Act III. Scene II. The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth. Craig, W.J., ed. 1914. The Oxford Shakespeare

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CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD · DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914.

The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth

Act III. Scene II.

Antechamber to the KING’S Apartment.

Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints,
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal	4
Cannot stand under them: if you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise
But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces
With these you bear already.	8
Sur. I am joyful
To meet the least occasion that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be reveng’d on him.	12
Suf. Which of the peers
Have uncontemn’d gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,	16
Out of himself?
Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures:
What he deserves of you and me, I know;
What we can do to him,—though now the time	20
Gives way to us,—I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him, for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in’s tongue.	24
Nor. O! fear him not;
His spell in that is out: the king hath found
Matter against him that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he’s settled,	28
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Sur. Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.	32
Nor. Believe it, this is true:
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears
As I would wish mine enemy.	36
Sur. How came
His practices to light?
Suf. Most strangely.
Sur. O! how? how?	40
Suf. The cardinal’s letter to the pope miscarried,
And came to the eye o’ the king; wherein was read,
That the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o’ the divorce; for if	44
It did take place, ‘I do,’ quoth he, ‘perceive
My king is tangled in affection to
A creature of the queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.’
Sur. Has the king this?	48
Suf. Believe it.
Sur. Will this work?
Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he coasts
And hedges his own way. But in this point	52
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
After his patient’s death: the king already
Hath married the fair lady.
Sur. Would he had!	56
Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord!
For I profess, you have it.
Sur. Now all my joy
Trace the conjunction!	60
Suf. My amen to’t!
Nor. All men’s.
Suf. There’s order given for her coronation:
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left	64
To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall	68
In it be memoriz’d.
Sur. But will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal’s?
The Lord forbid!	72
Nor. Marry, amen!
Suf. No, no;
There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius	76
Is stol’n away to Rome; hath ta’en no leave;
Has left the cause o’ the king unhandled; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you	80
The king cried Ha! at this.
Cham. Now, God incense him,
And let him cry Ha! louder.
Nor. But, my lord,	84
When returns Cranmer?
Suf. He is return’d in his opinions, which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges	88
Almost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish’d, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call’d queen, but princess dowager,	92
And widow to Prince Arthur.
Nor. This same Cranmer’s
A worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much pain
In the king’s business.	96
Suf. He has; and we shall see him
For it an archbishop.
Nor. So I hear.
Suf. ’Tis so.	100
The cardinal!

Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.
Nor. Observe, observe; he’s moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell,	104
Gave’t you the king?
Crom. To his own hand, in his bedchamber.
Wol. Look’d he o’ the inside of the paper?
Crom. Presently	108
He did unseal them; and the first he view’d,
He did it with a serious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance. You he bade
Attend him here this morning.	112
Wol. Is he ready
To come abroad?
Crom. I think, by this he is.
Wol. Leave me awhile. [Exit CROMWELL.	116
[Aside.] It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,
The French King’s sister; he shall marry her.
Anne Bullen! No; I’ll no Anne Bullens for him:
There’s more in’t than fair visage. Bullen!	120
No, we’ll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
Nor. He’s discontented.
Suf. May be he hears the king	124
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur. Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice!
Wol. The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,	128
To be her mistress’ mistress! the queen’s queen!
This candle burns not clear: ’tis I must snuff it;
Then, out it goes. What though I know her virtuous
And well deserving? yet I know her for	132
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i’ the bosom of
Our hard-rul’d king. Again, there is sprung up
A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one	136
Hath crawl’d into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Nor. He is vex’d at something.
Sur. I would ’twere something that would fret the string,	140
The master-cord on’s heart!

