surry.
Surry. The Lord increase this business! [Aside.
K. Hen.

Have I not made you

The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal,

If you are bound to us, or no. What say you?

Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man's endeavours:-my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fill'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,

Till death, that winter, kill it.

Therein illustrated: The honour of it

Does pay the act of it; as, i'the contrary.

The foulness is the punishment. I presume,

That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more

On you, than any; so your hand, and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more

To me, your friend, than any.

Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet,
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know, 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,
Will bring me off again. What's this-To the Pope?
The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to his holiness. Nay, then, farewell!
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;
And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
Earl of Surry, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who com

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly! Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it

(I mean, your malice), know, officions lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel

Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,

As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my rain!
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king
(Mine, and your master), with his own hand gave me:
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it?
Surry. The king, that gave it.
Wol.

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts; how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,

His noble jury and foul cause can witness.

If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,

You have as little modesty as honour;

That I, in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the king, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surry can be, And all that love his follies.

Surry.

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst My sword i'the life-blood of thee else. My lords,

Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?

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