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The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight

 I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now,
 That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow,
 Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe:
 Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow
 We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere
 May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare,
 The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue
 Their Money out of hope they may beleeue,
 May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see
 Onely a show or two, and so agree,
 The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing,
 Ile vndertake may see away their shilling
 Richly in two short houres. Onely they
 That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play,
 A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow
 In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow,
 Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hearers, know
 To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show
 As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting
 Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring
 To make that onely true, we now intend,
 Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend.
 Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne
 The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne,
 Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see
 The very Persons of our Noble Story,
 As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great,
 And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat
 Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see
 How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery:
 And if you can be merry then, Ile say,
 A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.
 Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
 Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of
 Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.
   Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done
 Since last we saw in France?
   Norf. I thanke your Grace:
 Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer
 Of what I saw there
    Buck. An vntimely Ague
 Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when
 Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men
 Met in the vale of Andren
    Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde,
 I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke,
 Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung
 In their Embracement, as they grew together,
 Which had they,
 What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd
 Such a compounded one?
   Buck. All the whole time
 I was my Chambers Prisoner
    Nor. Then you lost
 The view of earthly glory: Men might say
 Till this time Pompe was single, but now married
 To one aboue it selfe. Each following day
 Became the next dayes master, till the last
 Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French,
 All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods
 Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they
 Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood,
 Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were
 As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
 Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare
 The Pride vpon them, that their very labour
 Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske
 Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night
 Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings
 Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst
 As presence did present them: Him in eye,
 Still him in praise, and being present both,
 'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner
 Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes
 (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd
 The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe
 Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie
 Being now seene, possible enough, got credit
 That Beuis was beleeu'd
    Buc. Oh you go farre
    Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
 In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing,
 Would by a good Discourser loose some life,
 Which Actions selfe, was tongue too
    Buc. All was Royall,
 To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
 Order gaue each thing view. The Office did
 Distinctly his full Function: who did guide,
 I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes
 Of this great Sport together?
   Nor. As you guesse:
 One certes, that promises no Element
 In such a businesse
    Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?
   Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion
 Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke
    Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed
 From his Ambitious finger. What had he
 To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder,
 That such a Keech can with his very bulke
 Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun,
 And keepe it from the Earth
    Nor. Surely Sir,
 There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends:
 For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace
 Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon
 For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied
 To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like
 Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note,
 The force of his owne merit makes his way
 A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes
 A place next to the King
    Abur. I cannot tell
 What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye
 Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride
 Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that,
 If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard,
 Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins
 A new Hell in himselfe
    Buc. Why the Diuell,
 Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him
 (Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint
 Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File
 Of all the Gentry; for the most part such
 To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor
 He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter
 The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
 Must fetch him in, he Papers
    Abur. I do know
 Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue
 By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer
 They shall abound as formerly
    Buc. O many
 Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em
 For this great Iourney. What did this vanity
 But minister communication of
 A most poore issue
    Nor. Greeuingly I thinke,
 The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes
 The Cost that did conclude it
    Buc. Euery man,
 After the hideous storme that follow'd, was
 A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke
 Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest
 Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded
 The sodaine breach on't
    Nor. Which is budded out,
 For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd
 Our Merchants goods at Burdeux
    Abur. Is it therefore
 Th' Ambassador is silenc'd?
   Nor. Marry is't
    Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd
 At a superfluous rate
    Buc. Why all this Businesse
 Our Reuerend Cardinall carried
    Nor. Like it your Grace,
 The State takes notice of the priuate difference
 Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you
 (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
 Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade
 The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
 Together; To consider further, that
 What his high Hatred would effect, wants not
 A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature,
 That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword
 Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide
 It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend,
 Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell,
 You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock
 That I aduice your shunning.
 Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of
 the Guard,
 and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage,
 fixeth his
 eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of
   Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha?
 Where's his Examination?
   Secr. Heere so please you
    Car. Is he in person, ready?
   Secr. I, please your Grace
    Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham
 Shall lessen this bigge looke.
 Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.
   Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I
 Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best
 Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke,
 Out-worths a Nobles blood
    Nor. What are you chaff'd?
 Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely
 Which your disease requires
    Buc. I read in's looks
 Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd
 Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant
 He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King:
 Ile follow, and out-stare him
    Nor. Stay my Lord,
 And let your Reason with your Choller question
 What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles
 Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like
 A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way
 Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England
 Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe,
 As you would to your Friend
    Buc. Ile to the King,
 And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe
 This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime,
 There's difference in no persons
    Norf. Be aduis'd;
 Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot
 That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne
 By violent swiftnesse that which we run at;
 And lose by ouer-running: know you not,
 The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore,
 In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd;
 I say againe there is no English Soule
 More stronger to direct you then your selfe;
 If with the sap of reason you would quench,
 Or but allay the fire of passion
    Buck. Sir,
 I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along
 By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,
 Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
 From sincere motions, by Intelligence,
 And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when
 Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know
 To be corrupt and treasonous
    Norf. Say not treasonous
    Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong
 As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe,
 Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous
 As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe,
 As able to perform't) his minde, and place
 Infecting one another, yea reciprocally,
 Only to shew his pompe, as well in France,
 As here at home, suggests the King our Master
 To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew,
 That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse
 Did breake ith' wrenching
    Norf. Faith, and so it did
    Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall
 The Articles o'th' Combination drew
 As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified
 As he cride thus let be, to as much end,
 As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall
 Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey
 (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes,
 (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie
 To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour,
 Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt,
 (For twas indeed his colour, but he came
 To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation,
 His feares were that the Interview betwixt
 England and France, might through their amity
 Breed him some preiudice; for from this League,
 Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily
 Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa
 Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour
 Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted
 Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made
 And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd,
 That he would please to alter the Kings course,
 And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know
 (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall
 Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases,
 And for his owne aduantage
    Norf. I am sorry
 To heare this of him; and could wish he were
 Somthing mistaken in't
    Buck. No, not a sillable:
 I doe pronounce him in that very shape
 He shall appeare in proofe.
 Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three
 of the
   Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it
    Sergeant. Sir,
 My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle
 Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I
 Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name
 Of our most Soueraigne King
    Buck. Lo you my Lord,
 The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish
 Vnder deuice, and practise
    Bran. I am sorry,
 To see you tane from liberty, to looke on
 The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure
 You shall to th' Tower
    Buck. It will helpe me nothing
 To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me
 Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n
 Be done in this and all things: I obey.
 O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well
    Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King
 Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know
 How he determines further
    Abur. As the Duke said,
 The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure
 By me obey'd
    Bran. Here is a warrant from
 The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies
 Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car,
 One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour
    Buck. So, so;
 These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope
    Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux
    Buck. O Michaell Hopkins?
   Bra. He
    Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall
 Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already:
 I am the shadow of poore Buckingham,
 Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on,
 By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.
 Scena Secunda.
 Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the
 and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the
 Kings feete
 on his right side.
   King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it,
 Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th' leuell
 Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes
 To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs
 That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person,
 Ile heare him his confessions iustifie,
 And point by point the Treasons of his Maister,
 He shall againe relate.
 A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke
 Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels.
 King riseth
 from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.
   Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor
    King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit
 Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power:
 The other moity ere you aske is giuen,
 Repeat your will, and take it
    Queen. Thanke your Maiesty
 That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue
 Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor
 The dignity of your Office; is the poynt
 Of my Petition
    Kin. Lady mine proceed
    Queen. I am solicited not by a few,
 And those of true condition; That your Subiects
 Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions
 Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
 Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although
 My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches
 Most bitterly on you, as putter on
 Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister
 Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not
 Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes
 The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares
 In lowd Rebellion
    Norf. Not almost appeares,
 It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations,
 The Clothiers all not able to maintaine
 The many to them longing, haue put off
 The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who
 Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger
 And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner
 Daring th' euent too th' teeth, are all in vprore,
 And danger serues among them
    Kin. Taxation?
 Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall,
 You that are blam'd for it alike with vs,
 Know you of this Taxation?
   Card. Please you Sir,
 I know but of a single part in ought
 Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File
 Where others tell steps with me
    Queen. No, my Lord?
 You know no more then others? But you frame
 Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome
 To those which would not know them, and yet must
 Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
 (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are
 Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em,
 The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say
 They are deuis'd by you, or else you suffer
 Too hard an exclamation
    Kin. Still Exaction:
 The nature of it, in what kinde let's know,
 Is this Exaction?
   Queen. I am much too venturous
 In tempting of your patience, but am boldned
 Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe
 Comes through Commissions, which compels from each
 The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied
 Without delay; and the pretence for this
 Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths,
 Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
 Allegeance in them; their curses now
 Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe,
 This tractable obedience is a Slaue
 To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse
 Would giue it quicke consideration; for
 There is no primer basenesse
    Kin. By my life,
 This is against our pleasure
    Card. And for me,
 I haue no further gone in this, then by
 A single voice, and that not past me, but
 By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am
 Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know
 My faculties nor person, yet will be
 The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say,
 'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake
 That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint
 Our necessary actions, in the feare
 To cope malicious Censurers, which euer,
 As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow
 That is new trim'd; but benefit no further
 Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best,
 By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is
 Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft
 Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp
 For our best Act: if we shall stand still,
 In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at,
 We should take roote here, where we sit;
 Or sit State-Statues onely
    Kin. Things done well,
 And with a care, exempt themselues from feare:
 Things done without example, in their issue
 Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President
 Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any.
 We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes,
 And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each?
