KING HENRY VIII


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING HENRY
the Eighth	(KING HENRY VIII:)

CARDINAL WOLSEY:

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS:

CAPUCIUS	Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V

CRANMER	Archbishop of Canterbury.

DUKE OF NORFOLK	(NORFOLK:)

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM	(BUCKINGHAM:)

DUKE OF SUFFOLK	(SUFFOLK:)

EARL OF SURREY	(SURREY:)

Lord Chamberlain	(Chamberlain:)

Lord Chancellor	(Chancellor:)

GARDINER	Bishop of Winchester.

	Bishop of Lincoln. (LINCOLN:)

LORD ABERGAVENNY	(ABERGAVENNY:)

LORD SANDS	(SANDS:)

SIR HENRY
GUILDFORD	(GUILDFORD:)

SIR THOMAS LOVELL	(LOVELL:)

SIR ANTHONY DENNY	(DENNY:)

SIR NICHOLAS VAUX	(VAUX:)

	Secretaries to Wolsey.
	(First Secretary:)
	(Second Secretary:)

CROMWELL	Servant to Wolsey.

GRIFFITH	Gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine.

	Three Gentlemen.
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(Third Gentleman:)

DOCTOR BUTTS	Physician to the King.

	Garter King-at-Arms. (Garter:)

	Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. (Surveyor:)

BRANDON:

	A Sergeant-at-Arms. (Sergeant:)

	Door-keeper of the Council-chamber. Porter, (Porter:)
	and his Man. (Man:)

	Page to Gardiner. (Boy:)
	A Crier. (Crier:)

QUEEN KATHARINE	(QUEEN KATHARINE:)  Wife to King Henry, afterwards
	divorced. (KATHARINE:)

ANNE BULLEN	(ANNE:) her Maid of Honour, afterwards Queen. (QUEEN ANNE:)

	An old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen. (Old Lady:)

PATIENCE	woman to Queen Katharine.

	Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women
	attending upon the Queen; Scribes, Officers, Guards,
	and other Attendants.
	Spirits.

	(Scribe:)
	(Keeper:)
	(Servant:)
	(Messenger:)


SCENE	London; Westminster; Kimbolton




	KING HENRY VIII


	THE PROLOGUE


	I come no more to make you laugh: things now,
	That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
	Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
	Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
	We now present. Those that can pity, here
	May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;
	The subject will deserve it. Such as give
	Their money out of hope they may believe,
	May here find truth too. Those that come to see
	Only a show or two, and so agree
	The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
	I'll undertake may see away their shilling
	Richly in two short hours. Only they
	That come to hear a merry bawdy play,
	A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
	In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,
	Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know,
	To rank our chosen truth with such a show
	As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
	Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
	To make that only true we now intend,
	Will leave us never an understanding friend.
	Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
	The first and happiest hearers of the town,
	Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see
	The very persons of our noble story
	As they were living; think you see them great,
	And follow'd with the general throng and sweat
	Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see
	How soon this mightiness meets misery:
	And, if you can be merry then, I'll say
	A man may weep upon his wedding-day.




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT I



SCENE I	London. An ante-chamber in the palace.


	[Enter NORFOLK at one door; at the other, BUCKINGHAM
	and ABERGAVENNY]

BUCKINGHAM	Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done
	Since last we saw in France?

NORFOLK	I thank your grace,
	Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer
	Of what I saw there.

BUCKINGHAM	An untimely ague
	Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when
	Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
	Met in the vale of Andren.

NORFOLK	'Twixt Guynes and Arde:
	I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;
	Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
	In their embracement, as they grew together;
	Which had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd
	Such a compounded one?

BUCKINGHAM	All the whole time
	I was my chamber's prisoner.

NORFOLK	Then you lost
	The view of earthly glory: men might say,
	Till this time pomp was single, but now married
	To one above itself. Each following day
	Became the next day's master, till the last
	Made former wonders its. To-day the French,
	All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
	Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they
	Made Britain India: every man that stood
	Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
	As cherubins, all guilt: the madams too,
	Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear
	The pride upon them, that their very labour
	Was to them as a painting: now this masque
	Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night
	Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,
	Equal 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 wag his tongue in censure. When these suns--
	For so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged
	The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
	Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,
	Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
	That Bevis was believed.

BUCKINGHAM	O, you go far.

NORFOLK	As I belong to worship and affect
	In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
	Would by a good discourser lose some life,
	Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;
	To the disposing of it nought rebell'd.
	Order gave each thing view; the office did
	Distinctly his full function.

BUCKINGHAM	Who did guide,
	I mean, who set the body and the limbs
	Of this great sport together, as you guess?

NORFOLK	One, certes, that promises no element
	In such a business.

BUCKINGHAM	I pray you, who, my lord?

NORFOLK	All this was order'd by the good discretion
	Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

BUCKINGHAM	The devil speed him! no man's pie 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 bulk
	Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun
	And keep it from the earth.

NORFOLK	Surely, sir,
	There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
	For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace
	Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon
	For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
	For eminent assistants; but, spider-like,
	Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,
	The force of his own merit makes his way
	A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
	A place next to the king.

ABERGAVENNY	I cannot tell
	What heaven hath given him,--let some graver eye
	Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
	Peep through each part of him: whence has he that,
	If not from hell? the devil is a niggard,
	Or has given all before, and he begins
	A new hell in himself.

BUCKINGHAM	Why the devil,
	Upon this French going out, took he upon him,
	Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
	Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
	Of all the gentry; for the most part such
	To whom as great a charge as little honour
	He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,
	The honourable board of council out,
	Must fetch him in the papers.

ABERGAVENNY	I do know
	Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
	By this so sickened their estates, that never
	They shall abound as formerly.

BUCKINGHAM	O, many
	Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
	For this great journey. What did this vanity
	But minister communication of
	A most poor issue?

NORFOLK	                  Grievingly I think,
	The peace between the French and us not values
	The cost that did conclude it.

BUCKINGHAM	Every man,
	After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
	A thing inspired; and, not consulting, broke
	Into a general prophecy; That this tempest,
	Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
	The sudden breach on't.

NORFOLK	Which is budded out;
	For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd
	Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.

ABERGAVENNY	Is it therefore
	The ambassador is silenced?

NORFOLK	Marry, is't.

ABERGAVENNY	A proper title of a peace; and purchased
	At a superfluous rate!

BUCKINGHAM	Why, all this business
	Our reverend cardinal carried.

NORFOLK	Like it your grace,
	The state takes notice of the private difference
	Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you--
	And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
	Honour and plenteous safety--that you read
	The cardinal's 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 revengeful, and I know his sword
	Hath a sharp edge: it's long and, 't may be said,
	It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend,
	Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
	You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock
	That I advise your shunning.

	[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him,
	certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with
	papers. CARDINAL WOLSEY in his passage fixeth his
	eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full
	of disdain]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?
	Where's his examination?

First Secretary	Here, so please you.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Is he in person ready?

First Secretary	Ay, please your grace.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
	Shall lessen this big look.

	[Exeunt CARDINAL WOLSEY and his Train]

BUCKINGHAM	This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I
	Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best
	Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
	Outworths a noble's blood.

NORFOLK	What, are you chafed?
	Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only
	Which your disease requires.

BUCKINGHAM	I read in's looks
	Matter against me; and his eye reviled
	Me, as his abject object: at this instant
	He bores me with some trick: he's gone to the king;
	I'll follow and outstare him.

NORFOLK	Stay, my lord,
	And let your reason with your choler question
	What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills
	Requires slow pace at first: anger is like
	A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
	Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
	Can advise me like you: be to yourself
	As you would to your friend.

BUCKINGHAM	I'll to the king;
	And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
	This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim
	There's difference in no persons.

NORFOLK	Be advised;
	Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
	That it do singe yourself: we may outrun,
	By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
	And lose by over-running. Know you not,
	The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er,
	In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised:
	I say again, there is no English soul
	More stronger to direct you than yourself,
	If with the sap of reason you would quench,
	Or but allay, the fire of passion.

BUCKINGHAM	Sir,
	I am thankful to you; and I'll go 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 proofs as clear as founts in July when
	We see each grain of gravel, I do know
	To be corrupt and treasonous.

NORFOLK	Say not 'treasonous.'

