King Henry the Eighth

ACT III.SCENE 2

London. The palace

Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD 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 reveng'd on him.  SUFFOLK. 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?  CHAMBERLAIN. 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 th' King, never attempt    Anything on him; for he hath a witchcraft    Over the King in's tongue.  NORFOLK. 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.  SURREY. Sir,    I should be glad to hear such news as this    Once every hour.  NORFOLK. Believe it, this is true:    In the divorce his contrary proceedings    Are all unfolded; wherein he appears    As I would wish mine enemy.  SURREY. How came    His practices to light?  SUFFOLK. Most Strangely.  SURREY. O, how, how?  SUFFOLK. The Cardinal's letters to the Pope miscarried,    And came to th' eye o' th' King; wherein was read    How that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness    To stay the judgment o' th' divorce; for if    It did take place, 'I do' quoth he 'perceive    My king is tangled in affection to    A creature of the Queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.'  SURREY. Has the King this?  SUFFOLK. Believe it.  SURREY. Will this work?  CHAMBERLAIN. The King in this perceives him how he coasts    And hedges his own way. But in this point    All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic    After his patient's death: the King already    Hath married the fair lady.  SURREY. Would he had!  SUFFOLK. May you be happy in your wish, my lord!    For, I profess, you have it.  SURREY. Now, all my joy    Trace the conjunction!  SUFFOLK. My amen to't!  NORFOLK. An men's!  SUFFOLK. 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.  SURREY. But will the King    Digest this letter of the Cardinal's?    The Lord forbid!  NORFOLK. Marry, amen!  SUFFOLK. No, no;    There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose    Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius    Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave;    Has left the cause o' th' King unhandled, and    Is posted, as the agent of our Cardinal,    To second all his plot. I do assure you    The King cried 'Ha!' at this.  CHAMBERLAIN. Now, God incense him,    And let him cry 'Ha!' louder!  NORFOLK. But, my lord,    When returns Cranmer?  SUFFOLK. 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.  NORFOLK. This same Cranmer's    A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain    In the King's business.  SUFFOLK. He has; and we shall see him    For it an archbishop.  NORFOLK. So I hear.  SUFFOLK. 'Tis so.

Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL

    The Cardinal!  NORFOLK. Observe, observe, he's moody.  WOLSEY. The packet, Cromwell,    Gave't you the King?  CROMWELL. To his own hand, in's bedchamber.  WOLSEY. Look'd he o' th' inside of the paper?  CROMWELL. Presently    He did unseal them; and the first he view'd,    He did it with a serious mind; a heed    Was in his countenance. You he bade    Attend him here this morning.  WOLSEY. Is he ready    To come abroad?  CROMWELL. I think by this he is.  WOLSEY. Leave me awhile. ExitCROMWELL    [Aside] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,    The French King's sister; he shall marry her.    Anne Bullen! No, I'll no Anne Bullens for him;    There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen!    No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish    To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!  NORFOLK. He's discontented.  SUFFOLK. May be he hears the King    Does whet his anger to him.  SURREY. Sharp enough,    Lord, for thy justice!  WOLSEY. [Aside] The late Queen's gentlewoman, a knight's      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' th' 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.  NORFOLK. He is vex'd at something.

