Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth > Act I. Scene II.
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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.

The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth

Act I. Scene II.


The Council Chamber.
 
  
Enter the KING, leaning on the CARDINAL’S shoulder, the Lords of the Council, SIR THOMAS LOVELL, Officers, and Attendants. The CARDINAL places himself under the KING’S feet on the right side.
 
  K. Hen.  My life itself, and the best heart of it, 
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i’ the level   4
Of a full-charg’d confederacy, and give thanks 
To you that chok’d it. Let be call’d before us 
That gentleman of Buckingham’s; in person 
I’ll hear him his confessions justify;   8
And point by point the treasons of his master 
He shall again relate. 
  
A noise within, crying, ‘Room for the Queen!’ Enter QUEEN KATHARINE, ushered by the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK: she kneels. The KING riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him.
 
  Q. Kath.  Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.  12
  K. Hen.  Arise, and take place by us: half your suit  
Never name to us; you have half our power: 
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; 
Repeat your will, and take it.  16
  Q. Kath.        Thank your majesty. 
That you would love yourself, and in that love 
Not unconsider’d leave your honour, nor 
The dignity of your office, is the point  20
Of my petition. 
  K. Hen.        Lady mine, proceed. 
  Q. Kath.  I am solicited, not by a few, 
And those of true condition, that your subjects  24
Are in great grievance: there have been commissions 
Sent down among ’em, which hath flaw’d the heart 
Of all their loyalties: wherein, although, 
My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches  28
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on 
Of these exactions, yet the king our master,— 
Whose honour heaven shield from soil!—even he escapes not 
Language unmannerly; yea, such which breaks  32
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears 
In loud rebellion. 
  Nor.        Not almost appears, 
It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,  36
The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
The many to them ’longing, have put off 
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, 
Unfit for other life, compell’d by hunger  40
And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, 
And danger serves among them. 
  K. Hen.        Taxation!  44
Wherein? and what taxation? My Lord Cardinal, 
You that are blam’d for it alike with us, 
Know you of this taxation? 
  Wol.        Please you, sir,  48
I know but of a single part in aught 
Pertains to the state; and front but in that file 
Where others tell steps with me. 
  Q. Kath.        No, my lord,  52
You know no more than others; but you frame 
Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome 
To those which would not know them, and yet must 
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,  56
Whereof my sov’reign would have note, they are, 
Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear ’em, 
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say 
They are devis’d by you, or else you suffer  60
Too hard an exclamation. 
  K. Hen.        Still exaction! 
The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know, 
Is this exaction?  64
  Q. Kath.        I am much too venturous 
In tempting of your patience; but am bolden’d 
Under your promis’d pardon. The subjects’ grief 
Comes through commissions, which compel from each  68
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
Without delay; and the pretence for this 
Is nam’d, your wars in France. This makes bold mouths: 
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze  72
Allegiance in them; their curses now 
Live where their prayers did; and it’s come to pass, 
This tractable obedience is a slave 
To each incensed will. I would your highness  76
Would give it quick consideration, for 
There is no primer business. 
  K. Hen.        By my life, 
This is against our pleasure.  80
  Wol.        And for me, 
I have no further gone in this than by 
A single voice, and that not pass’d me but 
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am  84
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  88
That virtue must go through. We must not stint 
Our necessary actions, in the fear 
To cope malicious censurers; which ever, 
As rav’nous fishes, do a vessel follow  92
That is new-trimm’d, but benefit no further 
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is 
Not ours, or not allow’d; what worst, as oft,  96
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
In fear our motion will be mock’d or carp’d at, 
We should take root here where we sit, or sit 100
State-statues only. 
  K. Hen.        Things done well, 
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; 
Things done without example, in their issue 104
Are to be fear’d. Have you a precedent 
Of this commission? I believe, not any. 
We must not rend our subjects from our laws, 
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? 108
A trembling contribution! Why, we take 
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o’ the timber; 
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack’d, 
The air will drink the sap. To every county 112
Where this is question’d, send our letters, with 
Free pardon to each man that has denied 
The force of this commission. Pray, look to ’t; 
I put it to your care. 116
  Wol.  [To the Secretary.] A word with you. 
Let there be letters writ to every shire, 
Of the king’s grace and pardon. The griev’d commons 
Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois’d 120
That through our intercession this revokement 
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you 
Further in the proceeding.  [Exit Secretary. 
  