BUCKINGHAM	To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong
	As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
	Or wolf, or both,--for he is equal ravenous
	As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief
	As able to perform't; his mind and place
	Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally--
	Only to show his pomp as well in France
	As here at home, suggests the king our master
	To this last costly treaty, the interview,
	That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
	Did break i' the rinsing.

NORFOLK	Faith, and so it did.

BUCKINGHAM	Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
	The articles o' the combination drew
	As himself pleased; and they were ratified
	As he cried 'Thus let be': to as much end
	As give a crutch to the dead: but our count-cardinal
	Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
	Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,--
	Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
	To the old dam, treason,--Charles the emperor,
	Under pretence to see the queen his aunt--
	For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
	To whisper Wolsey,--here makes visitation:
	His fears were, that the interview betwixt
	England and France might, through their amity,
	Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
	Peep'd harms that menaced him: he privily
	Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,--
	Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor
	Paid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted
	Ere it was ask'd; but when the way was made,
	And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,
	That he would please to alter the king's course,
	And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
	As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal
	Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
	And for his own advantage.

NORFOLK	I am sorry
	To hear this of him; and could wish he were
	Something mistaken in't.

BUCKINGHAM	No, not a syllable:
	I  do pronounce him in that very shape
	He shall appear in proof.

	[Enter BRANDON, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and
	two or three of the Guard]

BRANDON	Your office, sergeant; execute it.

Sergeant	Sir,
	My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
	Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
	Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
	Of our most sovereign king.

BUCKINGHAM	Lo, you, my lord,
	The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish
	Under device and practise.

BRANDON	I am sorry
	To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
	The business present: 'tis his highness' pleasure
	You shall to the Tower.

BUCKINGHAM	It will help me nothing
	To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me
	Which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven
	Be done in this and all things! I obey.
	O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!

BRANDON	Nay, he must bear you company. The king

	[To ABERGAVENNY]

	Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know
	How he determines further.

ABERGAVENNY	As the duke said,
	The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
	By me obey'd!

BRANDON	                  Here is a warrant from
	The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies
	Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
	One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor--

BUCKINGHAM	So, so;
	These are the limbs o' the plot: no more, I hope.

BRANDON	A monk o' the Chartreux.

BUCKINGHAM	O, Nicholas Hopkins?

BRANDON	He.

BUCKINGHAM	My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal
	Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already:
	I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
	Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,
	By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT I



SCENE II	The same. The council-chamber.


	[Cornets. Enter KING HENRY VIII, leaning on
	CARDINAL WOLSEY's shoulder, the Nobles, and LOVELL;
	CARDINAL WOLSEY places himself under KING HENRY
	VIII's feet on his right side]

KING HENRY VIII	My life itself, and the best heart of it,
	Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level
	Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks
	To you that choked it. Let be call'd before us
	That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person
	I'll hear him his confessions justify;
	And point by point the treasons of his master
	He shall again relate.

	[A noise within, crying 'Room for the Queen!' Enter
	QUEEN KATHARINE, ushered by NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK:
	she kneels. KING HENRY VIII riseth from his state,
	takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him]

QUEEN KATHARINE	Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.

KING HENRY VIII	Arise, and take place by us: half your suit
	Never name to us; you have half our power:
	The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
	Repeat your will and take it.

QUEEN KATHARINE	Thank your majesty.
	That you would love yourself, and in that love
	Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
	The dignity of your office, is the point
	Of my petition.

KING HENRY VIII	                  Lady mine, proceed.

QUEEN KATHARINE	I am solicited, not by a few,
	And those of true condition, that your subjects
	Are in great grievance: there have been commissions
	Sent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
	Of all their loyalties: wherein, although,
	My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
	Most bitterly on you, as putter on
	Of these exactions, yet the king our master--
	Whose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he
	escapes not
	Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
	The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
	In loud rebellion.

NORFOLK	                  Not almost appears,
	It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,
	The clothiers all, not able to maintain
	The many to them longing, have put off
	The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
	Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
	And lack of other means, in desperate manner
	Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
	And danger serves among then!

KING HENRY VIII	Taxation!
	Wherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal,
	You that are blamed for it alike with us,
	Know you of this taxation?

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Please you, sir,
	I know but of a single part, in aught
	Pertains to the state; and front but in that file
	Where others tell steps with me.

