« PředchozíPokračovat »
2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.
Ever belor'd, and loving, may his rule be: 1 Gent.
Sure, he does not; And when old time shall lead him to his end, He was never so womanish: the cause
Goodness and he fill up one monument! He may a little grieve at.
Lov. To the water side I must conduct your grace; 2 Gent. Certainly,
Then, give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux, The cardinal is the end of this.
Who undertakes you to your end. 1 Gent.
The duke is coming: see, the barge be ready ;
And fit it with such furniture, as suits
Nay, sir Nicholas, 2 Gent.
That trick of state Let it alone: my state now will but mock me. Was a deep envious one.
When I came hither I was lord high constable, 1 Gent. At his return,
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun: No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
Yet I am richer than my base accusers, And generally ;—whoever the king favours,
That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it; The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And with that blood will one day make them groan
for't. And far enough from court too.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, 2 Gent.
All the commons Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince, 1 Gent. Stay there, sir;
Restor'd me to my honours, and out of ruins And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Made my name once more noble. Now, his son,
before him; the Axe with the edge towards him; That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
A little happier than my wretched father : 2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,—both Buck.
All good people, Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most : You that thus far have come to pity me,
A most unnatural and faithless service. Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
Heaven has an end in all; yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in
away has done upon the premises but justice;
Like water from ye, never found again
Pray for me. I must now forsake ye: the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me. Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
Farewell: and when you would say something that is For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
sad, For farther life in this world I ne'er hope,
Speak how I fell.—[ have done, and God forgive me! Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, &c. More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me, 1 Gent. O! this is full of pity.—Sir, it calls, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
I fear, too many curses on their heads His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
That were the authors. Is only bitter to him, only dying,
If the duke be guiltless, Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. A strong faith to conceal it. Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, 1 Gent.
Let me have it: As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
I do not talk much. There cannot be those numberless offences
I am confident:
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine ?
Yes, but it held not;
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.
And free us from his slavery.
Nor. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance,
From princes into pages. All men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.
For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed.
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
Let's in, 1 Gent.
'Tis woful. And with some other business put the king We are too open here to argue this;
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon Let's think in private more.
My lord, you'll bear us company?
The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. of the best breed in the north. When they were
[Exit Lord Chamberlain. ready to set out for London, a man of my lord car- Curtain drawn : the King is discovered sitting, and dinal's, by commission and main power, took them fro
Pray God, he be not angry.
Who am I? ha!
Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences,
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way
I left him private, Is business of estate, in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
Ye are too bold.
Is this an hour for temporal affairs ? ha!-
No; his conscience
Enter Wolsey and CAMPEIUS.
Who's there ? my good lord cardinal ?–0! my Wolsey,
Suf. Pray God, he do: he'll never know himself else. Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom :
Nor. How holily he works in all his business. Use us, and it.—My good lord, have great care
Sir, you cannot.
Of private conference.
We are busy: go.
[To Norfolk and SUFFOLK.
Nor. This priest has no pride in him.
Not to speak of;
I would not be so sick though for his place :
But this cannot continue.
If it do,
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. These news are every where; every tongue speaks them, Above all princes, in committing freely
Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
[Raising his book.
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
SCENE III.-An Ante-chamber in the Queen's
Anne. Not for that neither :-here's the pang that One general tongue unto us, this good man,
pinches; This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius; His highness baving liv'd so long with her, and she Whom once more I present unto your highness So good a lady, that no tongue could ever K. Hen. And once more in mine arms I bid him Pronounce dishonour of her: by my life, welcome,
She never knew harm-doing,-0! now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Sweet at first t' acquire, -after this process,
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity [Kneeling and rising again. Would move a monster. I tender my commission ; by whose virtue,
Hearts of most hard temper (The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord
Melt and lament for her. Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant,
0, God's will! much better, In the unpartial judging of this business.
She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal, K. Hen. Two equal men.
The queen shall be ac- Yet, if that cruel fortune do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
Alas, poor lady!
She's a stranger now again? A woman of less place might ask by law,
So much the more Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.
Must pity drop upon her. Verily, K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have ; and my I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, favour
And range with humble livers in content,
Is our best having.
By my troth, and maidenhead, you;
I would not be a queen. You are the king's now.
Beshrew me, I would,
But to be commanded And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
You that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts
Yes, he was. (Saving your mincing) the capacity Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, Wol.
