Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  Of our despised 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

  Worse than the scaring bell, when the brown wench

  Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  How much, methinks, I could despise this man,

  But that I am bound in charity against it!

  Norfolk

  Those articles, my lord, are in the king’s hand:

  But, thus much, they are foul ones.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  So much fairer

  And spotless shall mine innocence arise,

  When the king knows my truth.

  Surrey

  This cannot save you:

  I thank my memory, I yet remember

  Some of these articles; and out they shall.

  Now, if you can blush and cry ‘guilty,’ cardinal,

  You’ll show a little honesty.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Speak on, sir;

  I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

  It is to see a nobleman want manners.

  Surrey

  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

  You maim’d the jurisdiction of all bishops.

  Norfolk

  Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else

  To foreign princes, ‘Ego et Rex meus’

  Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king

  To be your servant.

  Suffolk

  Then that, without the knowledge

  Either of king or council, when you went

  Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold

  To carry into Flanders the great seal.

  Surrey

  Item, you sent a large commission

  To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude,

  Without the king’s will or the state’s allowance,

  A league between his highness and Ferrara.

  Suffolk

  That, out of mere ambition, you have caused

  Your holy hat to be stamp’d on the king’s coin.

  Surrey

  Then that you have sent innumerable substance —

  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;

  Which, since they are of you, and odious,

  I will not taint my mouth with.

  Chamberlain

  O my lord,

  Press not a falling man too far! ’tis virtue:

  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.

  Surrey

  I forgive him.

  Suffolk

  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 praemunire,

  That therefore such a writ be sued 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.

  Norfolk

  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.

  So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.

  Exeunt all but Cardinal Wolsey

  Cardinal Wolsey

  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

  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

  His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,

  And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

  Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

  This many summers in a sea of glory,

  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.

  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,

  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.

  Enter Cromwell, and stands amazed

  Why, how now, Cromwell!

  Cromwell

  I have no power to speak, sir.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  What, amazed

  At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder

  A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,

  I am fall’n indeed.

  Cromwell

  How does your grace?

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Why, well;

  Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.

  I know myself now; and I feel within me

  A peace above all earthly dignities,

  A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured 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:

  O, ’tis a burthen, Cromwell, ’tis a burthen

  Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven!

  Cromwell

  I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,

  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?

  Cromwell

  The heaviest and the worst

  Is your displeasure with the king.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  God bless him!

  Cromwell

  The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen

  Lord chancellor in your place.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  That’s somewhat sudden:

  But he’s a learned man. May he continue

  Long in his highness’ favour, and do justice

  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?

  Cromwell

  That Cranmer is return’d with welcome,

  Install’d lord archbishop of Canterbury.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  That’s news indeed.

  Cromwell

  Last, that the Lady Anne,

  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.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  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,


  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;

  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

  Thy hopeful service perish too: good Cromwell,

  Neglect him not; make use now, and provide

  For thine own future safety.

  Cromwell

  O my lord,

  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.

  The king shall have my service: but my prayers

  For ever and for ever shall be yours.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear

  In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,

  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

  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 wreck, to rise in;

  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,

  The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?

  Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;

  Corruption wins not more than honesty.

  Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

  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;

  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

  I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!

  Had I but served my God with half the zeal

  I served my king, he would not in mine age

  Have left me naked to mine enemies.

  Cromwell

  Good sir, have patience.

  Cardinal Wolsey

  So I have. Farewell

  The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

  Exeunt

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. A STREET IN WESTMINSTER.

  Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another

  First Gentleman

  You’re well met once again.

  Second Gentleman

  So are you.

  First Gentleman

  You come to take your stand here, and behold

  The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?

  Second Gentleman

  ’Tis all my business. At our last encounter,

  The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

  First Gentleman

  ’Tis very true: but that time offer’d sorrow;

  This, general joy.

  Second Gentleman

  ’Tis well: the citizens,

  I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds —

  As, let ’em have their rights, they are ever forward —

  In celebration of this day with shows,

  Pageants and sights of honour.

  First Gentleman

  Never greater,

  Nor, I’ll assure you, better taken, sir.

