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
Out of himself?
Chamberlain
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
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.
Norfolk
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,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Surrey
Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.
Norfolk
Believe it, this is true:
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded wherein he appears
As I would wish mine enemy.
Surrey
How came
His practises to light?
Suffolk
Most strangely.
Surrey
O, how, how?
Suffolk
The cardinal’s letters to the pope miscarried,
And came to the eye o’ the king: wherein was read,
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o’ the divorce; for if
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.’
Surrey
Has the king this?
Suffolk
Believe it.
Surrey
Will this work?
Chamberlain
The king in this perceives him, how he coasts
And hedges his own way. But in this point
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
After his patient’s death: the king already
Hath married the fair lady.
Surrey
Would he had!
Suffolk
May you be happy in your wish, my lord
For, I profess, you have it.
Surrey
Now, all my joy
Trace the conjunction!
Suffolk
My amen to’t!
Norfolk
All men’s!
Suffolk
There’s order given for her coronation:
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
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
In it be memorised.
Surrey
But, will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal’s?
The Lord forbid!
Norfolk
Marry, amen!
Suffolk
No, no;
There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
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
The king cried Ha! at this.
Chamberlain
Now, God incense him,
And let him cry Ha! louder!
Norfolk
But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer?
Suffolk
He is return’d in his opinions; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
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
And widow to Prince Arthur.
Norfolk
This same Cranmer’s
A worthy fellow, and hath ta’en much pain
In the king’s business.
Suffolk
He has; and we shall see him
For it an archbishop.
Norfolk
So I hear.
Suffolk
’Tis so.
The cardinal!
Enter Cardinal Wolsey and Cromwell
Norfolk
Observe, observe, he’s moody.
Cardinal Wolsey
The packet, Cromwell.
Gave’t you the king?
Cromwell
To his own hand, in’s bedchamber.
Cardinal Wolsey
Look’d he o’ the inside of the paper?
Cromwell
Presently
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.
Cardinal Wolsey
Is he ready
To come abroad?
Cromwell
I think, by this he is.
Cardinal Wolsey
Leave me awhile.
Exit Cromwell
Aside
It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon,
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!
No, we’ll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke!
Norfolk
He’s discontented.
Suffolk
May be, he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.
Surrey
Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice!
Cardinal Wolsey
[Aside] The late queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter,
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
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i’ the bosom of
Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl’d into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Norfolk
He is vex’d at something.
Surrey
I would ’twere something that would fret the string,
The master-cord on’s heart!
Enter King Henry VIII, reading of a schedule, and Lovell
Suffolk
The king, the king!
King Henry VIII
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
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?
Norfolk
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,
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
We have seen him set hims
elf.
King Henry VIII
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in’s mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I required: 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,
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which
I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Norfolk
It’s heaven’s will:
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.
King Henry VIII
If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,
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.
King Henry VIII takes his seat; whispers Lovell, who goes to Cardinal Wolsey
Cardinal Wolsey
Heaven forgive me!
Ever God bless your highness!
King Henry VIII
Good my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory
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
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Cardinal Wolsey
Sir,
For holy offices I have a time; a time
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,
Must give my tendence to.
King Henry VIII
You have said well.
Cardinal Wolsey
And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!
King Henry VIII
’Tis well said again;
And ’tis a kind of good deed to say well:
And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you:
His 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,
But pared my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Cardinal Wolsey
[Aside] What should this mean?
Surrey
[Aside] The Lord increase this business!
King Henry VIII
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,
If you are bound to us or no. What say you?
Cardinal Wolsey
My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,
Shower’d on me daily, have been more than could
My studied purposes requite; which went
Beyond all man’s endeavours: my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet filed with my abilities: mine own ends
Have been mine so that evermore they pointed
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,
My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,
Which ever has and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.
King Henry VIII
Fairly answer’d;
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
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,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As ’twere in love’s particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
Cardinal Wolsey
I do profess
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
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,
And stand unshaken yours.
King Henry VIII
’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
And after, this: and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.
Exit King Henry VIII, frowning upon Cardinal Wolsey: the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering
Cardinal Wolsey
What should this mean?
What sudden anger’s this? how have I reap’d it?
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;
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,
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?
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!’
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,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation m the evening,
And no man see me more.
Re-enter to Cardinal Wolsey, Norfolk and Suffolk, Surrey, and the Chamberlain
Norfolk
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,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Cardinal Wolsey
Stay:
Where’s your commission, lords? words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.
Suffolk
Who dare cross ’em,
Bearing the king’s will from his mouth expressly?
Cardinal Wolsey
Till I find more than will or words to do it,
I mean your malice, know, officious lords,
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
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,
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,
Tied it by letters-patents: now, who’ll take it?
Surrey
The king, that gave it.
Cardinal Wolsey
It must be himself, then.
Surrey
Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Cardinal Wolsey
Proud lord, thou liest:
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Surrey
Thy ambition,
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,
Weigh’d not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland;
Far from his succor, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolved him with an axe.
Cardinal Wolsey
This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
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.
If I loved 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,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.
Surrey
By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel
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,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap like larks.
Cardinal Wolsey
All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.
Surrey
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
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
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