 A trembling Contribution; why we take
 From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber:
 And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt,
 The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County
 Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with
 Free pardon to each man that has deny'de
 The force of this Commission: pray looke too't;
 I put it to your care
    Card. A word with you.
 Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire,
 Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons
 Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd,
 That through our Intercession, this Reuokement
 And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you
 Further in the proceeding.
 Exit Secret[ary].
 Enter Surueyor.
   Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham
 Is run in your displeasure
    Kin. It grieues many:
 The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker,
 To Nature none more bound; his trayning such,
 That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers,
 And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see,
 When these so Noble benefits shall proue
 Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt,
 They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly
 Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat,
 Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we
 Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde
 His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady)
 Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces
 That once were his, and is become as blacke,
 As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare
 (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him
 Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount
 The fore-recited practises, whereof
 We cannot feele too little, heare too much
    Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you
 Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected
 Out of the Duke of Buckingham
    Kin. Speake freely
    Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day
 It would infect his Speech: That if the King
 Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so
 To make the Scepter his. These very words
 I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law,
 Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd
 Reuenge vpon the Cardinall
    Card. Please your Highnesse note
 This dangerous conception in this point,
 Not frended by his wish to your High person;
 His will is most malignant, and it stretches
 Beyond you to your friends
    Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall,
 Deliuer all with Charity
    Kin. Speake on;
 How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne
 Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him,
 At any time speake ought?
   Sur. He was brought to this,
 By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton
    Kin. What was that Henton?
   Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer,
 His Confessor, who fed him euery minute
 With words of Soueraignty
    Kin. How know'st thou this?
   Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France,
 The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish
 Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand
 What was the speech among the Londoners,
 Concerning the French Iourney. I replide,
 Men feare the French would proue perfidious
 To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke
 Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted
 'Twould proue the verity of certaine words
 Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he,
 Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
 Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre
 To heare from him a matter of some moment:
 Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale,
 He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke
 My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but
 To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence,
 This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres
 (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue
 To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke
 Shall gouerne England
    Queen. If I know you well,
 You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office
 On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed
 You charge not in your spleene a Noble person,
 And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed;
 Yes, heartily beseech you
    Kin. Let him on: Goe forward
    Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth.
 I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Diuels illusions
 The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous
 For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill
 It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd
 It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush,
 It can do me no damage; adding further,
 That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild,
 The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads
 Should haue gone off
    Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha,
 There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further?
   Sur. I can my Liedge
    Kin. Proceed
    Sur. Being at Greenwich,
 After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke
 About Sir William Blumer
    Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant,
 The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence?
   Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed,
 As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid
 The Part my Father meant to act vpon
 Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury,
 Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted,
 (As he made semblance of his duty) would
 Haue put his knife into him
    Kin. A Gyant Traytor
    Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome,
 And this man out of Prison
    Queen. God mend all
    Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st?
   Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife
 He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
 Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
 He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor
 Was, were he euill vs'd, he would outgoe
 His Father, by as much as a performance
 Do's an irresolute purpose
    Kin. There's his period,
 To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd,
 Call him to present tryall: if he may
 Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none,
 Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night
 Hee's Traytor to th' height.
 Scaena Tertia.
   L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle
 Men into such strange mysteries?
   L.San. New customes,
 Though they be neuer so ridiculous,
 (Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd
    L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English
 Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely
 A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones)
 For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly
 Their very noses had been Councellours
 To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so
    L.San. They haue all new legs,
 And lame ones; one would take it,
 That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen
 A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em
    L.Ch. Death my Lord,
 Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't,
 That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now?
 What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?
 Enter Sir Thomas Louell.
   Louell. Faith my Lord,
 I heare of none but the new Proclamation,
 That's clapt vpon the Court Gate
    L.Cham. What is't for?
   Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants,
 That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors
    L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;
 Now I would pray our Monsieurs
 To thinke an English Courtier may be wise,
 And neuer see the Louure
    Lou. They must either
 (For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants
 Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France,
 With all their honourable points of ignorance
 Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes,
 Abusing better men then they can be
 Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane
 The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings,
 Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell;
 And vnderstand againe like honest men,
 Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it,
 They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away
 The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at
    L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases
 Are growne so catching
    L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies
 Will haue of these trim vanities?
   Louell. I marry,
 There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons
 Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies.
 A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow
    L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em,
 I am glad they are going,
 For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now
 An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten
 A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song,
 And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady
 Held currant Musicke too
    L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands,
 Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?
   L.San. No my Lord,
 Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe
    L.Cham. Sir Thomas,
 Whither were you a going?
   Lou. To the Cardinals;
 Your Lordship is a guest too
    L.Cham. O, 'tis true;
 This night he makes a Supper, and a great one,
 To many Lords and Ladies; there will be
 The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you
    Lou. That Churchman
 Beares a bounteous minde indeed,
 A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs,
 His dewes fall euery where
    L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;
 He had a blacke mouth that said other of him
    L.San. He may my Lord,
 Ha's wherewithall in him;
 Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine,
 Men of his way, should be most liberall,
 They are set heere for examples
    L.Cham. True, they are so;
 But few now giue so great ones:
 My Barge stayes;
 Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas,
 We shall be late else, which I would not be,
 For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford
 This night to be Comptrollers
    L.San. I am your Lordships.
 Scena Quarta.
 Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer
 Table for
 the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, &
 as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry
   S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes,
 A generall welcome from his Grace
 Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates
 To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes
 In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her
 One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry:
 As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome,
 Can make good people.
 Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.
 O my Lord, y'are tardy;
 The very thought of this faire Company,
 Clapt wings to me
    Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford
    San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall
 But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these
 Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested,
 I thinke would better please 'em: by my life,
 They are a sweet society of faire ones
    Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor,
 To one or two of these
    San. I would I were,
 They should finde easie pennance
    Lou. Faith how easie?
   San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it
    Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry
 Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this:
 His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze,
 Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather:
 My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking:
 Pray sit betweene these Ladies
    San. By my faith,
 And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies,
 If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me:
 I had it from my Father
    An.Bul. Was he mad Sir?
   San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too;
 But he would bite none, iust as I doe now,
 He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath
    Cham. Well said my Lord:
 So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen,
 The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies
 Passe away frowning
    San. For my little Cure,
 Let me alone.
 Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.
   Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady
 Or Gentleman that is not freely merry
 Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome,
 And to you all good health
    San. Your Grace is Noble,
 Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes,
 And saue me so much talking
    Card. My Lord Sands,
 I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours:
 Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen,
 Whose fault is this?
   San. The red wine first must rise
 In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em,
 Talke vs to silence
    An.B. You are a merry Gamster
 My Lord Sands
    San. Yes, if I make my play:
 Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam:
 For tis to such a thing
    An.B. You cannot shew me.
 Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.
   San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon
    Card. What's that?
   Cham. Looke out there, some of ye
    Card. What warlike voyce,
 And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not;
 By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd.
 Enter a Seruant.
   Cham. How now, what is't?
   Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers,
 For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed,
 And hither make, as great Embassadors
 From forraigne Princes
    Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,
 Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue
 And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em
 Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty
 Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.
 All rise, and Tables remou'd.
 You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it.
 A good digestion to you all; and once more
 I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.
 Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like
 vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the
 and gracefully salute him.
 A noble Company: what are their pleasures?
   Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid
 To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame
 Of this so Noble and so faire assembly,
 This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse,
 (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty)
 But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct
 Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat
 An houre of Reuels with 'em
    Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,
 They haue done my poore house grace:
 For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes,
 And pray 'em take their pleasures.
 Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.
   King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty,
 Till now I neuer knew thee.
 Musicke, Dance.
   Card. My Lord
    Cham. Your Grace
    Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me:
 There should be one amongst 'em by his person
 More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom
 (If I but knew him) with my loue and duty
 I would surrender it.
   Cham. I will my Lord
    Card. What say they?
   Cham. Such a one, they all confesse
 There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace
 Find out, and he will take it
    Card. Let me see then,
 By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make
 My royall choyce
    Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall,
 You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord:
 You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall,
 I should iudge now vnhappily
    Card. I am glad
 Your Grace is growne so pleasant
    Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,
 Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that?
   Cham. An't please your Grace,
 Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford,
 One of her Highnesse women
    Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart,
 I were vnmannerly to take you out,
 And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen,
 Let it goe round
    Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready
 I'th' Priuy Chamber?
   Lou. Yes, my Lord
    Card. Your Grace
 I feare, with dancing is a little heated
    Kin. I feare too much
    Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord,
 In the next Chamber
    Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner,
 I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry,
 Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths,
 To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure
 To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame
 Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.
 Exeunt. with Trumpets.
 Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
 Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.
   1. Whether away so fast?
   2. O, God saue ye:
 Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become
 Of the great Duke of Buckingham
    1. Ile saue you
 That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony
 Of bringing backe the Prisoner
    2. Were you there ?
   1. Yes indeed was I
    2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd
    1. You may guesse quickly what
    2. Is he found guilty?
   1. Yes truely is he,
 And condemn'd vpon't
    2. I am sorry fort
    1. So are a number more
    2. But pray how past it?
   1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke
 Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations
 He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged
 Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law.
 The Kings Atturney on the contrary,
 Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions
 Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd
 To him brought viua voce to his face;
 At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor
 Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car,
 Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke,
 Hopkins, that made this mischiefe
    2. That was hee
 That fed him with his Prophecies
    1. The same,
 All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine
 Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not;
 And so his Peeres vpon this euidence,
 Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much
 He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all
 Was either pittied in him, or forgotten
    2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe?