QUEEN KATHARINE	No, my lord,
	You know no more than others; but you frame
	Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome
	To those which would not know them, and yet must
	Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
	Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
	Most pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear 'em,
	The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
	They are devised by you; or else you suffer
	Too hard an exclamation.

KING HENRY VIII	Still exaction!
	The nature of it? in what kind, let's know,
	Is this exaction?

QUEEN KATHARINE	                  I am much too venturous
	In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd
	Under your promised pardon. The subjects' grief
	Comes through commissions, which compel from each
	The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
	Without delay; and the pretence for this
	Is named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths:
	Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
	Allegiance in them; their curses now
	Live where their prayers did: and it's come to pass,
	This tractable obedience is a slave
	To each incensed will. I would your highness
	Would give it quick consideration, for
	There is no primer business.

KING HENRY VIII	By my life,
	This is against our pleasure.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	And for me,
	I have no further gone in this than by
	A single voice; and that not pass'd me but
	By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
	Traduced 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 virtue must go through. We must not stint
	Our necessary actions, in the fear
	To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
	As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
	That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further
	Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
	By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
	Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,
	Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
	For our best act. If we shall stand still,
	In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
	We should take root here where we sit, or sit
	State-statues only.

KING HENRY VIII	Things done well,
	And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
	Things done without example, in their issue
	Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
	Of this commission? I believe, not any.
	We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
	And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
	A trembling contribution! Why, we take
	From every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber;
	And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
	The air will drink the sap. To every county
	Where this is question'd send our letters, with
	Free pardon to each man that has denied
	The force of this commission: pray, look to't;
	I put it to your care.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	A word with you.

	[To the Secretary]

	Let there be letters writ to every shire,
	Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons
	Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised
	That through our intercession this revokement
	And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
	Further in the proceeding.

	[Exit Secretary]

	[Enter Surveyor]

QUEEN KATHARINE	I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
	Is run in your displeasure.

KING HENRY VIII	It grieves many:
	The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker;
	To nature none more bound; his training such,
	That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
	And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,
	When these so noble benefits shall prove
	Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,
	They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
	Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
	Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
	Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find
	His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
	Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
	That once were his, and is become as black
	As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear--
	This was his gentleman in trust--of him
	Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount
	The fore-recited practises; whereof
	We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,
	Most like a careful subject, have collected
	Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

KING HENRY VIII	Speak freely.

Surveyor	First, it was usual with him, every day
	It would infect his speech, that if the king
	Should without issue die, he'll carry it so
	To make the sceptre his: these very words
	I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
	Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced
	Revenge upon the cardinal.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Please your highness, note
	This dangerous conception in this point.
	Not friended by by his wish, to your high person
	His will is most malignant; and it stretches
	Beyond you, to your friends.

QUEEN KATHARINE	My learn'd lord cardinal,
	Deliver all with charity.

KING HENRY VIII	Speak on:
	How grounded he his title to the crown,
	Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
	At any time speak aught?

Surveyor	He was brought to this
	By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.

KING HENRY VIII	What was that Hopkins?

Surveyor	Sir, a Chartreux friar,
	His confessor, who fed him every minute
	With words of sovereignty.

KING HENRY VIII	How know'st thou this?

Surveyor	Not long before your highness sped to France,
	The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
	Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
	What was the speech among the Londoners
	Concerning the French journey: I replied,
	Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
	To the king's danger. Presently the duke
	Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted
	'Twould prove the verity of certain words
	Spoke by a holy monk; 'that oft,' says he,
	'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
	John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
	To hear from him a matter of some moment:
	Whom after under the confession's seal
	He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke
	My chaplain to no creature living, but
	To me, should utter, with demure confidence
	This pausingly ensued: neither the king nor's heirs,
	Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive
	To gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke
	Shall govern England.'

QUEEN KATHARINE	If I know you well,
	You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
	On the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed
	You charge not in your spleen a noble person
	And spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed;
	Yes, heartily beseech you.

KING HENRY VIII	Let him on.
	Go forward.

Surveyor	     On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
	I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
	The monk might be deceived; and that 'twas dangerous for him
	To ruminate on this so far, until
	It forged him some design, which, being believed,
	It was much like to do: he answer'd, 'Tush,
	It can do me no damage;' adding further,
	That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
	The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
	Should have gone off.