Yes, surely. If you might please to stretch it. Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread, Anne.
Nay, good troth.
Old L. Yes, troth, and troth.—You would not be a
How! of me?
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
of a duchess ? have you limbs Wol.
Heaven's peace be with him! To bear that load of title ? That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers Anne.
No, in truth. There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
Old L. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a For he would needs be virtuous : that good fellow,
little : If I command him, follows my appointment:
I would not be a young count in your way,
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy. [Exit GARDINER. Anne.
How you do talk ! The most convenient place that I can think of, I swear again, I would not be a queen For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars :
For all the world. There shall meet about this weighty business.
Old L. ye
In faith, for little England My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O my lord !
You'd venture an emballing : I myself Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
Lo! who comes So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience,No more to the crown but that. 0! 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. (Exeunt.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
SCENE IV.-A Hall in Black-Friars.
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two l'ergers,
with short silver Wands ; next them, two Scribes, in
the habit of Doctors; after them, the Archbishop of
My good lord,
CANTERBURY alone ; after him, the Bishops of Lin-
COLN, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asapu; next
them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman
bearing the Purse, with the Great Seal, and a Cardi-
nal's Hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver
Cross ; then a Gentleman-Usher bare-headed, accom-
punied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a silver
Mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver
Pillars ; after them, side by side, the two Cardinals
Wolsey and Campeius; two Noblemen with the
Sword and Mace. The King takes place under the
cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit under him as
judges. The Queen takes place at some distance from A thousand pound a year, annual support,
the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side Out of his grace he adds.
the court, in manner of a consistory; below them, the
Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops.
of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the
Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
What's the need?
Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into the
K. Hen. Here.
[The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair,
goes about the court, comes to the King, and Old L. Why, this it is; see, see !
kneels at his feet; then speaks.) I have been begging sixteen years in court,
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice,
And to bestow your pity on me; for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
your theme I could Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry,
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? or which of your friends
He were mine enemy? what friend of mine,
Continue in my liking ? nay, gave notice
He was from thence dischargd. Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you : if in the course
And process of this time you can report,
And prove it too, against 'mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
My lord, my lord, To the sharp'st knife of justice. Please you, sir,
I am a simple woman, much too weak The king, your father, was reputed for
To oppose your cunning. Y’are meek, and humbleA prince most prudent, of an excellent
mouth'd ; An unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, You sign your place and calling in full seeming, My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one
With meekness and humility; but your heart The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many Is cramm’d with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. A year before : it is not to be question'd
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
Your high profession spiritual; that again
I do refuse you for my judge, and here, Wol.
You have here, lady, Before you all, appeal unto the pope, (And of your choice) these reverend fathers; men To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, Of singular integrity and learning,
And to be judg'd by him. Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled
[She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart. To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless, Cam.
is obstinate, That longer you defer the court, as well
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and For your own quiet, as to rectify
Disdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well. What is unsettled in the king.
She's going away.
K. Hen. Call her again.
court. And that, without delay, their arguments
Gent. Ush. Madam, you are call’d back.
Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray you, keep
your way : To you I speak.
When you are call'd, return.-Now the Lord help!
They vex me past my patience.-Pray you, pass on.
Sir, I will not tarry; no, nor ever more,
Upon this business, my appearance make
[Exeunt Queen, and her Attendants. I'll turn to sparks of fire.
Go thy ways, Kate :
That man i' the world who shall report he has
For speaking false in that. Thou art alone
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
And, like her true nobility, she has
Carried herself towards me. I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
Most gracious sir,
In bumblest manner I require your highness,
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
Of all these ears, (for where I am robb’d and bound,
At once, and fully satisfied) whether ever I
Laid any scruple in your way, which might For you, or any : how far I have proceeded,
Induce you to the question on't? or ever Or how far farther shall, is warranted
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spake one the least word, that might
Or touch of her good person?
My lord cardinal,
I free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not That I am free of your report, he knows,
Why they are so, but, like to village curs, I am not of your wrong: therefore, in him
Bark when their fellows do: by some of these It lies to cure me ; and the cure is, to
The queen is put in anger. Y'are excus'd; Remove these thoughts from you: the which, before But will you be more justified ? You ever His highness shall speak in, I do beseech
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking, Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft, And to say so no more.
The passages made toward it.—On my honour,