   1. When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare
 His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd
 With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly,
 And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty:
 But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly,
 In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience
    2. I doe not thinke he feares death
    1. Sure he does not,
 He neuer was so womanish, the cause
 He may a little grieue at
    2. Certainly,
 The Cardinall is the end of this
    1. Tis likely,
 By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure;
 Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd
 Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too,
 Least he should helpe his Father
    2. That tricke of State
 Was a deepe enuious one,
   1. At his returne,
 No doubt he will requite it; this is noted
 (And generally) who euer the King fauours,
 The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment,
 And farre enough from Court too
    2. All the Commons
 Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience
 Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much
 They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham,
 The Mirror of all courtesie.
 Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him,
 the Axe with
 the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with
 Sir Thomas
 Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people,
   1. Stay there Sir,
 And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of
    2. Let's stand close and behold him
    Buck. All good people,
 You that thus farre haue come to pitty me;
 Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me.
 I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement,
 And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes,
 And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me,
 Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull.
 The Law I beare no mallice for my death,
 T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice:
 But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians:
 (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em;
 Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe;
 Nor build their euils on the graues of great men;
 For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em.
 For further life in this world I ne're hope,
 Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies
 More then I dare make faults.
 You few that lou'd me,
 And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham,
 His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue
 Is only bitter to him, only dying:
 Goe with me like good Angels to my end,
 And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me,
 Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice,
 And lift my Soule to Heauen.
 Lead on a Gods name
    Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity
 If euer any malice in your heart
 Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly
    Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you
 As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all.
 There cannot be those numberlesse offences
 Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with:
 No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue.
 Commend mee to his Grace:
 And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him,
 You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers
 Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake,
 Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue
 Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares;
 Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be;
 And when old Time shall lead him to his end,
 Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument
    Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace;
 Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
 Who vndertakes you to your end
    Vaux. Prepare there,
 The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready;
 And fit it with such furniture as suites
 The Greatnesse of his Person
    Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,
 Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me.
 When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable,
 And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun;
 Yet I am richer then my base Accusers,
 That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it;
 And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't.
 My noble Father Henry of Buckingham,
 Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard,
 Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister,
 Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid,
 And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him.
 Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying
 My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince
 Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines
 Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne,
 Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all
 That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken
 For euer from the World. I had my Tryall,
 And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me
 A little happier then my wretched Father:
 Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both
 Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most:
 A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice.
 Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me,
 This from a dying man receiue as certaine:
 Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels,
 Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends,
 And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue
 The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
 Like water from ye, neuer found againe
 But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people
 Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre
 Of my long weary life is come vpon me:
 Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad,
 Speake how I fell.
 I haue done; and God forgiue me.
 Exeunt. Duke and Traine.
   1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals
 I feare, too many curses on their heads
 That were the Authors
    2. If the Duke be guiltlesse,
 'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling
 Of an ensuing euill, if it fall,
 Greater then this
    1. Good Angels keepe it from vs:
 What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?
   2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require
 A strong faith to conceale it
    1. Let me haue it:
 I doe not talke much
    2. I am confident;
 You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare
 A buzzing of a Separation
 Betweene the King and Katherine?
   1. Yes, but it held not;
 For when the King once heard it, out of anger
 He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight
 To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues
 That durst disperse it
    2. But that slander Sir,
 Is found a truth now: for it growes agen
 Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine
 The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall,
 Or some about him neere, haue out of malice
 To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple
 That will vndoe her: To confirme this too,
 Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately,
 As all thinke for this busines
    1. Tis the Cardinall;
 And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour,
 For not bestowing on him at his asking,
 The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd
    2. I thinke
 You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell,
 That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall
 Will haue his will, and she must fall
    1. 'Tis wofull.
 Wee are too open heere to argue this:
 Let's thinke in priuate more.
 Scena Secunda.
 Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.
 My Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the
 care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd.
 They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the
 North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man
 of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke
 'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd before
 a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes
 I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee
 will haue all I thinke.
 Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and
   Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine
    Cham. Good day to both your Graces
    Suff. How is the King imployd?
   Cham. I left him priuate,
 Full of sad thoughts and troubles
    Norf. What's the cause?
   Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife
 Ha's crept too neere his Conscience
    Suff. No, his Conscience
 Ha's crept too neere another Ladie
    Norf. Tis so;
 This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall,
 That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune,
 Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day
    Suff. Pray God he doe,
 Hee'l neuer know himselfe else
    Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse,
 And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League
 Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew)
 He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters
 Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience,
 Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage.
 And out of all these, to restore the King,
 He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her
 That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares
 About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre;
 Of her that loues him with that excellence,
 That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her,
 That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls
 Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?
   Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true
 These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em,
 And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare
 Looke into these affaires, see this maine end,
 The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open
 The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon
 This bold bad man
    Suff. And free vs from his slauery
    Norf. We had need pray,
 And heartily, for our deliuerance;
 Or this imperious man will worke vs all
 From Princes into Pages: all mens honours
 Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd
 Into what pitch he please
    Suff. For me, my Lords,
 I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede:
 As I am made without him, so Ile stand,
 If the King please: his Curses and his blessings
 Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in.
 I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him
 To him that made him proud; the Pope
    Norf. Let's in;
 And with some other busines, put the King
 From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him:
 My Lord, youle beare vs company?
   Cham. Excuse me,
 The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides
 You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him:
 Health to your Lordships
    Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.
 Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits
   Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted
    Kin. Who's there? Ha?
   Norff. Pray God he be not angry
    Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues
 Into my priuate Meditations?
 Who am I? Ha?
   Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences
 Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way,
 Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come
 To know your Royall pleasure
    Kin. Ye are too bold:
 Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:
 Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?
 Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.
 Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey,
 The quiet of my wounded Conscience;
 Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome
 Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,
 Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,
 I be not found a Talker
    Wol. Sir, you cannot;
 I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre
 Of priuate conference
    Kin. We are busie; goe
    Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him?
   Suff. Not to speake of:
 I would not be so sicke though for his place:
 But this cannot continue
    Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him
    Suff. I another.
 Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.
   Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome
 Aboue all Princes, in committing freely
 Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome:
 Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you?
 The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her,
 Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse,
 The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes,
 (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes)
 Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement)
 Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent
 One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
 This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius,
 Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse
    Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome,
 And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues,
 They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for
    Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues,
 You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand
 I tender my Commission; by whose vertue,
 The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord
 Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant,
 In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse
    Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted
 Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
   Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her
 So deare in heart, not to deny her that
 A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law;
 Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her
    Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour
 To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall,
 Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary.
 I find him a fit fellow.
 Enter Gardiner.
   Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;
 You are the Kings now
    Gard. But to be commanded
 For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me
    Kin. Come hither Gardiner.
 Walkes and whispers.
   Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace
 In this mans place before him?
   Wol. Yes, he was
    Camp. Was he not held a learned man?
   Wol. Yes surely
    Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
 Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall
    Wol. How? of me?
   Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him;
 And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous)
 Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him,
 That he ran mad, and dide
    Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him:
 That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers,
 There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole;
 For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow,
 If I command him followes my appointment,
 I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother,
 We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons
    Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.
 Exit Gardiner.
 The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of
 For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers:
 There ye shall meete about this waighty busines.
 My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord,
 Would it not grieue an able man to leaue
 So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience;
 O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
 Scena Tertia.
 Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
   An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.
 His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she
 So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer
 Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
 She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after
 So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,
 Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which
 To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then
 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe.
 To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty
 Would moue a Monster
    Old La. Hearts of most hard temper
 Melt and lament for her
    An. Oh Gods will, much better
 She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,
 Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce
 It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
 As soule and bodies seuering
    Old L. Alas poore Lady,
 Shee's a stranger now againe
    An. So much the more
 Must pitty drop vpon her; verily
 I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,
 And range with humble liuers in Content,
 Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe,
 And weare a golden sorrow
    Old L. Our content
 Is our best hauing
    Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
 I would not be a Queene
    Old.L. Beshrew me, I would,
 And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you
 For all this spice of your Hipocrisie:
 You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,
 Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet
 Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;
 Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts
 (Sauing your mincing) the capacity
 Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue,
 If you might please to stretch it
    Anne. Nay, good troth
    Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?
   Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen
    Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me
 Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
 What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs
 To beare that load of Title?
   An. No in truth
    Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
 I would not be a young Count in your way,
 For more then blushing comes to: If your backe
 Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake
 Euer to get a Boy
    An. How you doe talke;
 I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,
 For all the world
    Old.L. In faith, for little England
 You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe
 Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd
 No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?
 Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
   L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know
 The secret of your conference?
   An. My good Lord,
 Not your demand; it values not your asking:
 Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying
    Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming
 The action of good women, there is hope
 All will be well
    An. Now I pray God, Amen
    Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings
 Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady
 Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes
 Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty
 Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and
 Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing,
 Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title,
 A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support,
 Out of his Grace, he addes
    An. I doe not know
 What kinde of my obedience, I should tender;
 More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers
 Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes
 More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes
 Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship,
 Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience,
 As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse;
 Whose health and Royalty I pray for
    Cham. Lady;
 I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit
 The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,
 Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,
 That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet
 But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,
 To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King,
 And say I spoke with you.
 Exit Lord Chamberlaine.