Enter the KING, reading of a schedule, and LOVELL

  SURREY. I would 'twere something that would fret the string,    The master-cord on's heart!  SUFFOLK. The King, the King!  KING. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated    To his own portion! And what expense by th' hour    Seems to flow from him! How, i' th' name of thrift,    Does he rake this together? – Now, my lords,    Saw you the Cardinal?  NORFOLK. 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.  KING. It may well be    There is a mutiny in's 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 outspeaks    Possession of a subject.  NORFOLK. It's heaven's will;    Some spirit put this paper in the packet    To bless your eye withal.  KING. 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.                        [The KING takes his seat and whispersLOVELL,                                           who goes to theCARDINAL]  WOLSEY. Heaven forgive me!    Ever God bless your Highness!  KING. 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.  WOLSEY. Sir,    For holy offices I have a time; a time    To think upon the part of business which    I bear i' th' state; and nature does require    Her times of preservation, which perforce    I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,    Must give my tendance to.  KING. You have said well.  WOLSEY. And ever may your Highness yoke together,    As I will lend you cause, my doing well    With my well saying!  KING. '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.  WOLSEY. [Aside] What should this mean?  SURREY. [Aside] The Lord increase this business!  KING. 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?  WOLSEY. My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,    Show'r'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 fil'd with my abilities; mine own ends    Have been mine so that evermore they pointed    To th' 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 pray'rs to heaven for you; my loyalty,    Which ever has and ever shall be growing,    Till death, that winter, kill it.  KING. Fairly answer'd!    A loyal and obedient subject is    Therein illustrated; the honour of it    Does pay the act of it, as, i' th' contrary,    The foulness is the punishment. I presume    That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,    My heart dropp'd love, my pow'r 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.  WOLSEY. I do profess    That for your Highness' 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 'em, and    Appear in forms more horrid-yet my duty,    As doth a rock against the chiding flood,    Should the approach of this wild river break,    And stand unshaken yours.  KING. 'Tis nobly spoken.    Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,    For you have seen him open 't. Read o'er this;                                                  [Giving himpapers]    And after, this; and then to breakfast with    What appetite you have.                Exit the KING, frowning upon the CARDINAL; theNOBLES                             throng after him, smiling andwhispering  WOLSEY. What should this mean?    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;    This paper has undone me. 'Tis th' account    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 th' Pope.'    The letter, as I live, with all the business    I writ to's 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 to WOLSEY the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN

  NORFOLK. 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.  WOLSEY. Stay:    Where's your commission, lords? Words cannot carry    Authority so weighty.  SUFFOLK. Who dares cross 'em,    Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly?  WOLSEY. 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 'em, 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?  SURREY. The King, that gave it.  WOLSEY. It must be himself then.  SURREY. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.  WOLSEY. Proud lord, thou liest.    Within these forty hours Surrey durst better    Have burnt that tongue than said so.  SURREY. 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 policy!    You sent me deputy for Ireland;    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.  WOLSEY. 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 in the way of loyalty and truth    Toward the King, my ever royal master,    Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be    And an that love his follies.  SURREY. By my soul,    Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel    My sword i' the 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.  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, Cardinal, 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 despis'd nobility, our issues,    Whom, 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 sacring bell, when the brown wench    Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.  WOLSEY. How much, methinks, I could despise this man,    But that I am bound in charity against it!  NORFOLK. Those articles, my lord, are in the King's hand;    But, thus much, they are foul ones.  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.  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 maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.  NORFOLK. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else    To foreign princes, 'Ego et Rex meus'    Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the King    To be your servant.  SUFFOLK. 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. 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. That out of mere ambition you have caus'd    Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the King's coin.  SURREY. 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.  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 legatine 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. 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 butWOLSEY  WOLSEY. So farewell to the little good you bear me.    Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!    This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth    The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow 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 ventur'd,    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 open'd. 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, standing amazed

    Why, how now, Cromwell!  CROMWELL. I have no power to speak, sir.  WOLSEY. What, amaz'd    At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder    A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,    I am fall'n indeed.  CROMWELL. How does your Grace?  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 cur'd me,    I humbly thank his Grace; and from these shoulders,    These ruin'd 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.  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.  WOLSEY. God bless him!  CROMWELL. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen    Lord Chancellor in your place.  WOLSEY. That's somewhat sudden.    But he's a learned 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 return'd with welcome,    Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.  WOLSEY. That's news indeed.  CROMWELL. Last, that the Lady Anne,    Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,    This day was view'd in open as his queen,    Going to chapel; and the voice is now    Only about her coronation.  WOLSEY. There was the weight that pull'd 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. 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.  WOLSEY. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear    In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd 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 miss'd it.    Mark but my fall and that that ruin'd 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 serv'd my God with half the zeal    I serv'd my King, he would not in mine age    Have left me naked to mine enemies.  CROMWELL. Good sir, have patience.  WOLSEY. So I have. Farewell    The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell.Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 1

A street in Westminster

Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting one another

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Y'are 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 offer'd      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.  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thank you, sir; had I not known      those customs,    I should have been beholding to your paper.    But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,    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 of    From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which    She was often cited by them, but appear'd 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 divorc'd,    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![Trumpets]    The trumpets sound. Stand close, the Queen is coming.[Hautboys]

THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION.