The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic] & Reed, with glossarial notes, his life, etc. by N. Rowe

And press'd in with this caution. First, me- | Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: ieavo

thought,

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
Dr died where they were made, or shortly after
This world had air'd them: Hence I took a
[dom,
This was a judgement on me; that my king-
Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should
Be gladded in't by me: then follows, that [not
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
1 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,t
When I first mov'd you.

Lin. Very well, my liege.

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 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.

Enter a GENTLEMAN.

Q. Kath. How new?

Gent. An't please your grace, the two great cardinals

Wait in the presence."

Q. Kath. Would they speak with me?
Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
Q. Kath. Pray their graces

To come near. [Exit GENT.] What can be
their business

[vour?

K. Hen. I have spoke long; be pleas'd your-With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from fa

self to say

How far you satisfied me.

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,

[on:

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
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 crea-
That's paragon'd; o'the world.

Cam. So please your highness,

[ture

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.

[They rise to depart.
[Aside.

K. Hen. 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, r'ythee return! with thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along. Break up the court: 1 say, set on.

[Exeunt in manner as they entered.

ACT III.

SCENE I-Palace at Bridewell.
A Room in the Queen's Apartment.
The QUEEN, and some of her Women, at work.
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul
grows sad with troubles;

I do not like their coming, now I think on't. They should be good men; their affairst as righteous:

But all hoods make not monks.

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.
Wol. Peace to your highness!

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
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
withdraw
The full cause of our coming.

Q. Kath. Speak it here;
[science,
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my con
Deserves a corner: 'Would, all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!
Above a number,) if my actions
My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy
[them,
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw
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 ergà 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, suspicious;

thank you,

Pray, speak in English: here are some will
[sake;
Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress'
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 Floating without guidance. + Waste, or wear away. Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;

1 Without compare.

An apostrophe to the absent bishop

(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.

Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears;

Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Q. Kath. 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,

[est,)

(Though he be grown so desperate to be honAnd 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.

Cum. I would, your grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. Q. Kath. How, Sir?

Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection; [much He's loving, and most gracious; 'twill be Both for your honour better, and your cause; For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you, You'll part away disgrac'd.

Wol. He tells you rightly.

Q. Kath. 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.

Cam. Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath. 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 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.

* Outweigh.

And all such false professors! Would ye have (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! 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
Make me a curse like this.
[studies

Cam. Your fears are worse. Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long-(let me speak myself, [one? Since virtue finds no friends,)-a wife, a true A woman (I dare say, without vainglory,) Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections Still met the king? lov'd 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 plea

Wol. 'Pray, hear me.

Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trods this English earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! 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 for-
tunes?
[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 flour-
ish'd,

I'll hang my head, and perish.
Wol. If your grace

Could but be brought to know, our ends are

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
You wrong

servants.

Cam. Madam, you'll find it so.

your virtues

[spirit,

With these weak women's fears. A noble

* Served him with superstitious attention.

Sur. I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, To be reveng'd on him.

Suf. Which of the peers

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures:
What he deserves of you and me, I know;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his tongue.

Nor. O, fear him not;

His spell in that is out: the king hath found Matter against him, that for ever mars

The honey of his language. No, he's settled, Not to come off, in his displeasure.

Sur. Sir,

I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour.

Nor. Believe it, this is true.

In the divorce, his contrary proceedings Are all unfolded; wherein he appears, As I could wish mine enemy.

Sur. How came

His practices to light?
Suf. Most strangely.
Sur. O, how, how?

Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,

And came to the eye o'the king: wherein

was read,

[lord?

Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my
For, I profess, you have it.
Sur. Now all my joy

Trace the conjunction!
Suf. My amen to't!
Nor. All men's.

Suf. There's order given for her coronation:
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecounted.-But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.

Sur. But, will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal's?
The Lord forbid !

Nor. Marry, amen!
Suf. No, no;

There be more wasps that buz about his nose,
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal
Campeius

Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;
Has left the cause o'the king unhandled; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you
The king cry'd, ha! at this.

Cham. Now, God incense him,
And let him cry ha, louder!
Nor. But, my lord,

When returns Cranmer?

Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions; which Have satisfied the king for his divorce, Together with all famous colleges Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, His second marriage shall be publish'd, and Her coronation. Katharine no more Shall be call'd, queen; but princess dowager And widow to prince Arthur.

Nor. This same Cranmer's

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.

Suf. He has; and we shall see him
For it, an archbishop.

Nor. So I hear.

Suf. 'Tis so.

The cardinal

Wol. Is he ready

To come abroad?

Crom. I think, by this he is.
Wol. Leave me a while.-

[Exit CROMWELL.

It shall be to the duchess of Alençon,
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.

Suf. May be, he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur. Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice!

Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!

[it;

This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff 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
A 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.

[up

Of your best graces in your mind; the which You were now running o'er; you have scarce time

To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
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,
Must give my tendance to.
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,

K. Hen. You have said well.

Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,

As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!

K. Hen. "Tis well said again;
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd
And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:

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

Suf. I would, 'twere something that would Employ'd you where high profits might come

fret the string,

The master-cord of his heart!

Enter the KING, reading a Schedule;* and
LOVELL.

Suf. 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 com[motion 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, Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks Possession of a subject.

Nor. It's heaven's will;

Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
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.

[He takes his seat, and whispers LOVELL,
who goes to WOLSEY.

Wol. Heaven forgive me!

Ever God bless your highness!

home,

But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

Wol. What should this mean?

Sur. The Lord increase this business!

[Aside.
K. Hen. Have I not made you
[me,
If what I now pronounce, you have found true:
The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell
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,

[could
My studied purposes requite; which went
Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than
Beyond all man's endeavours:-my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed
Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends
The profit of the state. For your great graces
To the good of your most sacred person, and
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I

Can nothing render but allegiant thanks;
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
Till death, that winter, kill it.

K. Hen. Fairly answer'd;
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated: The honour of it
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary,
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd hon-

our, more

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

Wol. I do profess

That for yourhighness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own; that am, have, and will
be.
Though all the world should crack their duty
[to you,
And throw it from their soul: though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make them,
and

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty,

K. Hen. Good my lord,

inventory

As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

K. Hen. 'Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this; [Giving him papers. And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have.

[Exit KING, frowning upon Cardinal WOLSEY: the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering. Wol. What should this mean? What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd He parted frowning from me, as if ruin [it? 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;
This paper has undone me:-"Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn to-
gether

[dom,
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the pope-
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,
1 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 SURREY, and the Lord CHAMBER

LAIN.

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

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol. Stay,

Where's your commission, lords? words can-
not carry
Authority so weighty.

Suf. Who dare cross them? [pressly? Bearing the king's will from his mouth exWol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it,

(I mean, your malice,) know, officious 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 ruin!
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?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol. It must be himself then.

* Esher in Surrey

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. Wol. Proud lord, thou liest; Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue, than said so. Sur. Thy ambition,

Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: The heads of all thy brother cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,)

Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your po You sent me deputy for Ireland; [licy! Far from his succour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;

Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol. This, and all else

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

Sur. By my soul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st feel

My sword i'the life-blood of thee else.-My
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? [lords.
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.‡
Wol. All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur. Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets, You writ to the pope, against the king: your [rious.

goodness,

Since you provoke me, shall be most noto-
My lord of Norfolk,-as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,-
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:-I'll startle you
Worse than the scaring bell, when the brown
wench

Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise

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The dramatic works of William Shakspere, from the text of Johnson, Stevens ...