   An. My honour'd Lord
    Old.L. Why this it is: See, see,
 I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court
 (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could
 Come pat betwixt too early, and too late
 For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)
 A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon
 This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,
 Before you open it
    An. This is strange to me
    Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:
 There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)
 That would not be a Queene, that would she not
 For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?
   An. Come you are pleasant
    Old.L. With your Theame, I could
 O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?
 A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?
 No other obligation? by my Life,
 That promises mo thousands: Honours traine
 Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time
 I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,
 Are you not stronger then you were?
   An. Good Lady,
 Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,
 And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being
 If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me
 To thinke what followes.
 The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull
 In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer,
 What heere y'haue heard to her
    Old L. What doe you thinke me -
 Scena Quarta.
 Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short
 wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them,
 Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne,
 Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small
 followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and
 Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse:
 Then a
 Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at
 Armes, bearing
 a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer
 Pillers: After
 them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the
 Sword and
 Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two
 sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance
 from the
 King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in
 manner of a
 Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the
 Bishops. The
 rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.
   Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read,
 Let silence be commanded
    King. What's the need?
 It hath already publiquely bene read,
 And on all sides th' Authority allow'd,
 You may then spare that time
    Car. Bee't so, proceed
    Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court
    Crier. Henry King of England, &c
    King. Heere
    Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England,
 Come into the Court
    Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.
 The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about
 Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.
 Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice,
 And to bestow your pitty on me; for
 I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger,
 Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere
 No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance
 Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir:
 In what haue I offended you? What cause
 Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure,
 That thus you should proceede to put me off,
 And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse,
 I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife,
 At all times to your will conformable:
 Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike,
 Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry,
 As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre
 I euer contradicted your Desire?
 Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends
 Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew
 He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,
 That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I
 Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice
 He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde,
 That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience,
 Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest
 With many Children by you. If in the course
 And processe of this time, you can report,
 And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught;
 My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie
 Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name
 Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt
 Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp
 To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir,
 The King your Father, was reputed for
 A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent
 And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand
 My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one
 The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many
 A yeare before. It is not to be question'd,
 That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them
 Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse,
 Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
 Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may
 Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile
 I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God
 Your pleasure be fulfill'd
    Wol. You haue heere Lady,
 (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men
 Of singular Integrity, and Learning;
 Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled
 To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse,
 That longer you desire the Court, as well
 For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
 What is vnsetled in the King
    Camp. His Grace
 Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam,
 It's fit this Royall Session do proceed,
 And that (without delay) their Arguments
 Be now produc'd, and heard
    Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake
    Wol. Your pleasure, Madam
    Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that
 We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine
 The daughter of a King, my drops of teares,
 Ile turne to sparkes of fire
    Wol. Be patient yet
    Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before,
 Or God will punish me. I do beleeue
 (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that
 You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge,
 You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you
 Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;
 (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe,
 I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule
 Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more
 I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not
 At all a Friend to truth
    Wol. I do professe
 You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet
 Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects
 Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome,
 Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong
 I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice
 For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,
 Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted
 By a Commission from the Consistorie,
 Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me,
 That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it,
 The King is present: If it be knowne to him,
 That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound,
 And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much
 As you haue done my Truth. If he know
 That I am free of your Report, he knowes
 I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
 It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to
 Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before
 His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech
 You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking,
 And to say so no more
    Queen. My Lord, My Lord,
 I am a simple woman, much too weake
 T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd
 You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming,
 With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart
 Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride.
 You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors,
 Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted
 Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
 (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please
 Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you,
 You tender more your persons Honor, then
 Your high profession Spirituall. That agen
 I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere
 Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,
 To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse,
 And to be iudg'd by him.
 She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.
   Camp. The Queene is obstinate,
 Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and
 Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well.
 Shee's going away
    Kin. Call her againe
    Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court
    Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe
    Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way,
 When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,
 They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on;
 I will not tarry: no, nor euer more
 Vpon this businesse my appearance make,
 In any of their Courts.
 Exit Queene, and her Attendants.
   Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,
 That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's
 A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted,
 For speaking false in that; thou art alone
 (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse,
 Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment,
 Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
 Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out)
 The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne;
 And like her true Nobility, she ha's
 Carried her selfe towards me
    Wol. Most gracious Sir,
 In humblest manner I require your Highnes,
 That it shall please you to declare in hearing
 Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,
 There must I be vnloos'd, although not there
 At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I
 Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or
 Laid any scruple in your way, which might
 Induce you to the question on't: or euer
 Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such
 A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might
 Be to the preiudice of her present State,
 Or touch of her good Person?
   Kin. My Lord Cardinall,
 I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour,
 I free you from't: You are not to be taught
 That you haue many enemies, that know not
 Why they are so; but like to Village Curres,
 Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these
 The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd:
 But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer
 Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd
 It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft
 The passages made toward it; on my Honour,
 I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point;
 And thus farre cleare him.
 Now, what mou'd me too't,
 I will be bold with time and your attention:
 Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't:
 My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes,
 Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd
 By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador,
 Who had beene hither sent on the debating
 And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and
 Our Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines,
 Ere a determinate resolution, hee
 (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite,
 Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise,
 Whether our Daughter were legitimate,
 Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager,
 Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke
 The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me;
 Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
 The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way,
 That many maz'd considerings, did throng
 And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought
 I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had
 Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
 If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should
 Doe no more Offices of life too't; then
 The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue,
 Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after
 This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought,
 This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome
 (Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not
 Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that
 I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in
 By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me
 Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
 The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere
 Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
 Now present heere together: that's to say,
 I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which
 I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well,
 By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land,
 And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate,
 With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember
 How vnder my oppression I did reeke
 When I first mou'd you
    B.Lin. Very well my Liedge
    Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say
 How farre you satisfide me
    Lin. So please your Highnes,
 The question did at first so stagger me,
 Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,
 And consequence of dread, that I committed
 The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt,
 And did entreate your Highnes to this course,
 Which you are running heere
    Kin. I then mou'd you,
 My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue
 To make this present Summons vnsolicited.
 I left no Reuerend Person in this Court;
 But by particular consent proceeded
 Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on,
 For no dislike i'th' world against the person
 Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points
 Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward:
 Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life
 And Kingly Dignity, we are contented
 To weare our mortall State to come, with her,
 (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature
 That's Parragon'd o'th' World
    Camp. So please your Highnes,
 The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse,
 That we adiourne this Court till further day;
 Meane while, must be an earnest motion
 Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale
 She intends vnto his Holinesse
    Kin. I may perceiue
 These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre
 This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome.
 My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer,
 Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know,
 My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court;
 I say, set on.
 Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.
 Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
 Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.
   Queen. Take thy Lute wench,
 My Soule growes sad with troubles,
 Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.
 Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,
 And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
 Bow themselues when he did sing.
 To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers
 Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers,
 There had made a lasting Spring.
 Euery thing that heard him play,
 Euen the Billowes of the Sea,
 Hung their heads, & then lay by.
 In sweet Musicke is such Art,
 Killing care, & griefe of heart,
 Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.
 Enter a Gentleman.
   Queen. How now?
   Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals
 Wait in the presence
    Queen. Would they speake with me?
   Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam
    Queen. Pray their Graces
 To come neere: what can be their busines
 With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour?
 I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't,
 They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous:
 But all Hoods, make not Monkes.
 Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.
   Wols. Peace to your Highnesse
    Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife,
 (I would be all) against the worst may happen:
 What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords?
   Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw
 Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you
 The full cause of our comming
    Queen. Speake it heere.
 There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience
 Deserues a Corner: would all other Women
 Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe.
 My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy
 Aboue a number) if my actions
 Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em,
 Enuy and base opinion set against 'em,
 I know my life so euen. If your busines
 Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;
 Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing
    Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima
    Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin;
 I am not such a Truant since my comming,
 As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in:
 A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious:
 Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you,
 If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake;
 Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall,
 The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed,
 May be absolu'd in English
    Card. Noble Lady,
 I am sorry my integrity should breed,
 (And seruice to his Maiesty and you)
 So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant;
 We come not by the way of Accusation,
 To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses;
 Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;
 You haue too much good Lady: But to know
 How you stand minded in the waighty difference
 Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer
 (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions,
 And comforts to our cause
    Camp. Most honour'd Madam,
 My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature,
 Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace,
 Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure
 Both of his truth and him (which was too farre)
 Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace,
 His Seruice, and his Counsell
    Queen. To betray me.
 My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills,
 Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so)
 But how to make ye sodainly an Answere
 In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour,
 (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit;
 And to such men of grauity and learning;
 In truth I know not. I was set at worke,
 Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking
 Either for such men, or such businesse;
 For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele
 The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces
 Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause:
 Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse
    Wol. Madam,
 You wrong the Kings loue with these feares,
 Your hopes and friends are infinite
    Queen. In England,
 But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,
 That any English man dare giue me Councell?
 Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure,
 (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest)
 And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends,
 They that must weigh out my afflictions,
 They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere,
 They are (as all my other comforts) far hence
 In mine owne Countrey Lords
    Camp. I would your Grace
 Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell
    Queen. How Sir?
   Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection,
 Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much,
 Both for your Honour better, and your Cause:
 For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye,
 You'l part away disgrac'd
    Wol. He tels you rightly
    Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine:
 Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye.
 Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge,
 That no King can corrupt
    Camp. Your rage mistakes vs
    Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye,
 Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues:
 But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye:
 Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort?
 The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady?
 A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd?
 I will not wish ye halfe my miseries,
 I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye;
 Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once
 The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye
    Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction,
 You turne the good we offer, into enuy
    Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye,
 And all such false Professors. Would you haue me
 (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty,
 If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits)
 Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me?
 Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already,
 His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords,
 And all the Fellowship I hold now with him
 Is onely my Obedience. What can happen
 To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies
 Make me a Curse, like this
    Camp. Your feares are worse
    Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe,
 Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one?
 A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory)
 Neuer yet branded with Suspition?
 Haue I, with all my full Affections
 Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him?
 Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him?
 Almost forgot my Prayres to content him?
 And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords.
 Bring me a constant woman to her Husband,
 One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure;
 And to that Woman (when she has done most)
 Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience
    Car. Madam, you wander from the good
 We ayme at
    Qu. My Lord,
 I dare not make my selfe so guiltie,
 To giue vp willingly that Noble Title
 Your Master wed me to: nothing but death
 Shall e're diuorce my Dignities
    Car. Pray heare me
    Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth,
 Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it:
 Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts.
 What will become of me now, wretched Lady?
 I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing.
 Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes?
 Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty,
 No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me?
 Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly
 That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd,
 Ile hang my head, and perish
    Car. If your Grace
 Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest,
 Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady)
 Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places,
 The way of our Profession is against it;
 We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em.
 For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do,
 How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly
 Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage.
 The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience,
 So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits,
 They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes.
 I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper,
 A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs,
 Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants
    Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so:
 You wrong your Vertues
 With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit
 As yours was, put into you, euer casts
 Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you,
 Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please
 To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready
 To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice
    Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords:
 And pray forgiue me;
 If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly,
 You know I am a Woman, lacking wit
 To make a seemely answer to such persons.
 Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie,
 He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers
 While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers,
 Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges
 That little thought when she set footing heere,
 She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.
 Scena Secunda.
 Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and
   Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints,
 And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall
 Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit
 The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
 But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces,
 With these you beare alreadie
    Sur. I am ioyfull
 To meete the least occasion, that may giue me
 Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke,
 To be reueng'd on him
    Suf. Which of the Peeres
 Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
 Strangely neglected? When did he regard
 The stampe of Noblenesse in any person
 Out of himselfe?
   Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures:
 What he deserues of you and me, I know:
 What we can do to him (though now the time
 Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot
 Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt
 Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft
 Ouer the King in's Tongue
    Nor. O feare him not,
 His spell in that is out: the King hath found
 Matter against him, that for euer marres
 The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled
 (Not to come off) in his displeasure
    Sur. Sir,
 I should be glad to heare such Newes as this
 Once euery houre
    Nor. Beleeue it, this is true.
 In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings
 Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares,
 As I would wish mine Enemy
    Sur. How came
 His practises to light?
   Suf. Most strangely
    Sur. O how? how?
   Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried,
 And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read
 How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse
 To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if
 It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue
 My King is tangled in affection, to
 A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen
    Sur. Ha's the King this?
   Suf. Beleeue it
    Sur. Will this worke?
   Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts
 And hedges his owne way. But in this point
 All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke
 After his Patients death; the King already
 Hath married the faire Lady
    Sur. Would he had
    Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord,
 For I professe you haue it
    Sur. Now all my ioy
 Trace the Coniunction
    Suf. My Amen too't
    Nor. All mens
    Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation:
 Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left
 To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords
 She is a gallant Creature, and compleate
 In minde and feature. I perswade 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 Cardinals?
 The Lord forbid
    Nor. Marry Amen
    Suf. No, no:
 There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose,
 Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius,
 Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue,
 Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and
 Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall,
 To second all his plot. I do assure you,
 The King cry'de Ha, at this
    Cham. Now God incense him,
 And let him cry Ha, lowder
    Norf. But my Lord
 When returnes Cranmer?
   Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which
 Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce,
 Together with all famous Colledges
 Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue)
 His second Marriage shall be publishd, and
 Her Coronation. Katherine no more
 Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager,
 And Widdow to Prince Arthur
    Nor. This same Cranmer's
 A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine
 In the Kings businesse
    Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him
 For it, an Arch-byshop
    Nor. So I heare
    Suf. 'Tis so.
 Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
 The Cardinall
    Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody
    Car. The Packet Cromwell,
 Gau't you the King?
   Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber
    Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper?
   Crom. Presently
 He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd,
 He did it with a Serious minde: a heede
 Was in his countenance. You he bad
 Attend him heere this Morning
    Card. Is he ready to come abroad?
   Crom. I thinke by this he is
    Card. Leaue me a while.
 Exit Cromwell.
 It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson,
 The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her.
 Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him,
 There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen?
 No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish
 To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke?
   Nor. He's discontented
    Suf. Maybe he heares the King
 Does whet his Anger to him
    Sur. Sharpe enough,
 Lord for thy Iustice
    Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman?
 A Knights Daughter
 To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene?
 This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it,
 Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous
 And well deseruing? yet I know her for
 A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to
 Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of
 Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp
 An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one
 Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King,
 And is his Oracle
    Nor. He is vex'd at something.
 Enter King, reading of a Scedule.
   Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string,
 The Master-cord on's heart
    Suf. The King, the King
    King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
 To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre
 Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift
 Does he rake this together? Now my Lords,
 Saw you the Cardinall?
   Nor. My Lord, we haue
 Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion
 Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts,
 Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground,
 Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight
 Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe,
 Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts
 His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures
 We haue seene him set himselfe
    King. It may well be,
 There is a mutiny in's minde. 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 vnwittingly)
 Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing
 The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure,
 Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which
 I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes
 Possession of a Subiect
    Nor. It's Heauens will,
 Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,
 To blesse your eye withall
    King. If we did thinke
 His Contemplation were aboue the earth,
 And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still
 Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid
 His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth
 His serious considering.
 King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.
   Car. Heauen forgiue me,
 Euer God blesse your Highnesse
    King. Good my Lord,
 You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory
 Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which
 You were now running o're: you haue scarse time
 To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span
 To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that
 I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad
 To haue you therein my Companion
    Car. Sir,
 For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time
 To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which
 I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require
 Her times of preseruation, which perforce
 I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall,
 Must giue my tendance to
    King. You haue said well
    Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together,
 (As I will lend you cause) my doing well,
 With my well saying
    King. 'Tis well said agen,
 And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well,
 And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you,
 He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne
 His word vpon you. Since I had my Office,
 I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone
 Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home,
 But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow
 My Bounties vpon you
    Car. What should this meane?
   Sur. The Lord increase this businesse
    King. Haue I not made you
 The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me,
 If what I now pronounce, you haue found true:
 And if you may confesse it, say withall
 If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?
   Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces
 Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could
 My studied purposes requite, which went
 Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors,
 Haue euer come too short of my Desires,
 Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends
 Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed
 To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and
 The profit of the State. For your great Graces
 Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I
 Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes,
 My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie
 Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing,
 Till death (that Winter) kill it
    King. Fairely answer'd:
 A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is
 Therein illustrated, the Honor of it
 Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary
 The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume,
 That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you,
 My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more
 On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart,
 Your Braine, and euery Function of your power,
 Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
 As 'twer in Loues particular, be more
 To me your Friend, then any
    Car. I do professe,
 That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd
 More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be
 (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you,
 And throw it from their Soule, though perils did
 Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and
 Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty,
 As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood,
 Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake,
 And stand vnshaken yours
    King. 'Tis Nobly spoken:
 Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest,
 For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this,
 And after this, and then to Breakfast with
 What appetite you haue.
 Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after
 smiling, and whispering.
   Car. What should this meane?
 What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it?
 He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine
 Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon
 Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him:
 Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper:
 I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so:
 This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt
 Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together
 For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome,
 And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence!
 Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell
 Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet
 I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?
 No new deuice to beate this from his Braines?
 I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know
 A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune
 Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope?
 The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse
 I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell:
 I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse,
 And from that full Meridian of my Glory,
 I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall
 Like a bright exhalation in the Euening,
 And no man see me more.
 Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle
 of Surrey,
 and the Lord Chamberlaine.
   Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall,
 Who commands you
 To render vp the Great Seale presently
 Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe
 To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters,
 Till you heare further from his Highnesse
    Car. Stay:
 Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie
 Authority so weighty
    Suf. Who dare crosse 'em,
 Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?
   Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it,
 (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords,
 I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele
 Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy,
 How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces
 As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton
 Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine?
 Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice;
 You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt
 In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale
 You aske with such a Violence, the King
 (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me:
 Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors
 During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse,
 Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?
   Sur. The King that gaue it
    Car. It must be himselfe then
    Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest
    Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest:
 Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better
 Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so
    Sur. Thy Ambition
 (Thou Scarlet sinne) 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 haire of his. Plague of your policie,
 You sent me Deputie for Ireland,
 Farre from his succour; from the King, from all
 That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him:
 Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty,
 Absolu'd him with an Axe
    Wol. This, and all else
 This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit,
 I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law
 Found his deserts. How innocent I was
 From any priuate malice in his end,
 His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse.
 If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you,
 You haue as little Honestie, as Honor,
 That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth,
 Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master,
 Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be,
 And all that loue his follies
    Sur. By my Soule,
 Your long Coat (Priest) protects you,
 Thou should'st feele
 My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords,
 Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance?
 And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely,
 To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet,
 Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward,
 And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes
    Card. All Goodnesse
 Is poyson to thy Stomacke
    Sur. Yes, that goodnesse
 Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one,
 Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion:
 The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets
 You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse
 Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious.
