The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

I will not tarry; no, nor ever more

  Upon this business my appearance make

  In any of their courts.

  Exeunt Queen Katherine and her attendants

  KING HENRY

  Go thy ways, Kate.

  That man i’th’ world who shall report he has

  A better wife, let him in naught be trusted

  For speaking false in that. Thou art alone—

  If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,

  Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,

  Obeying in commanding, and thy parts

  Sovereign and pious else could speak thee out—

  The queen of earthly queens. She’s noble born,

  And like her true nobility she has

  Carried herself towards me.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Most gracious sir,

  In humblest manner I require your highness

  That it shall please you to declare in hearing

  Of all these ears—for where I am robbed and bound,

  There must I be unloosed, although not there

  At once and fully satisfied—whether ever I

  Did broach this business to your highness, or

  Laid any scruple in your way which might

  Induce you to the question on’t, or ever

  Have to you, but with thanks to God for such

  A royal lady, spake one the least word that might

  Be to the prejudice of her present state,

  Or touch of her good person?

  KING HENRY

  My lord Cardinal,

  I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,

  I free you from’t. You are not to be taught

  That you have many enemies that know not

  Why they are so, but, like to village curs,

  Bark when their fellows do. By some of these

  The Queen is put in anger. You’re excused.

  But will you be more justified? You ever

  Have wished the sleeping of this business, never desired

  It to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft,

  The passages made toward it. On my honour

  I speak my good lord Card’nal to this point,

  And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to’t,

  I will be bold with time and your attention.

  Then mark th‘inducement. Thus it came—give heed to’t.

  My conscience first received a tenderness,

  Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches uttered

  By th’ Bishop of Bayonne, then French Ambassador,

  Who had been hither sent on the debating

  A marriage ’twixt the Duke of Orléans and

  Our daughter Mary. I‘th’ progress of this business,

  Ere a determinate resolution, he—

  I mean the Bishop—did require a respite

  Wherein he might the King his lord advertise

  Whether our daughter were legitimate,

  Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,

  Sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite shook

  The bosom of my conscience, entered me,

  Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble

  The region of my breast; which forced such way

  That many mazed considerings did throng

  And prest in with this caution. First, methought

  I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had

  Commanded nature that my lady’s womb,

  If it conceived a male child by me, should

  Do no more offices of life to’t than

  The grave does yield to th’ dead. For her male issue

  Or died where they were made, or shortly after

  This world had aired them. Hence I took a thought

  This was a judgement on me that my kingdom,

  Well worthy the best heir o’th’ world, should not

  Be gladded in’t by me. Then follows that

  I weighed the danger which my realms stood in

  By this my issue’s fail, and that gave to me

  Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in

  The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer

  Toward this remedy, whereupon we are

  Now present here together—that’s to say

  I meant to rectify my conscience, which

  I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,

  By all the reverend fathers of the land

  And doctors learned. First I began in private

  With you, my lord of Lincoln. You remember

  How under my oppression I did reek

  When I first moved you.

  LINCOLN

  Very well, my liege.

  KING HENRY

  I have spoke long. Be pleased yourself to say

  How far you satisfied me.

  LINCOLN

  So please your highness,

  The question did at first so stagger me,

  Bearing a state of mighty moment in’t

  And consequence of dread, that I committed

  The daring’st counsel which I had to doubt,

  And did entreat your highness to this course

  Which you are running here.

  KING HENRY (to Canterbury)

  I then moved you,

  My lord of Canterbury, and got your leave

  To make this present summons. Unsolicited

  I left no reverend person in this court,

  But by particular consent proceeded

  Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on,

  For no dislike i‘th’ world against the person

  Of the good Queen, but the sharp thorny points

  Of my alleged reasons, drives this forward.

  Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life

  And kingly dignity, we are contented

  To wear our mortal state to come with her,

  Katherine, our queen, before the primest creature

  That’s paragoned o’th’ world.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  So please your highness,

  The Queen being absent, ’tis a needful fitness

  That we adjourn this court till further day.