Enter Surveyor.
 124
  Q. Kath.  I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham 
Is run in your displeasure. 
  K. Hen.        It grieves many: 
The gentleman is learn’d, and a most rare speaker, 128
To nature none more bound; his training such 
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, 
And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, 
When these so noble benefits shall prove 132
Not well dispos’d, the mind growing once corrupt, 
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, 
Who was enroll’d ’mongst wonders, and when we, 136
Almost with ravish’d listening, could not find 
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, 
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces 
That once were his, and is become as black 140
As if besmear’d in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear— 
This was his gentleman in trust—of him 
Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount 
The fore-recited practices; whereof 144
We cannot feel too little, hear too much. 
  Wol.  Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what you, 
Most like a careful subject, have collected 
Out of the Duke of Buckingham. 148
  K. Hen.        Speak freely. 
  Surv.  First, it was usual with him, every day 
It would infect his speech, that if the king 
Should without issue die, he’d carry it so 152
To make the sceptre his. These very words 
I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, 
Lord Abergavenny, to whom by oath he menac’d 
Revenge upon the cardinal. 156
  Wol.        Please your highness, note 
This dangerous conception in this point. 
Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
His will is most malignant; and it stretches 160
Beyond you, to your friends. 
  Q. Kath.        My learn’d Lord Cardinal, 
Deliver all with charity. 
  K. Hen.        Speak on: 164
How grounded he his title to the crown 
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him 
At any time speak aught? 
  Surv.        He was brought to this 168
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. 
  K. Hen.  What was that Hopkins? 
  Surv.        Sir, a Chartreux friar, 
His confessor, who fed him every minute 172
With words of sovereignty. 
  K. Hen.        How know’st thou this? 
  Surv.  Not long before your highness sped to France, 
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish 176
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand 
What was the speech among the Londoners 
Concerning the French journey: I replied, 
Men fear’d the French would prove perfidious, 180
To the king’s danger. Presently the duke 
Said, ’twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted 
’Twould prove the verity of certain words 
Spoke by a holy monk; ‘that oft,’ says he, 184
‘Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit 
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour 
To hear from him a matter of some moment: 
Whom after under the confession’s seal 188
He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke, 
My chaplain to no creature living but 
To me should utter, with demure confidence 
This pausingly ensu’d: neither the king nor ’s heirs— 192
Tell you the duke—shall prosper: bid him strive 
To gain the love o’ the commonalty: the duke 
Shall govern England.’ 
  Q. Kath.        If I know you well, 196
You were the duke’s surveyor, and lost your office 
On the complaint o’ the tenants: take good heed 
You charge not in your spleen a noble person, 
And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed; 200
Yes, heartily beseech you. 
  K. Hen.        Let him on. 
Go forward. 
  Surv.        On my soul, I’ll speak but truth. 204
I told my lord the duke, by the devil’s illusions 
The monk might be deceiv’d; and that ’twas dangerous for him 
To ruminate on this so far, until 
It forg’d him some design, which, being believ’d, 208
It was much like to do. He answer’d, ‘Tush! 
It can do me no damage;’ adding further, 
That had the king in his last sickness fail’d, 
The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads 212
Should have gone off. 
  K. Hen.        Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha! 
There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further? 
  Surv.  I can, my liege. 216
  K. Hen.        Proceed. 
  Surv.        Being at Greenwich, 
After your highness had reprov’d the duke 
About Sir William Blomer,— 220
  K. Hen.        I remember 
Of such a time: being my sworn servant, 
The duke retain’d him his. But on; what hence? 
  Surv.  ‘If,’ quoth he, ‘I for this had been committed, 224
As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play’d 
The part my father meant to act upon 
The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, 
Made suit to come in ’s presence; which if granted, 228
As he made semblance of his duty, would 
Have put his knife into him.’ 
  K. Hen        A giant traitor! 
  Wol.  Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, 232
And this man out of prison? 
  Q. Kath.        God mend all! 
  K. Hen.  There’s something more would out of thee? what sayst? 
  Surv.  After ‘the duke his father,’ with ‘the knife,’ 236
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 tenour 
Was, were he evil us’d, he would outgo 240
His father by as much as a performance 
Does an irresolute purpose. 
  K. Hen.        There’s his period; 
To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach’d; 244
Call him to present trial: if he may 
Find mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none, 
Let him not seek ’t of us: by day and night! 
He’s traitor to the height.  [Exeunt. 248

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