Henry VIII

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.

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
    disdaine.

    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
   Guard.

   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.

   Exe.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the
Nobles,
    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
    of
    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.

   Exeunt.

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.

        Exeunt.

Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer
Table for
the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, &
Gentlemen,
    as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry
    Guilford.

    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
    Shepheards,
    vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the
    Cardinall
    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.

    Whisper.

    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.

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,
      &c.

      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.

   Exeunt.

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
Sir.
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
Suffolke.

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
    reading
    pensiuely.

    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.

    Exeunt.

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 -

    Exeunt.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short
siluer
wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them,
    the
    Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne,
    Ely,
    Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small
    distance,
    followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and
    a
    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
    Cardinalls
    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
    the
    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.

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.

    SONG.

    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.

    Exeunt.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and
Lord
Chamberlaine.

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
    him
    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.

    Exeunt.

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
  Copper
  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,
  bearing
  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
  A
  Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in
  her
  Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each
  side her,
  the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of
  Norfolke,
  in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes
  Traine. 10
  Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold,
  without
  Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State,
  and
  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.

   Exeunt.

Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her
Gentleman
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
   Personages,
   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.
   They
   first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first
   two
   hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make
   reuerend
   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
   Garland
   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.

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.
    What?

    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.

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
    vnder
    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,
    Lord
    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.

    Exeunt.

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
    Raskalls?
    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.

    Exeunt.

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior,
      Garter,
      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
      Norfolke,
      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
      speakes.

      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.

      Exeunt.

      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.

Read the full text of Henry VIII with a side-by-side translation HERE. Let's get one thing straight. This isn't going to be one of those plays that's laugh a minute. This play features a lot of real events, and some pretty grim stuff is gonna take place. At least that's what the Prologue tells us right from the get-go. Yep, some dude walks out on the stage to tell us not to be that fool laughing at serious events. We see what the Prologue was talking about when Buckingham gets taken away to jail after telling his pals that Cardinal Wolsey is ambitious and disloyal to the king. Buckingham's trial is over as fast as it began. Wolsey's in charge of the trial and brings Buckingham's Surveyor to testify against him. Queen Katherine thinks the whole thing is a little too neat and contrived, but King Henry believes Wolsey and sentences Buckingham to death. When the charge is treason, there's no messing around. Wolsey has a party, and everyone is invited, including Henry, who randomly shows up in disguise as a shepherd. It looks like his skills don't rest in costume design, though, because Wolsey sees right through it and uses it as another ego-boosting op. He flatters Henry, and Henry laps it up. He also meets a pretty girl named Anne Bullen. Never mind that he's married: Henry dances with Anne and kisses her, too. Word on the street is that Henry and Katherine are on the outs. He thinks she's awesome and everything, but she was married to his brother before he died, so Henry's not sure if their marriage is really above board. Well, that's convenient. There's even a rumor that Henry has brought in Cardinal Campeius from Rome to see if he can get a quickie divorce from Katherine and still be cool with the Pope. Meanwhile, Henry gives Anne a fancy-pants new title and gifts. Looks like the rumors are true. But Henry isn't the only one behind this divorce: Wolsey wants it to happen, too, so that he can get Katherine out of the way . He doesn't like Anne all that much, but he'll deal with that later. Katherine sees right through Wolsey's schemes to leave her high and dry, so she refuses to participate in the divorce trial. She calls Wolsey and his buddy Cardinal Campeius out on their lies. Nevertheless, the divorce is finalized, and Katherine's shipped off to Kimbolton. By this point, other nobles suspect Wolsey of wheeling and dealing, as well. They gather to come up with a plan to expose his trickery, but he takes care of that himself: it turns out that Henry has some letters that Wolsey wrote to the Pope encouraging him to denounce Anne . Whoops. Henry confronts Wolsey, and the guy's got nothing to say. He's out, and Henry's other fave, Cranmer, is in. Henry marries Anne and demotes Katherine to Princess Dowager. Anne is crowned, and everyone thinks she's the best-looking girl they've ever seen. We hear that Wolsey has died. Katherine wants to speak well of a dead guy, but she remembers all the mean stuff he did. She has a wacky dream, and then she herself dies. Anne gives birth to a baby girl. Henry wishes the baby were a boy, but he rushes to be by his wife's side. Meanwhile, citizens are complaining about Cranmer left and right--word on the street is that Gardiner has actually been spreading a lot of rumors about him. Even so, the council holds a meeting to figure out what to do with him. The general consensus is that he should just go to the Tower and rot, but at the last minute, Henry saves the day by defending the guy. Everyone kisses and makes up. Then Henry and Anne's new baby girl, Elizabeth, is christened. We're told that she'll bring great things for England and will be a fabulous queen. Then the Epilogue comes out on stage and says, "Sorry if that's not as good as you were hoping for, crowd." But hey, the women were virtuous, so what more could we ask for?