Enter the KING, reading a schedule; and LOVELL.
Suf. The king, the king!
K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated	144
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour
Seems to flow from him! How, i’ the name of thrift,
Does he rake this together? Now, my lords,
Saw you the cardinal?	148
Nor. My lord, we have
Stood here observing him; some strange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,	152
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight
Springs out into fast gait; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures	156
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen. It may well be:
There is a mutiny in’s mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,	160
As I requir’d; and wot you what I found
There, on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing;
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,	164
Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, which
I find at such a proud rate that it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Nor. It’s heaven’s will:	168
Some spirit put this paper in the packet
To bless your eye withal.
K. Hen. If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,	172
And fix’d on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering. [He takes his seat, and whispers LOVELL, who goes to WOLSEY.	176
Wol. Heaven forgive me!
Ever God bless your highness!
K. Hen. Good my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory	180
Of your best graces in your mind, the which
You were now running o’er: you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that	184
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol. Sir,
For holy offices I have a time; a time	188
To think upon the part of business which
I bear i’ the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which perforce
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,	192
Must give my tendance to.
K. Hen. You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well	196
With my well saying!
K. Hen. ’Tis well said again;
And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov’d you:	200
He said he did; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone
Employ’d you where high profits might come home,	204
But par’d my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Wol. [Aside.] What should this mean?
Sur. [Aside.] The Lord increase this business!	208
K. Hen. Have I not made you
The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me
If what I now pronounce you have found true;
And if you may confess it, say withal,	212
If you are bound to us or no. What say you?
Wol. My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,
Shower’d on me daily, have been more than could
My studied purposes requite; which went	216
Beyond all man’s endeavours: my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet fil’d with my abilities. Mine own ends
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed	220
To the good of your most sacred person and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap’d upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,	224
My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,
Which ever has and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.
K. Hen. Fairly answer’d;	228
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated; the honour of it
Does pay the act of it, as, i’ the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume	232
That as my hand has open’d bounty to you,
My heart dropp’d love, my power rain’d honour, more
On you than any; so your hand and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,	236
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As ’twere in love’s particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
Wol. I do profess,	240
That for your highness’ good I ever labour’d
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be.
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul; though perils did	244
Abound as thick as thought could make’em, and
Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,	248
And stand unshaken yours.
K. Hen. ’Tis nobly spoken.
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open’t. Read o’er this; [Giving him papers.	252
And after, this: and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have. [Exit KING, frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY; the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whispering.
Wol. What should this mean?
What sudden anger’s this? how have I reap’d it?	256
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap’d from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall’d him;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;	260
I fear, the story of his anger. ’Tis so;
This paper has undone me! ’Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,	264
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!
Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?	268
No new device to beat this from his brains?
I know ’twill stir him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune
Will bring me off again. What’s this?—‘To the Pope!’	272
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to’s holiness. Nay then, farewell!
I have touch’d the highest point of all my greatness;
And from that full meridian of my glory,	276
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.	280
Nor. Hear the king’s pleasure, cardinal: who commands you
To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchester’s,	284
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol. Stay,
Where’s your commission, lord? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.	288
Suf. Who dare cross’em,
Bearing the king’s will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will or words to do it,
I mean your malice, know, officious lords,	292
I dare and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy:
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton	296
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin
Follow your envious courses, men of malice;
You have Christian warrant for ’em, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal	300
You ask with such a violence, the king—
Mine and your master—with his own hand gave me;
Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours
During my life; and to confirm his goodness,	304
Tied it by letters-patents: now who’ll take it?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol. It must be himself then.
Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.	308
Wol. Proud lord, thou liest:
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Sur. Thy ambition,	312
Thou scarlet sin, 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—	316
Weigh’d not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland,
Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav’st him;	320
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv’d him with an axe.
Wol. This and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,	324
I answer is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts: how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.	328
If I lov’d many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour,
That in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,	332
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.
Sur. By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel	336
My sword i’ the life-blood of thee else, My lords,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,	340
Farewell nobility; let his Grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap like larks.
Wol. All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.	344
Sur. Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the land’s wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,	348
You writ to the pope against the king; your goodness,
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.
My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state	352
Of our despis’d nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life; I’ll startle you	356
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this man,
But that I am bound in charity against it!	360
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king’s hand;
But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol. So much fairer
And spotless shall mine innocence arise	364
When the king knows my truth.
Sur. This cannot save you:
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles; and out they shall.	368
Now, if you can blush, and cry ‘guilty,’ cardinal,
You’ll show a little honesty.
Wol. Speak on, sir;
I dare your worst objections; if I blush,	372
It is to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur. I had rather want those than my head. Have at you!
First, that, without the king’s assent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power	376
You maim’d the jurisdiction of all bishops.
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
Was still inscrib’d; in which you brought the king	380
To be your servant.
Suf. Then, that without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold	384
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,
Without the king’s will or the state’s allowance,	388
A league between his highness and Ferrara.
Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus’d
Your holy hat to be stamp’d on the king’s coin.
Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable substance,—	392
By what means got I leave to your own conscience,—
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;	396
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham. O my lord!
Press not a falling man too far; ’tis virtue:	400
His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.
Sur. I forgive him.	404
Suf. Lord Cardinal, the king’s further pleasure is,
Because all those things you have done of late,
By your power legatine, within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a prœmunire,	408
That therefore such a writ be su’d against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king’s protection. This is my charge.	412
Nor. And so we’ll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you.	416
So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal. [Exeunt all except WOLSEY.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me.
Farewell a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth	420
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely	424
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur’d,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,	428
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.	432
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new open’d. O! how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,	436
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.	440

Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed.
Why, how now, Cromwell!
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
Wol. What! amaz’d	444
At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fall’n indeed.
Crom. How does your Grace?	448
Wol. Why, well;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,	452
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur’d me,
I humbly thank his Grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin’d pillars, out of pity taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour:	456
O! ’tis a burden, Cromwell, ’tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Crom. I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.
Wol. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,—	460
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,—
To endure more miseries and greater far.
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?	464
Crom. The heaviest and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol. God bless him!
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen	468
Lord Chancellor in your place.
Wol. That’s somewhat sudden:
But he’s a learned man. May he continue
Long in his highness’ favour, and do justice	472
For truth’s sake and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans’ tears wept on ’em!
What more?	476
Crom. That Cranmer is return’d with welcome,
Install’d Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That’s news indeed.
Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,	480
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was view’d in open, as his queen,
Going to chapel; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.	484
Wol. There was the weight that pull’d me down. O Cromwell!
The king has gone beyond me: all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever.
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,	488
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fall’n man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: seek the king;—	492
That sun, I pray, may never set!—I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him—
I know his noble nature—not to let	496
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.
Crom. O my lord!	500
Must I then, leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.	504
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever and for ever, shall be yours.
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc’d me,	508
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let’s dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention	512
Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee,
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in;	516
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss’d it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin’d me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,	520
The image of his Maker, hope to win by’t?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,	524
To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,
Thy God’s, and truth’s; then if thou fall’st, O Cromwell!
Thou fall’st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;	528
And,—prithee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; ’tis the king’s: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven is all	532
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!
Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal
I serv’d my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.	536
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol. So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. [Exeunt.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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