King Henry the Eighth

  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 rais'd me.  KING. Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks andwhispers]  CAMPEIUS. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace    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    And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,    Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him    That he ran mad and died.  WOLSEY. Heav'n's peace be with him!    That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers    There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,    For he would needs be virtuous: 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 grip'd by meaner persons.  KING. Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen.                                                        ExitGARDINER    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 furnish'd. O, my lord,    Would it not grieve an able man to leave    So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!    O, 'tis a tender place! and I must leave her.

Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 3

London. The palace

Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY

  ANNE. Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches:    His Highness having liv'd 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    So many courses of the sun enthroned,    Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which    To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than    'Tis sweet at first t' acquire-after this process,    To give her the avaunt, it is a pity    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, fortune, do divorce    It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging    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    Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring 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,    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,    Saving your mincing, the capacity    Of your soft cheveril 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.  OLD LADY. 'Tis strange: a threepence bow'd 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;    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    For all the world.  OLD LADY. In faith, for little England    You'd venture an emballing. I myself    Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd    No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  CHAMBERLAIN. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know    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    All will be well.  ANNE. Now, I pray God, amen!  CHAMBERLAIN. You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings    Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,    Perceive I speak sincerely and high notes    Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's Majesty    Commends his good opinion of you to you, and    Does purpose honour to you no less flowing    Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which tide    A thousand pound a year, annual support,    Out of his grace he adds.  ANNE. I do not know    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,    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 perus'd her well:    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 LORDCHAMBERLAIN  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!    A very fresh-fish here-fie, fie, fie upon    This compell'd fortune! – have your mouth fill'd 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-    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!    No other obligation! By my life,    That promises moe 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,    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    In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver    What here y' have heard to her.  OLD LADY. What do you think me?

Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 4

London. A hall in Blackfriars

Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. 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 SAINT 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 silver cross; then a GENTLEMAN USHER bareheaded, 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 CARDINALS, WOLSEY 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; the two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place some distance from the KING. The BISHOPS place themselves on each side of the court, in manner of consistory; below them the SCRIBES. 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 allow'd;    You may then spare that time.  WOLSEY. Be't so; proceed.  SCRIBE. Say 'Henry King of England, come into the court.'  CRIER. Henry King of England, &c.  KING. Here.  SCRIBE. Say 'Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.'  CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, &c.

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

  QUEEN KATHARINE. 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    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 of    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 conformable,    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    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    Upward of twenty years, and have been blest    With many children by you. If, in the course    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,    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 sharp'st 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 humbly    Beseech you, sir, to spare me till I may    Be by my friends in Spain advis'd, whose counsel    I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God,    Your pleasure be fulfill'd!  WOLSEY. You have here, lady,    And of your choice, these reverend fathers-men    Of singular integrity and learning,    Yea, the elect o' th' land, who are assembled    To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless    That longer you desire the court, as well    For your own quiet as to rectify    What is unsettled in the King.  CAMPEIUS. His Grace    Hath spoken well and justly; therefore, madam,    It's fit this royal session do proceed    And that, without delay, their arguments    Be now produc'd and heard.  QUEEN KATHARINE. Lord Cardinal,    To you I speak.  WOLSEY. Your pleasure, madam?  QUEEN KATHARINE. Sir,    I am about to weep; but, thinking that    We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain    The daughter of a king, my drops of tears    I'll turn to sparks of fire.  WOLSEY. Be patient yet.  QUEEN KATHARINE. I Will, when you are humble; nay, before    Or God will punish me. I do believe,    Induc'd by potent circumstances, that    You are mine enemy, and make my challenge    You shall not be my judge; for it is you    Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me-    Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again,    I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul    Refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more    I hold my most malicious foe and think not    At all a friend to truth.  WOLSEY. I do profess    You speak not like yourself, who ever yet    Have stood to charity and display'd th' effects    Of disposition gentle and of wisdom    O'ertopping woman's pow'r. Madam, you do me wrong:    I have no spleen against you, nor injustice    For you or any; how far I have proceeded,    Or how far further shall, is warranted    By a commission from the Consistory,    Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me    That I have blown this coal: I do deny it.    The King is present; if it be known to him    That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,    And worthily, my falsehood! Yea, as much    As you have done my truth. If he know    That I am free of your report, he knows    I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him    It lies to cure me, and the cure is to    Remove these thoughts from you; the which before    His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech    You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking    And to say so no more.  QUEEN KATHARINE. My lord, my lord,    I am a simple woman, much too weak    T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek and humble-mouth'd;    You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,    With meekness and humility; but your heart    Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.    You have, by fortune and his Highness' favours,    Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted    Where pow'rs 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.                     [She curtsies to the KING, and offers todepart]  CAMPEIUS. The Queen is obstinate,    Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and    Disdainful to be tried by't; 'tis not well.    She's going away.  KING. Call her again.  CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.  GENTLEMAN USHER. Madam, you are call'd back.  QUEEN KATHARINE. What need you note it? Pray you keep your way;    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 and herattendants  KING. Go thy ways, Kate.    That man i' th' 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's noble born;    And like her true nobility she has    Carried herself towards me.  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 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 that might    Be to the prejudice of her present state,    Or touch of her good person?  KING. 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. Y'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 hind'red, 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 th' inducement. Thus it came-give heed to't:    My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,    Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd    By th' 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' th' 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 forc'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 it 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' th' 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 mov'd you.  LINCOLN. Very well, my liege.  KING. I have spoke long; be pleas'd 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. 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' th' world against the person    Of the good Queen, but the sharp thorny points    Of my alleged reasons, drives this forward.    Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life    And kingly dignity, we are contented    To wear our moral state to come with her,    Katharine our queen, before the primest creature    That's paragon'd o' th' world.  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. [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. Exuent in manner as theyentered

ACT III. SCENE 1

London. The QUEEN'S apartments

Enter the QUEEN 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 the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS

  WOLSEY. Peace to your Highness!  QUEEN KATHARINE. Your Graces find me here part of housewife;    I would be all, against the worst may happen.    What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?  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 ev'ry tongue, ev'ry 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.  WOLSEY. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, reginaserenis-sima-  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 liv'd 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 absolv'd in English.  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.  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 wins;    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!  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.  CAMPEIUS. I would your Grace    Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.  QUEEN KATHARINE. How, sir?  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 disgrac'd.  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.  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 warned ye.    Take heed, for heaven's sake take heed, lest at once    The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.  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.  CAMPEIUS. Your fears are worse.  QUEEN KATHARINE. Have I liv'd 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, lov'd him next heav'n, 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.  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.  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 of me now, wretched lady?    I am the most unhappy woman living.    [To her WOMEN] Alas, poor wenches, where are now      your fortunes?    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 My,    That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,    I'll hang my head and perish.  WOLSEY. If your Grace    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 '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.  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 us'd 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