  Meanwhile must be an earnest motion

  Made to the Queen to call back her appeal

  She intends unto his holiness.

  KING HENRY (aside)

  I may perceive

  These cardinals trifle with me. I abhor

  This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

  My learned and well-belovèd servant, Cranmer,

  Prithee return. With thy approach I know

  My comfort comes along. (Aloud) Break up the court.

  I say, set on.

  Exeunt in manner as they entered

  3.1 Enter Queen Katherine and her women, as at work

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.

  Sing, and disperse ’em if thou canst. Leave working.

  GENTLEWOMAN (sings)

  Orpheus with his lute made trees,

  And the mountain tops that freeze,

  Bow themselves when he did sing.

  To his music plants and flowers

  Ever sprung, as sun and showers

  There had made a lasting spring.

  Everything that heard him play,

  Even the billows of the sea,

  Hung their heads, and then lay by.

  In sweet music is such art,

  Killing care and grief of heart

  Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

  Enter ⌈Griffith,⌉ a gentleman

  QUEEN KATHERINE How now?

  ⌈GRIFFITH⌉

  An’t please your grace, the two great cardinals

  Wait in the presence.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Would they speak with me?

  ⌈GRIFFITH⌉

  They willed me say so, madam.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Pray their graces

  To come near.
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  ⌈Exit Griffith⌉

  What can be their business

  With me, a poor weak woman, fall’n from favour?

  I do not like their coming, now I think on’t;

  They should be good men, their affairs as righteous—

  But all hoods make not monks.

  Enter the two cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius, ⌈ushered by Griffith⌉

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Peace to your highness.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Your graces find me here part of a housewife—

  I would be all, against the worst may happen.

  What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords?

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw

  Into your private chamber, we shall give you

  The full cause of our coming.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Speak it here.

  There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience,

  Deserves a corner. Would all other women

  Could speak this with as free a soul as I do.

  My lords, I care not—so much I am happy

  Above a number—if my actions

  Were tried by ev’ry tongue, ev’ry eye saw ’em,

  Envy and base opinion set against ’em,

  I know my life so even. If your business

  Seek me out and that way I am wife in,

  Out with it boldly. Truth loves open dealing.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, Regina serenissima—

  QUEEN KATHERINE O, good my lord, no Latin.

  I am not such a truant since my coming

  As not to know the language I have lived in.

  A strange tongue makes my cause more strange

  suspicious—

  Pray, speak in English. Here are some will thank you,

  If you speak truth, for their poor mistress’ sake.

  Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal,

  The willing’st sin I ever yet committed

  May be absolved in English.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Noble lady,

  I am sorry my integrity should breed—so

  And service to his majesty and you—

  So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.

  We come not by the way of accusation,

  To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,

  Nor to betray you any way to sorrow—

  You have too much, good lady—but to know

  How you stand minded in the weighty difference

  Between the King and you, and to deliver,

  Like free and honest men, our just opinions

  And comforts to your cause.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  Most honoured madam,

  My lord of York, out of his noble nature,

  Zeal, and obedience he still bore your grace,

  Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure

  Both of his truth and him—which was too far—

  Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,

  His service and his counsel.

  QUEEN KATHERINE (aside)

  To betray me.

  (Aloud) My lords, I thank you both for your good

  wills.

  Ye speak like honest men—pray God ye prove so.

  But how to make ye suddenly an answer

  In such a point of weight, so near mine honour—

  More near my life, I fear—with my weak wit,

  And to such men of gravity and learning,

  In truth I know not. I was set at work

  Among my maids, full little—God knows—looking

  Either for such men or such business.

  For her sake that I have been—for I feel

  The last fit of my greatness—good your graces,

  Let me have time and counsel for my cause.

  Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Madam, you wrong the King’s love with these fears.

  Your hopes and friends are infinite.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  In England

  But little for my profit. Can you think, lords,

  That any Englishman dare give me counsel,

  Or be a known friend ’gainst his highness’ pleasure—

  Though he be grown so desperate to be honest—

  And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends,

  They that must weigh out my afflictions,

  They that my trust must grow to, live not here.