KING HENRY VIII	Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!
	There's mischief in this man: canst thou say further?

Surveyor	I can, my liege.

KING HENRY VIII	                  Proceed.

Surveyor	Being at Greenwich,
	After your highness had reproved the duke
	About Sir William Blomer,--

KING HENRY VIII	I remember
	Of such a time: being my sworn servant,
	The duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?

Surveyor	'If,' quoth he, 'I for this had been committed,
	As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd
	The part my father meant to act upon
	The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,
	Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted,
	As he made semblance of his duty, would
	Have put his knife to him.'

KING HENRY VIII	A giant traitor!

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
	and this man out of prison?

QUEEN KATHARINE	God mend all!

KING HENRY VIII	There's something more would out of thee; what say'st?

Surveyor	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 evil used, he would outgo
	His father by as much as a performance
	Does an irresolute purpose.

KING HENRY VIII	There's his period,
	To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd;
	Call him to present trial: if he may
	Find mercy in the law, 'tis his: if none,
	Let him not seek 't of us: by day and night,
	He's traitor to the height.

	[Exeunt]




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT I



SCENE III	An ante-chamber in the palace.


	[Enter Chamberlain and SANDS]

Chamberlain	Is't possible the spells of France should juggle
	Men into such strange mysteries?

SANDS	New customs,
	Though they be never so ridiculous,
	Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

Chamberlain	As far as I see, all the good our English
	Have got by the late voyage is but merely
	A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;
	For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly
	Their very noses had been counsellors
	To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

SANDS	They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,
	That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
	Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.

Chamberlain	Death! my lord,
	Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
	That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.

	[Enter LOVELL]

		                  How now!
	What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

LOVELL	Faith, my lord,
	I hear of none, but the new proclamation
	That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.

Chamberlain	What is't for?

LOVELL	The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
	That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

Chamberlain	I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
	To think an English courtier may be wise,
	And never see the Louvre.

LOVELL	They must either,
	For so run the conditions, leave those remnants
	Of fool and feather that they got in France,
	With all their honourable point of ignorance
	Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,
	Abusing better men than they can be,
	Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
	The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
	Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel,
	And understand again like honest men;
	Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
	They may, 'cum privilegio,' wear away
	The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.

SANDS	'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
	Are grown so catching.

Chamberlain	What a loss our ladies
	Will have of these trim vanities!

LOVELL	Ay, marry,
	There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons
	Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
	A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.

SANDS	The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,
	For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now
	An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
	A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong
	And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
	Held current music too.

Chamberlain	Well said, Lord Sands;
	Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

SANDS	No, my lord;
	Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Chamberlain	Sir Thomas,
	Whither were you a-going?

LOVELL	To the cardinal's:
	Your lordship is a guest too.

Chamberlain	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 kingdom, I'll assure you.

LOVELL	That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
	A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
	His dews fall every where.

Chamberlain	No doubt he's noble;
	He had a black mouth that said other of him.

SANDS	He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him
	Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
	Men of his way should be most liberal;
	They are set here for examples.

Chamberlain	True, they are so:
	But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
	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 Guildford
	This night to be comptrollers.

SANDS	I am your lordship's.

	[Exeunt]




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT I



SCENE IV	A Hall in York Place.


	[Hautboys. A small table under a state for CARDINAL
	WOLSEY, a longer table for the guests. Then enter
	ANNE and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as
	guests, at one door; at another door, enter
	GUILDFORD]

GUILDFORD	Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
	Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates
	To fair content and you: none here, he hopes,
	In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
	One care abroad; he would have all as merry
	As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,
	Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

	[Enter Chamberlain, SANDS, and LOVELL]

	The very thought of this fair company
	Clapp'd wings to me.

Chamberlain	You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.

SANDS	Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
	But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these
	Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
	I think would better please 'em: by my life,
	They are a sweet society of fair ones.

LOVELL	O, that your lordship were but now confessor
	To one or two of these!

SANDS	I would I were;
	They should find easy penance.

LOVELL	Faith, how easy?

SANDS	As easy as a down-bed would afford it.

