An Antechamber in the Palace. | |
| |
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. | |
| Cham. My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. 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 Cardinal’s, by commission and main power, took them from me; with this reason: His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir. | |
| I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them: | 4 |
| He will have all, I think. | |
| |
Enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. | |
| Nor. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. | |
| Cham. Good day to both your Graces. | 8 |
| Suf. How is the king employ’d? | |
| Cham. I left him private, | |
| Full of sad thoughts and troubles. | |
| Nor. What’s the cause? | 12 |
| Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife | |
| Has crept too near his conscience. | |
| Suf. No; his conscience. | |
| Has crept too near another lady. | 16 |
| Nor. ’Tis so: | |
| This is the cardinal’s doing, the king-cardinal: | |
| That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune, | |
| Turns what he list. The king will know him one day. | 20 |
| Suf. Pray God he do! he’ll never know himself else. | |
| Nor. How holily he works in all his business, | |
| And with what zeal! for, now he has crack’d the league | |
| Between us and the emperor, the queen’s great nephew, | 24 |
| He dives into the king’s soul, and there scatters | |
| Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, | |
| Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage: | |
| And out of all these, to restore the king, | 28 |
| He counsels a divorce; a loss of her, | |
| That like a jewel has hung twenty years | |
| About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; | |
| Of her, that loves him with that excellence | 32 |
| That angels love good men with; even of her, | |
| That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, | |
| Will bless the king: and is not this course pious? | |
| Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! ’Tis most true | 36 |
| These news are every where; every tongue speaks ’em, | |
| And every true heart weeps for ’t. All that dare | |
| Look into these affairs, see this main end, | |
| The French king’s sister. Heaven will one day open | 40 |
| The king’s eyes, that so long have slept upon | |
| This bold bad man. | |
| Suf. And free us from his slavery. | |
| Nor. We had need pray, | 44 |
| And heartily, for our deliverance; | |
| Or this imperious man will work us all | |
| From princes into pages. All men’s honours | |
| Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion’d | 48 |
| Into what pitch he please. | |
| Suf. 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, | 52 |
| If the king please; his curses and his blessings | |
| Touch me alike, they’re breath I not believe in. | |
| I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him | |
| To him that made him proud, the pope. | 56 |
| Nor. Let’s in; | |
| And with some other business put the king | |
| From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him. | |
| My lord, you’ll bear us company? | 60 |
| Cham. Excuse me; | |
| The king hath sent me otherwhere: besides, | |
| You’ll find a most unfit time to disturb him: | |
| Health to your lordships. | 64 |
| Nor. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain. | |
| |
NORFOLK opens a folding-door. The KING is discovered sitting and reading pensively. | |
| Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted. | |
| K. Hen. Who is there, ha? | 68 |
| Nor. Pray God he be not angry. | |
| K. Hen. Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves | |
| Into my private meditations? | |
| Who am I, ha? | 72 |
| Nor. A gracious king that pardons all offences | |
| Malice ne’er meant: our breach of duty this way | |
| Is business of estate; in which we come | |
| To know your royal pleasure. | 76 |
| K. Hen. Ye are too bold. | |
| Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business: | |
| Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? | |
| |
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS. | 80 |
| Who’s there? my good Lord Cardinal? O! my Wolsey, | |
| The quiet of my wounded conscience; | |
| Thou art a cure fit for a king. [To CAMPEIUS.] You’re welcome, | |
| Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom: | 84 |
| Use us, and it. [To WOLSEY.] My good lord, have great care | |
| I be not found a talker. | |
| Wol. Sir, you cannot. | |
| I would your Grace would give us but an hour | 88 |
| Of private conference. | |
| K. Hen. [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.] We are busy: go. | |
| Nor. [Aside to SUFFOLK.] This priest has no pride in him! | |
| Suf. [Aside to NORFOLK.] Not to speak of; | 92 |
| I would not be so sick though for his place: | |
| But this cannot continue. | |
| Nor. [Aside to SUFFOLK.] If it do, | |
| I’ll venture one have-at-him. | 96 |
| Suf. [Aside to NORFOLK.] I another. [Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. | |
| Wol. Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom | |
| Above all princes, in committing freely | |
| Your scruple to the voice of Christendom. | 100 |
| Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? | |
| The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, | |
| Must now confess, if they have any goodness, | |
| The trial just and noble. All the clerks, | 104 |
| I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms | |
| Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment, | |
| Invited by your noble self, hath sent | |
| One general tongue unto us, this good man, | 108 |
| This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius; | |
| Whom once more I present unto your highness. | |
| K. Hen. And once more in my arms I bid him welcome, | |
| And thank the holy conclave for their loves: | 112 |
| They have sent me such a man I would have wish’d for. | |
| Cam. Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers’ loves, | |
| You are so noble. To your highness’ hand | |
| I tender my commission, by whose virtue,— | 116 |
| The court of Rome commanding,—you, my Lord | |
| Cardinal of York, are join’d with me, their servant, | |
| In the impartial judging of this business. | |
| K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted | 120 |
| Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner? | |
| Wol. I know your majesty has always lov’d her | |
| So dear in heart, not to deny her that | |
| A woman of less place might ask by law, | 124 |
| Scholars, allow’d freely to argue for her. | |
| K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour | |
| To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal, | |
| Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary: | 128 |
| I find him a fit fellow. [Exit WOLSEY. | |
| |
Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER. | |
| Wol. [Aside to GARDINER.] Give me your hand; much joy and favour to you; | |
| You are the king’s now. | 132 |
| Gard. [Aside to WOLSEY.] But to be commanded | |
| For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais’d me. | |
| K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. [They converse apart. | |
| Cam. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace | 136 |
| In this man’s place before him? | |
| Wol. Yes, he was. | |
| Cam. Was he not held a learned man? | |
| Wol. Yes, surely. | 140 |
| Cam. Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread then | |
| Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal. | |
| Wol. How! of me? | |
| Cam. They will not stick to say, you envied him, | 144 |
| And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, | |
| Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev’d him | |
| That he ran mad and died. | |
| Wol. Heaven’s peace be with him! | 148 |
| That’s Christian care enough: for living murmurers | |
| There’s places of rebuke. He was a fool, | |
| For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, | |
| If I command him, follows my appointment: | 152 |
| I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, | |
| We live not to be grip’d by meaner persons. | |
| K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. [Exit GARDINER. | |
| The most convenient place that I can think of | 156 |
| For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars; | |
| There ye shall meet about this weighty business. | |
| My Wolsey, see it furnish’d. O my lord! | |
| Would it not grieve an able man to leave | 160 |
| So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! | |
| O! ’tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt. | |