 My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble,
 As you respect the common good, the State
 Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues,
 (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen)
 Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles
 Collected from his life. Ile startle you
 Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench
 Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall
    Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man,
 But that I am bound in Charitie against it
    Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand:
 But thus much, they are foule ones
    Wol. So much fairer
 And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise,
 When the King knowes my Truth
    Sur. This cannot saue you:
 I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember
 Some of these Articles, and out they shall.
 Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall,
 You'l shew a little Honestie
    Wol. Speake on Sir,
 I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush,
 It is to see a Nobleman want manners
    Sur. I had rather want those, then my head;
 Haue at you.
 First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge,
 You wrought to be a Legate, by which power
 You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops
    Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else
 To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus
 Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King
 To be your Seruant
    Suf. Then, that without the knowledge
 Either of King or Councell, when you went
 Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold
 To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale
    Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission
 To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude
 Without the Kings will, or the States allowance,
 A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara
    Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd
 Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine
    Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance,
 (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience)
 To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes
 You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing
 Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are,
 Which since they are of you, and odious,
 I will not taint my mouth with
    Cham. O my Lord,
 Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue:
 His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them
 (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him
 So little, of his great Selfe
    Sur. I forgiue him
    Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is,
 Because all those things you haue done of late
 By your power Legatine within this Kingdome,
 Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire;
 That therefore such a Writ be sued against you,
 To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,
 Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be
 Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge
    Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations
 How to liue better. For your stubborne answer
 About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,
 The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you.
 So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.
 Exeunt. all but Wolsey.
   Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.
 Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse.
 This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth
 The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes,
 And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him:
 The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost,
 And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely
 His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote,
 And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd
 Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders:
 This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,
 But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride
 At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me
 Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy
 Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me.
 Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye,
 I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched
 Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours?
 There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too,
 That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine,
 More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue;
 And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer,
 Neuer to hope againe.
 Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.
 Why how now Cromwell?
   Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir
    Car. What, amaz'd
 At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder
 A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep
 I am falne indeed
    Crom. How does your Grace
    Card. Why well:
 Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell,
 I know my selfe now, and I feele within me,
 A peace aboue all earthly Dignities,
 A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me,
 I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders
 These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken
 A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.)
 O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden
 Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen
    Crom. I am glad your Grace,
 Ha's made that right vse of it
    Card. I hope I haue:
 I am able now (me thinkes)
 (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele)
 To endure more Miseries, and greater farre
 Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer.
 What Newes abroad?
   Crom. The heauiest, and the worst,
 Is your displeasure with the King
    Card. God blesse him
    Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen
 Lord Chancellor, in your place
    Card. That's somewhat sodain.
 But he's a Learned man. May he continue
 Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice
 For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones,
 When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings,
 May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him.
 What more?
   Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
 Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury
    Card. That's Newes indeed
    Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,
 Whom the King hath in secrecie long married,
 This day was view'd in open, as his Queene,
 Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now
 Onely about her Corronation
    Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe.
 O Cromwell,
 The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories
 In that one woman, I haue lost for euer.
 No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors,
 Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted
 Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel,
 I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now
 To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King
 (That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him,
 What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee:
 Some little memory of me, will stirre him
 (I know his Noble Nature) not to let
 Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell
 Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide
 For thine owne future safety
    Crom. O my Lord,
 Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo
 So good, so Noble, and so true a Master?
 Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron,
 With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord.
 The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres
 For euer, and for euer shall be yours
    Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare
 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 farre heare me Cromwel,
 And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
 And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention
 Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee;
 Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory,
 And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor,
 Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in:
 A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it.
 Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me:
 Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition,
 By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then
 (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it?
 Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee;
 Corruption wins not more then Honesty.
 Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace
 To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not;
 Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries,
 Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell)
 Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr.
 Serue the King: And prythee leade me in:
 There take an Inuentory of all I haue,
 To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe,
 And my Integrity to Heauen, is all,
 I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel,
 Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale
 I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age
 Haue left me naked to mine Enemies
    Crom. Good Sir, haue patience
    Card. So I haue. Farewell
 The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.
 Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
 Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.
   1 Y'are well met once againe
    2 So are you
    1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold
 The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation
    2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter,
 The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall
    1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow,
 This generall ioy
    2 'Tis well: The Citizens
 I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds,
 As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward
 In Celebration of this day with Shewes,
 Pageants, and Sights of Honor
    1 Neuer greater,
 Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir
    2 May I be bold to aske what that containes,
 That Paper in your hand
    1 Yes, 'tis the List
 Of those that claime their Offices this day,
 By custome of the Coronation.
 The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes
 To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke,
 He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest
    1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs,
 I should haue beene beholding to your Paper:
 But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine
 The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?
   1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
 Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
 Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order,
 Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off
 From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which
 She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:
 And to be short, for not Appearance, and
 The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent
 Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd,
 And the late Marriage made of none effect:
 Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton,
 Where she remaines now sicke
    2 Alas good Lady.
 The Trumpets sound: Stand close,
 The Queene is comming.
 Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of
 Trumpets. 2
 Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before
 him. 4
 Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the
 Mace. Then
 Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt
 Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his
 head, a
 Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the
 Rod of
 Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of
 Esses. 7
 Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head,
 a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of
 Norfolke, with
 the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8
 Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in
 Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each
 side her,
 the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of
 in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes
 Traine. 10
 Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold,
 Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State,
 then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.
   2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know:
 Who's that that beares the Scepter?
   1 Marquesse Dorset,
 And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod
    2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee
 The Duke of Suffolke
    1 'Tis the same: high Steward
    2 And that my Lord of Norfolke?
   1 Yes
    2 Heauen blesse thee,
 Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on.
 Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell;
 Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes,
 And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady,
 I cannot blame his Conscience
    1 They that beare
 The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons
 Of the Cinque-Ports
    2 Those men are happy,
 And so are all, are neere her.
 I take it, she that carries vp the Traine,
 Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke
    1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses
    2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed,
 And sometimes falling ones
    2 No more of that.
 Enter a third Gentleman.
   1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?
   3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger
 Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
 With the meere ranknesse of their ioy
    2 You saw the Ceremony?
   3 That I did
    1 How was it?
   3 Well worth the seeing
    2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?
   3 As well as I am able. The rich streame
 Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene
 To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off
 A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe
 To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so,
 In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely
 The Beauty of her Person to the People.
 Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman
 That euer lay by man: which when the people
 Had the full view of, such a noyse arose,
 As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest,
 As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,
 (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces
 Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy
 I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women,
 That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes
 In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease
 And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing
 Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen
 So strangely in one peece
    2 But what follow'd?
   3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces
 Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like
 Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly.
 Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people:
 When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury,
 She had all the Royall makings of a Queene;
 As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne,
 The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes
 Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire
 With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome,
 Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
 And with the same full State pac'd backe againe
 To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held
    1 Sir,
 You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past:
 For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost,
 'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall
    3 I know it:
 But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
 Is fresh about me
    2 What two Reuerend Byshops
 Were those that went on each side of the Queene?
   3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester,
 Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary:
 The other London
    2 He of Winchester
 Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops,
 The vertuous Cranmer
    3 All the Land knowes that:
 How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes
 Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him
    2 Who may that be, I pray you
    3 Thomas Cromwell,
 A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly
 A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him
 Master o'th' Iewell House,
 And one already of the Priuy Councell
    2 He will deserue more
    3 Yes without all doubt.
 Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way,
 Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests:
 Something I can command. As I walke thither,
 Ile tell ye more
    Both. You may command vs Sir.
 Scena Secunda.
 Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her
 Vsher, and Patience her Woman.
   Grif. How do's your Grace?
   Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death:
 My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth,
 Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire,
 So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease.
 Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee,
 That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey
 Was dead?
   Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace
 Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't
    Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de.
 If well, he stept before me happily
 For my example
    Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,
 For after the stout Earle Northumberland
 Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward
 As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer,
 He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill
 He could not sit his Mule
    Kath. Alas poore man
    Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester,
 Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot
 With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him;
 To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot,
 An old man, broken with the stormes of State,
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
 Giue him a little earth for Charity.
 So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse
 Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this,
 About the houre of eight, which he himselfe
 Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance,
 Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes,
 He gaue his Honors to the world agen,
 His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace
    Kath. So may he rest,
 His Faults lye gently on him:
 Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him,
 And yet with Charity. He was a man
 Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking
 Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion
 Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play,
 His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence
 He would say vntruths, and be euer double
 Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer
 (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.
 His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty:
 But his performance, as he is now, Nothing:
 Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue
 The Clergy ill example
    Grif. Noble Madam:
 Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues
 We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse
 To heare me speake his good now?
   Kath. Yes good Griffith,
 I were malicious else
    Grif. This Cardinall,
 Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly
 Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle
 He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one:
 Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading:
 Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not:
 But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer.
 And though he were vnsatisfied in getting,
 (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam,
 He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him
 Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you,
 Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him,
 Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it.
 The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous,
 So excellent in Art, and still so rising,
 That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue.
 His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him:
 For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe,
 And found the Blessednesse of being little.
 And to adde greater Honors to his Age
 Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God
    Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald,
 No other speaker of my liuing Actions,
 To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,
 But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith.
 Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee
 With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie,
 (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him.
 Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower,
 I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
 Cause the Musitians play me that sad note
 I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating
 On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too.
 Sad and solemne Musicke.
   Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
 For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
 The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe
 clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes,
 and golden
 Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands.
 first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first
 hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make
 Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to
 the other
 next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and
 holding the
 Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland
 to the
 last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it
 were by
 inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and
 holdeth vp
 her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the
 with them. The Musicke continues.
   Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
 And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye?
   Grif. Madam, we are heere
    Kath. It is not you I call for,
 Saw ye none enter since I slept?
   Grif. None Madam
    Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope
 Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces
 Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?
 They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,
 And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele
 I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly
    Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames
 Possesse your Fancy
    Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue,
 They are harsh and heauy to me.
 Musicke ceases.
   Pati. Do you note
 How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine?
 How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes,
 And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?
   Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray
    Pati. Heauen comfort her.
 Enter a Messenger.
   Mes. And't like your Grace -
   Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow,
 Deserue we no more Reuerence?
   Grif. You are too blame,
 Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse
 To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele
    Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon,
 My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying
 A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you
    Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow
 Let me ne're see againe.
 Exit Messeng.
 Enter Lord Capuchius.
 If my sight faile not,
 You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
 My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius
    Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant
    Kath. O my Lord,
 The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely
 With me, since first you knew me.
 But I pray you,
 What is your pleasure with me?
   Cap. Noble Lady,
 First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next
 The Kings request, that I would visit you,
 Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me
 Sends you his Princely Commendations,
 And heartily entreats you take good comfort
    Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late,
 'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
 That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me:
 But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers.
 How does his Highnesse?
   Cap. Madam, in good health
    Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish,
 When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name
 Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter
 I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
   Pat. No Madam
    Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer
 This to my Lord the King
    Cap. Most willing Madam
    Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse
 The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter,
 The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her,
 Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding.
 She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature,
 I hope she will deserue well; and a little
 To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him,
 Heauen knowes how deerely.
 My next poore Petition,
 Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie
 Vpon my wretched women, that so long
 Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
 Of which there is not one, I dare auow
 (And now I should not lye) but will deserue
 For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule,
 For honestie, and decent Carriage
 A right good Husband (let him be a Noble)
 And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em.
 The last is for my men, they are the poorest,
 (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me)
 That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em,
 And something ouer to remember me by.
 If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life
 And able meanes, we had not parted thus.
 These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord,
 By that you loue the deerest in this world,
 As you wish Christian peace to soules departed,
 Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King
 To do me this last right
    Cap. By Heauen I will,
 Or let me loose the fashion of a man
    Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me
 In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse:
 Say his long trouble now is passing
 Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him
 (For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell
 My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience,
 You must not leaue me yet. I must to bed,
 Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench,
 Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer
 With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know
 I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me,
 Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like
 A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me.
 I can no more.
 Exeunt. leading Katherine.
 Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
 Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before
 him, met
 by Sir Thomas Louell.
   Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not
    Boy. It hath strooke
    Gard. These should be houres for necessities,
 Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature
 With comforting repose, and not for vs
 To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas:
 Whether so late?
   Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord?
   Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero
 With the Duke of Suffolke
    Lou. I must to him too
 Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue
    Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter?
 It seemes you are in hast: and if there be
 No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend
 Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke
 (As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haue
 In them a wilder Nature, then the businesse
 That seekes dispatch by day
    Lou. My Lord, I loue you;
 And durst commend a secret to your eare
 Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor
 They say in great Extremity, and fear'd
 Shee'l with the Labour, end
    Gard. The fruite she goes with
 I pray for heartily, that it may finde
 Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas,
 I wish it grubb'd vp now
    Lou. Me thinkes I could
 Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes
 Shee's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie do's
 Deserue our better wishes
    Gard. But Sir, Sir,
 Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman
 Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious,
 And let me tell you, it will ne're be well,
 'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me,
 Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee
 Sleepe in their Graues
    Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two
 The most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell,
 Beside that of the Iewell-House, is made Master
 O'th' Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir,
 Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments,
 With which the Lime will loade him. Th' Archbyshop
 Is the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speak
 One syllable against him?
   Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
 There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd
 To speake my minde of him: and indeed this day,
 Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue
 Incenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is
 (For so I know he is, they know he is)
 A most Arch-Heretique, a Pestilence
 That does infect the Land: with which, they moued
 Haue broken with the King, who hath so farre
 Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace,
 And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes,
 Our Reasons layd before him, hath commanded
 To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord
 He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas,
 And we must root him out. From your Affaires
 I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.
 Exit Gardiner and Page.
   Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant.
 Enter King and Suffolke.
   King. Charles, I will play no more to night,
 My mindes not on't, you are too hard for me
    Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before
    King. But little Charles,
 Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play.
 Now Louel, from the Queene what is the Newes
    Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her
 What you commanded me, but by her woman,
 I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes
 In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse
 Most heartily to pray for her
    King. What say'st thou? Ha?
 To pray for her? What is she crying out?
   Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made
 Almost each pang, a death
    King. Alas good Lady
    Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and
 With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of
 Your Highnesse with an Heire
    King. 'Tis midnight Charles,
 Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember
 Th' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,
 For I must thinke of that, which company
 Would not be friendly too
    Suf. I wish your Highnesse
 A quiet night, and my good Mistris will
 Remember in my Prayers
    King. Charles good night.
 Exit Suffolke.
 Well Sir, what followes?
 Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
   Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop,
 As you commanded me
    King. Ha? Canterbury?
   Den. I my good Lord
    King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?
   Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure
    King. Bring him to Vs
    Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake,
 I am happily come hither.
 Enter Cranmer and Denny.
   King. Auoyd the Gallery.
 Louel seemes to stay.
 Ha? I haue said. Be gone.
 Exeunt. Louell and Denny.
   Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus?
 'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well
    King. How now my Lord?
 You do desire to know wherefore
 I sent for you
    Cran. It is my dutie
 T' attend your Highnesse pleasure
    King. Pray you arise
 My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie:
 Come, you and I must walke a turne together:
 I haue Newes to tell you.
 Come, come, giue me your hand.
 Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake,
 And am right sorrie to repeat what followes.
 I haue, and most vnwillingly of late
 Heard many greeuous, I do say my Lord
 Greeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd,
 Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall
 This Morning come before vs, where I know
 You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe,
 But that till further Triall, in those Charges
 Which will require your Answer, you must take
 Your patience to you, and be well contented
 To make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vs
 It fits we thus proceed, or else no witnesse
 Would come against you
    Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse,
 And am right glad to catch this good occasion
 Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe
 And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know
 There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues,
 Then I my selfe, poore man
    King. Stand vp, good Canterbury,
 Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted
 In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp,
 Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame,
 What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd
 You would haue giuen me your Petition, that
 I should haue tane some paines, to bring together
 Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you
 Without indurance further
    Cran. Most dread Liege,
 The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie:
 If they shall faile, I with mine Enemies
 Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not,
 Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothing
 What can be said against me
    King. Know you not
 How your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world?
 Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practises
 Must beare the same proportion, and not euer
 The Iustice and the Truth o'th' question carries
 The dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what ease
 Might corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt
 To sweare against you: Such things haue bene done.
 You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice
 Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke,
 I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then your Master,
 Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd
 Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too,
 You take a Precepit for no leape of danger,
 And woe your owne destruction
    Cran. God, and your Maiesty
 Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
 The trap is laid for me
    King. Be of good cheere,
 They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too:
 Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning see
 You do appeare before them. If they shall chance
 In charging you with matters, to commit you:
 The best perswasions to the contrary
 Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie
 Th' occasion shall instruct you. If intreaties
 Will render you no remedy, this Ring
 Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs
 There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps:
 He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother,
 I sweare he is true-hearted, and a soule
 None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone,
 And do as I haue bid you.
 Exit Cranmer.
 He ha's strangled his Language in his teares.
 Enter Olde Lady.
   Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you?
   Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring
 Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good Angels
 Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person
 Vnder their blessed wings
    King. Now by thy lookes
 I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd?
 Say I, and of a boy
    Lady. I, I my Liege,
 And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen
 Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle
 Promises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen
 Desires your Visitation, and to be
 Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
 As Cherry, is to Cherry
    King. Louell
    Lou. Sir
    King. Giue her an hundred Markes.
 Ile to the Queene.
 Exit King.
   Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more.
 An ordinary Groome is for such payment.
 I will haue more, or scold it out of him.
 Said I for this, the Gyrle was like to him? Ile
 Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis hot,
 Ile put it to the issue.
 Exit Ladie.
 Scena Secunda.
 Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury.
   Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman
 That was sent to me from the Councell, pray'd me
 To make great hast. All fast? What meanes this? Hoa?
 Who waites there? Sure you know me?
 Enter Keeper.
   Keep. Yes, my Lord:
 But yet I cannot helpe you
    Cran. Why?
   Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for.
 Enter Doctor Buts.
   Cran. So
    Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad
 I came this way so happily. The King
 Shall vnderstand it presently.
 Exit Buts
   Cran. 'Tis Buts.
 The Kings Physitian, as he past along
 How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me:
 Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaine
 This is of purpose laid by some that hate me,
 (God turne their hearts, I neuer sought their malice)
 To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me
 Wait else at doore: a fellow Councellor
 'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes.
 But their pleasures
 Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
 Enter the King, and Buts, at a Windowe aboue.
   Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight
    King. What's that Buts?
   Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day
    Kin. Body a me: where is it?
   Butts. There my Lord:
 The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
 Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Purseuants,
 Pages, and Foot-boyes
    Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed.
 Is this the Honour they doe one another?
 'Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought
 They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
 At least good manners; as not thus to suffer
 A man of his Place, and so neere our fauour
 To dance attendance on their Lordships pleasures,
 And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets:
 By holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery;
 Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close:
 We shall heare more anon.