  They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,

  In mine own country, lords.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  I would your grace

  Would leave your griefs and take my counsel.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  How, sir?

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  Put your main cause into the King’s protection.

  He’s loving and most gracious. ’Twill be much

  Both for your honour better and your cause,

  For if the trial of the law o’ertake ye

  You’ll part away disgraced.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the Queen) He tells you rightly.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Ye tell me what ye wish for both—my ruin.

  Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye!

  Heaven is above all yet—there sits a judge

  That no king can corrupt.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  Your rage mistakes us.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  The more shame for ye! Holy men I thought ye,

  Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues—

  But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.

  Mend ’em, for shame, my lords! Is this your comfort?

  The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,

  A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned?

  I will not wish ye half my miseries—

  I have more charity. But say I warned ye.

  Take heed, for, heaven’s sake take heed, lest at once

  The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Madam, this is a mere distraction.

  You turn the good we offer into envy.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye,

  And all such false professors. Would you have me—

  If you have any justice, any pity,

  If ye be anything but churchmen’s habits—

  Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?

  Alas, he’s banished me his bed already—

  His love, too, long ago. I am old, my lords,

  And all the fellowship I hold now with him

  Is only my obedience. What can happen

  To me above this wretchedness? All your studies

  Make me accursed like this.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  Your fears are worse.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Have I lived thus long—let me speak myself,

  Since virtue finds no friends—a wife, a true one?

  A woman, I dare say, without vainglory,

  Never yet branded with suspicion?

  Have I with all my full affections

  Still met the King, loved him next heav‘n, obeyed him,

  Been out of fondness superstitious to him,

  Almost forgot my prayers to content him?

  And am I thus rewarded? ’Tis not well, lords.

  Bring me a constant woman to her husband,

  One that ne’er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure,

  And to that woman when she has done most,

  Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty

  To give up willingly that noble title

  Your master we
d me to. Nothing but death

  Shall e’er divorce my dignities.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  Pray, hear me.

  QUEEN KATHERINE

  Would I had never trod this English earth,

  Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it.

  Ye have angels’ faces, but heaven knows your hearts.

  What will become of me now, wretched lady?

  I am the most unhappy woman living.

  (To her women) Alas, poor wenches, where are now

  your fortunes?

  Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity,

  No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me?

  Almost no grave allowed me? Like the lily,

  That once was mistress of the field and flourished,

  I’ll hang my head and perish.

  CARDINAL WOLSEY

  If your grace

  Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,

  You’d feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady,

  Upon what cause, wrong you? Alas, our places,

  The way of our profession, is against it.

  We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow ’em.

  For goodness’ sake, consider what you do,

  How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly

  Grow from the King’s acquaintance by this carriage.

  The hearts of princes kiss obedience,

  So much they love it, but to stubborn spirits

  They swell and grow as terrible as storms.

  I know you have a gentle noble temper,

  A soul as even as a calm. Pray, think us

  Those we profess—peacemakers, friends, and servants.

  CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

  Madam, you’ll find it so. You wrong your virtues

  With these weak women’s fears. A noble spirit,

  As yours was put into you, ever casts

  Such doubts as false coin from it. The King loves you.

  Beware you lose it not. For us, if you please

  To trust us in your business, we are ready

  To use our utmost studies in your service.

  QUEENS KATHERINE

  Do what ye will, my lords, and pray forgive me.

  If I have used myself unmannerly,

  You know I am a woman, lacking wit

  To make a seemly answer to such persons.

  Pray do my service to his majesty.

  He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers

  While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,

  Bestow your counsels on me. She now begs

  That little thought, when she set footing here,

  She should have bought her dignities so dear.

  Exeunt

  3.2 Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, Lord Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain

  NORFOLK

  If you will now unite in your complaints,

  And force them with a constancy, the Cardinal