Chamberlain	Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
	Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this:
	His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze;
	Two women placed together makes cold weather:
	My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;
	Pray, sit between these ladies.

SANDS	By my faith,
	And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies:
	If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
	I had it from my father.

ANNE	Was he mad, sir?

SANDS	O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:
	But he would bite none; just as I do now,
	He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

	[Kisses her]

Chamberlain	Well said, my lord.
	So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,
	The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
	Pass away frowning.

SANDS	For my little cure,
	Let me alone.

	[Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, and takes his state]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,
	Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
	Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome;
	And to you all, good health.

	[Drinks]

SANDS	Your grace is noble:
	Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
	And save me so much talking.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	My Lord Sands,
	I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.
	Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen,
	Whose fault is this?

SANDS	The red wine first must rise
	In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em
	Talk us to silence.

ANNE	You are a merry gamester,
	My Lord Sands.

SANDS	                  Yes, if I make my play.
	Here's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam,
	For 'tis to such a thing,--

ANNE	You cannot show me.

SANDS	I told your grace they would talk anon.

	[Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	What's that?

Chamberlain	Look out there, some of ye.

	[Exit Servant]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	What warlike voice,
	And to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;
	By all the laws of war you're privileged.

	[Re-enter Servant]

Chamberlain	How now! what is't?

Servant	A noble troop of strangers;
	For so they seem: they've left their barge and landed;
	And hither make, as great ambassadors
	From foreign princes.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Good lord chamberlain,
	Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;
	And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
	Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
	Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

	[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables removed]

	You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.
	A good digestion to you all: and once more
	I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all.

	[Hautboys. Enter KING HENRY VIII and others, as
	masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the
	Chamberlain. They pass directly before CARDINAL
	WOLSEY, and gracefully salute him]

	A noble company! what are their pleasures?

Chamberlain	Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd
	To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame
	Of this so noble and so fair assembly
	This night to meet here, they could do no less
	Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
	But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,
	Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat
	An hour of revels with 'em.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Say, lord chamberlain,
	They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em
	A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.

	[They choose Ladies for the dance. KING HENRY VIII
	chooses ANNE]

KING HENRY VIII	The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,
	Till now I never knew thee!

	[Music. Dance]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	My lord!

Chamberlain	Your grace?

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:
	There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
	More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
	If I but knew him, with my love and duty
	I would surrender it.

Chamberlain	I will, my lord.

	[Whispers the Masquers]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	What say they?

Chamberlain	                  Such a one, they all confess,
	There is indeed; which they would have your grace
	Find out, and he will take it.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Let me see, then.
	By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll make
	My royal choice.

KING HENRY VIII	                  Ye have found him, cardinal:

	[Unmasking]

	You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:
	You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
	I should judge now unhappily.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	I am glad
	Your grace is grown so pleasant.

KING HENRY VIII	My lord chamberlain,
	Prithee, come hither: what fair lady's that?

Chamberlain	An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter--
	The Viscount Rochford,--one of her highness' women.

KING HENRY VIII	By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
	I were unmannerly, to take you out,
	And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!
	Let it go round.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
	I' the privy chamber?

LOVELL	Yes, my lord.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Your grace,
	I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

KING HENRY VIII	I fear, too much.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	                  There's fresher air, my lord,
	In the next chamber.

KING HENRY VIII	Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,
	I must not yet forsake you: let's be merry:
	Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
	To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
	To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
	Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.

	[Exeunt with trumpets]




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT II



SCENE I	Westminster. A street.


	[Enter two Gentlemen, meeting]

First Gentleman	Whither away so fast?

Second Gentleman	O, God save ye!
	Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
	Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

First Gentleman	I'll save you
	That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
	Of bringing back the prisoner.

Second Gentleman	Were you there?

First Gentleman	Yes, indeed, was I.

Second Gentleman	Pray, speak what has happen'd.

First Gentleman	You may guess quickly what.

Second Gentleman	Is he found guilty?

First Gentleman	Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.

Second Gentleman	I am sorry for't.

First Gentleman	                  So are a number more.

Second Gentleman	But, pray, how pass'd it?