 A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed
 the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end
 of the
 Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for
 Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey,
 Chamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side.
 Cromwell at
 lower end, as Secretary.
   Chan. Speake to the businesse, M[aster]. Secretary;
 Why are we met in Councell?
   Crom. Please your Honours,
 The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury
    Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it?
   Crom. Yes
    Norf. Who waits there?
   Keep. Without my Noble Lords?
   Gard. Yes
    Keep. My Lord Archbishop:
 And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures
    Chan. Let him come in
    Keep. Your Grace may enter now.
 Cranmer approches the Councell Table.
   Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry
 To sit heere at this present, and behold
 That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men
 In our owne natures fraile, and capable
 Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty
 And want of wisedome, you that best should teach vs,
 Haue misdemean'd your selfe, and not a little:
 Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling
 The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines
 (For so we are inform'd) with new opinions,
 Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies;
 And not reform'd, may proue pernicious
    Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too
 My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses,
 Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle;
 But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em,
 Till they obey the mannage. If we suffer
 Out of our easinesse and childish pitty
 To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse;
 Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then?
 Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint
 Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours,
 The vpper Germany can deerely witnesse:
 Yet freshly pittied in our memories
    Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse
 Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd,
 And with no little study, that my teaching
 And the strong course of my Authority,
 Might goe one way, and safely; and the end
 Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing,
 (I speake it with a single heart, my Lords)
 A man that more detests, more stirres against,
 Both in his priuate Conscience, and his place,
 Defacers of a publique peace then I doe:
 Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart
 With lesse Allegeance in it. Men that make
 Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment;
 Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your, Lordships,
 That in this case of Iustice, my Accusers,
 Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
 And freely vrge against me
    Suff. Nay, my Lord,
 That cannot be; you are a Counsellor,
 And by that vertue no man dare accuse you
    Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more moment,
 We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure
 And our consent, for better tryall of you,
 From hence you be committed to the Tower,
 Where being but a priuate man againe,
 You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
 More then (I feare) you are prouided for
    Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you,
 You are alwayes my good Friend, if your will passe,
 I shall both finde your Lordship, Iudge and Iuror,
 You are so mercifull. I see your end,
 'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord
 Become a Churchman, better then Ambition:
 Win straying Soules with modesty againe,
 Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe,
 Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience,
 I make as little doubt as you doe conscience,
 In doing dayly wrongs. I could say more,
 But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest
    Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary,
 That's the plaine truth; your painted glosse discouers
 To men that vnderstand you, words and weaknesse
    Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little,
 By your good fauour, too sharpe; Men so Noble,
 How euer faulty, yet should finde respect
 For what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty,
 To load a falling man
    Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary,
 I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst
 Of all this Table say so
    Crom. Why my Lord?
   Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer
 Of this new Sect? ye are not sound
    Crom. Not sound?
   Gard. Not sound I say
    Crom. Would you were halfe so honest:
 Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares
    Gard. I shall remember this bold Language
    Crom. Doe.
 Remember your bold life too
    Cham. This is too much;
 Forbeare for shame my Lords
    Gard. I haue done
    Crom. And I
    Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed
 I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,
 You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;
 There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure
 Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords
    All. We are
    Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
 But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?
   Gard. What other,
 Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome:
 Let some o'th' Guard be ready there.
 Enter the Guard.
   Cran. For me?
 Must I goe like a Traytor thither?
   Gard. Receiue him,
 And see him safe i'th' Tower
    Cran. Stay good my Lords,
 I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords,
 By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause
 Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it
 To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister
    Cham. This is the Kings Ring
    Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit
    Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all,
 When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling,
 'Twold fall vpon our selues
    Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords
 The King will suffer but the little finger
 Of this man to be vex'd?
   Cham. Tis now too certaine;
 How much more is his Life in value with him?
 Would I were fairely out on't
    Crom. My mind gaue me,
 In seeking tales and Informations
 Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell
 And his Disciples onely enuy at,
 Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye.
 Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate.
   Gard. Dread Soueraigne,
 How much are we bound to Heauen,
 In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince;
 Not onely good and wise, but most religious:
 One that in all obedience, makes the Church
 The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen
 That holy duty out of deare respect,
 His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare
 The cause betwixt her, and this great offender
    Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations,
 Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not
 To heare such flattery now, and in my presence
 They are too thin, and base to hide offences,
 To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell,
 And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me:
 But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure
 Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody.
 Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest
 Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.
 By all that's holy, he had better starue,
 Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not
    Sur. May it please your Grace; -
   Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me,
 I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding,
 And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none:
 Was it discretion Lords, to let this man,
 This good man (few of you deserue that Title)
 This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy
 At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?
 Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission
 Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye
 Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him,
 Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see,
 More out of Malice then Integrity,
 Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane,
 Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue
    Chan. Thus farre
 My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace,
 To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
 Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather
 (If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall,
 And faire purgation to the world then malice,
 I'm sure in me
    Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him,
 Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it.
 I will say thus much for him, if a Prince
 May be beholding to a Subiect; I
 Am for his loue and seruice, so to him.
 Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him;
 Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury
 I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee.
 That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme,
 You must be Godfather, and answere for her
    Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory
 In such an honour: how may I deserue it,
 That am a poore and humble Subiect to you?
   Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones;
 You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old
 Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will
 these please you?
 Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you
 Embrace, and loue this man
    Gard. With a true heart,
 And Brother; loue I doe it
    Cran. And let Heauen
 Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation
    Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts,
 The common voyce I see is verified
 Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury
 A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer:
 Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long
 To haue this young one made a Christian.
 As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine:
 So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine.
 Scena Tertia.
 Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.
   Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe
 you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues,
 leaue your gaping
    Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder
    Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue:
 Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree
 staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em:
 Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings?
 Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude
   Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible,
 Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons,
 To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe
 On May-day Morning, which will neuer be:
 We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em
    Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?
   Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in?
 As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote,
 (You see the poore remainder) could distribute,
 I made no spare Sir
    Port. You did nothing Sir
    Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
 To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any
 That had a head to hit, either young or old,
 He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker:
 Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe,
 And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her
    Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter?
   Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy,
 Keepe the dore close Sirha
    Man. What would you haue me doe?
   Por. What should you doe,
 But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields
 to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the
 great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs?
 Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my
 Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a
 thousand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all together
    Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is
 a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier
 by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes
 now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are
 vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake
 did I hit three times on the head, and three times
 was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there
 like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers
 Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me,
 till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling
 such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once,
 and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I
 might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to
 her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she
 was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at
 length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em
 stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot,
 deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to
 draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the
 Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely
    Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse,
 and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the
 tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limehouse,
 their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of
 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance
 these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two
 Beadles, that is to come.
 Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
   Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere?
 They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming,
 As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters?
 These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes?
 Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these
 Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue
 Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies,
 When they passe backe from the Christening?
   Por. And't please your Honour,
 We are but men; and what so many may doe,
 Not being torne a pieces, we haue done:
 An Army cannot rule 'em
    Cham. As I liue,
 If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all
 By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads
 Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues,
 And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
 Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound,
 Th'are come already from the Christening,
 Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out
 To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde
 A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes
    Por. Make way there, for the Princesse
    Man. You great fellow,
 Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake
    Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile,
 Ile pecke you o're the pales else.
 Scena Quarta.
 Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior,
 Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of
 Suffolke, two
 Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening
 Guifts: Then
 foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of
 Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.
 Traine borne
 by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other
 Godmother, and
 Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter
   Gart. Heauen
 From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,
 Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
 Princesse of England Elizabeth.
 Flourish. Enter King and Guard.
   Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
 My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray
 All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady,
 Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy,
 May hourely fall vpon ye
    Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:
 What is her Name?
   Cran. Elizabeth
    Kin. Stand vp Lord,
 With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee,
 Into whose hand, I giue thy Life
    Cran. Amen
    Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall;
 I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,
 When she ha's so much English
    Cran. Let me speake Sir,
 For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter,
 Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth.
 This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her;
 Though in her Cradle; yet now promises
 Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings,
 Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be,
 (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse)
 A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
 And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer
 More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue
 Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces
 That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is,
 With all the Vertues that attend the good,
 Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her,
 Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her:
 She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;
 Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,
 And hang their heads with sorrow:
 Good growes with her.
 In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety,
 Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
 The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
 God shall be truely knowne, and those about her,
 From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
 And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood.
 Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when
 The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
 Her Ashes new create another Heyre,
 As great in admiration as her selfe.
 So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One,
 (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes)
 Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour
 Shall Star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
 And so stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror,
 That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant,
 Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
 Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine,
 His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,
 Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish,
 And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
 To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
 Shall see this, and blesse Heauen
    Kin. Thou speakest wonders
    Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England,
 An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her,
 And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
 Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye,
 She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin,
 A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe
 To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her
    Kin. O Lord Archbishop
 Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before
 This happy Child, did I get any thing.
 This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me,
 That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire
 To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker.
 I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
 And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
 I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence,
 And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords,
 Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye,
 She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
 'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay:
 This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.
   THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please
 All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,
 And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare
 W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,
 They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City
 Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
 Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare
 All the expected good w'are like to heare.
 For this Play at this time, is onely in
 The mercifull construction of good women,
 For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,
 And say twill doe; I know within a while,
 All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
 If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.
 FINIS. The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.

Next: The Tragedie of Coriolanus