  Second Gentleman

  May I be bold to ask at what that contains,

  That paper in your hand?

  First Gentleman

  Yes; ’tis the list

  Of those that claim their offices this day

  By custom of the coronation.

  The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims

  To be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,

  He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest.

  Second Gentleman

  I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs,

  I should have been beholding to your paper.

  But, I beseech you, what’s become of Katharine,

  The princess dowager? how goes her business?

  First Gentleman

  That I can tell you too. The Archbishop

  Of Canterbury, accompanied with other

  Learned and reverend fathers of his order,

  Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off

  From Ampthill where the princess lay; to which

  She was often cited by them, but appear’d not:

  And, to be short, for not appearance and

  The king’s late scruple, by the main assent

  Of all these learned men she was divorced,

  And the late marriage made of none effect

  Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,

  Where she remains now sick.

  Second Gentleman

  Alas, good lady!

  Trumpets

  The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.

  Hautboys

  The Order Of The Coronation

  1. A lively flourish of Trumpets.

  2. Then, two Judges.

  3. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.

  4. Choristers, singing.

  Music

  5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.

  6. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl’s coronet. Collars of Ss.

  7. Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of Ss.

  8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, Queen Anne in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.

  9. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing Queen Anne’s train.

  10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

  They pass over the stage in order and state

  Second Gentleman

  A royal train, believe me. These I know:

  Who’s that that bears the sceptre?

  First Gentleman

  Marquess Dorset:

  And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.

  Second Gentleman

  A bold brave gentleman. That should be

  The Duke of Suffolk?

  First Gentleman

  ’Tis the same: high-steward.

  Second Gentleman

  And that my Lord of Norfolk?

  First Gentleman

  Yes;

  Second Gentleman

  Heaven bless thee!

  Looking on Queen Anne

  Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look’d on.

  Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;

  Our king has all the Indies in his arms,

  And more and richer, when he strains that lady:

  I cannot blame his conscience.

  First Gentleman

  They that bear

  The cloth of honour over her, are four barons

  Of the Cinque-ports.

  Second Gentleman

  Those men are happy; a
nd so are all are near her.

  I take it, she that carries up the train

  Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.

  First Gentleman

  It is; and all the rest are countesses.

  Second Gentleman

  Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;

  And sometimes falling ones.

  First Gentleman

  No more of that.

  Exit procession, and then a great flourish of trumpets

  Enter a third Gentleman

  First Gentleman

  God save you, sir! where have you been broiling?

  Third Gentleman

  Among the crowd i’ the Abbey; where a finger

  Could not be wedged in more: I am stifled

  With the mere rankness of their joy.

  Second Gentleman

  You saw

  The ceremony?

  Third Gentleman

  That I did.

  First Gentleman

  How was it?

  Third Gentleman

  Well worth the seeing.

  Second Gentleman

  Good sir, speak it to us.

  Third Gentleman

  As well as I am able. The rich stream

  Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen

  To a prepared place in the choir, fell off

  A distance from her; while her grace sat down

  To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,

  In a rich chair of state, opposing freely

  The beauty of her person to the people.

  Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman

  That ever lay by man: which when the people

  Had the full view of, such a noise arose

  As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,

  As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks —

  Doublets, I think,— flew up; and had their faces

  Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy

  I never saw before. Great-bellied women,

  That had not half a week to go, like rams

  In the old time of war, would shake the press,

  And make ’em reel before ’em. No man living

  Could say ‘This is my wife’ there; all were woven

  So strangely in one piece.

  Second Gentleman

  But, what follow’d?

  Third Gentleman

  At length her grace rose, and with modest paces

  Came to the altar; where she kneel’d, and saint-like

  Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray’d devoutly.

  Then rose again and bow’d her to the people:

  When by the Archbishop of Canterbury

  She had all the royal makings of a queen;

  As holy oil, Edward Confessor’s crown,

  The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems

  Laid nobly on her: which perform’d, the choir,

  With all the choicest music of the kingdom,

  Together sung ‘Te Deum.’ So she parted,

  And with the same full state paced back again