First Gentleman	I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
	Came to the bar; where to his accusations
	He pleaded still not guilty and alleged
	Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
	The king's attorney on the contrary
	Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions
	Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired
	To have brought viva voce to his face:
	At which appear'd against him his surveyor;
	Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,
	Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
	Hopkins, that made this mischief.

Second Gentleman	That was he
	That fed him with his prophecies?

First Gentleman	The same.
	All these accused him strongly; which he fain
	Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:
	And so his peers, upon this evidence,
	Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
	He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
	Was either pitied in him or forgotten.

Second Gentleman	After all this, how did he bear himself?

First Gentleman	When he was brought again to the bar, to hear
	His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
	With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
	And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
	But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
	In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.

Second Gentleman	I do not think he fears death.

First Gentleman	Sure, he does not:
	He never was so womanish; the cause
	He may a little grieve at.

Second Gentleman	Certainly
	The cardinal is the end of this.

First Gentleman	'Tis likely,
	By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
	Then deputy of Ireland; who removed,
	Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
	Lest he should help his father.

Second Gentleman	That trick of state
	Was a deep envious one.

First Gentleman	At his return
	No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
	And generally, whoever the king favours,
	The cardinal instantly will find employment,
	And far enough from court too.

Second Gentleman	All the commons
	Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
	Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
	They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,
	The mirror of all courtesy;--

First Gentleman	Stay there, sir,
	And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; tip-staves
	before him; the axe with the edge towards him;
	halberds on each side: accompanied with LOVELL,
	VAUX, SANDS, and common people]

Second Gentleman	Let's stand close, and behold him.

BUCKINGHAM	All good people,
	You that thus far have come to pity me,
	Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
	I have this day received a traitor's judgment,
	And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,
	And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
	Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
	The law I bear no malice for my death;
	'T has done, upon the premises, but justice:
	But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:
	Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em:
	Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
	Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
	For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
	For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
	Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
	More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,
	And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
	His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
	Is only bitter to him, only dying,
	Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
	And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
	Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
	And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name.

LOVELL	I do beseech your grace, for charity,
	If ever any malice in your heart
	Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

BUCKINGHAM	Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
	As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
	There cannot be those numberless offences
	'Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with:
	no black envy
	Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace;
	And if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him
	You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers
	Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake,
	Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live
	Longer than I have time to tell his years!
	Ever beloved and loving may his rule be!
	And when old time shall lead him to his end,
	Goodness and he fill up one monument!

LOVELL	To the water side I must conduct your grace;
	Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
	Who undertakes you to your end.

VAUX	Prepare there,
	The duke is coming: see the barge be ready;
	And fit it with such furniture as suits
	The greatness of his person.

BUCKINGHAM	Nay, Sir Nicholas,
	Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
	When I came hither, I was lord high constable
	And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:
	Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
	That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;
	And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.
	My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
	Who first raised head against usurping Richard,
	Flying for succor to his servant Banister,
	Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
	And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!
	Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
	My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
	Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
	Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
	Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all
	That made me happy at one stroke has taken
	For ever from the world. I had my trial,
	And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me,
	A little happier than my wretched father:
	Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both
	Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most;
	A most unnatural and faithless service!
	Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,
	This from a dying man receive as certain:
	Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels
	Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends
	And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
	The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
	Like water from ye, never found again
	But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
	Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour
	Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell:
	And when you would say something that is sad,
	Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!

	[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train]

First Gentleman	O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
	I fear, too many curses on their beads
	That were the authors.

Second Gentleman	If the duke be guiltless,
	'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling
	Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
	Greater than this.

First Gentleman	                  Good angels keep it from us!
	What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?

Second Gentleman	This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
	A strong faith to conceal it.

First Gentleman	Let me have it;
	I do not talk much.

Second Gentleman	I am confident,
	You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear
	A buzzing of a separation
	Between the king and Katharine?

First Gentleman	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.

Second Gentleman	But that slander, sir,
	Is found a truth now: for it grows again
	Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain
	The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
	Or some about him near, have, out of malice
	To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
	That will undo her: to confirm this too,
	Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;
	As all think, for this business.

First Gentleman	'Tis the cardinal;
	And merely to revenge him on the emperor
	For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
	The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.

Second Gentleman	I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel
	That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
	Will have his will, and she must fall.

First Gentleman	'Tis woful.
	We are too open here to argue this;
	Let's think in private more.

	[Exeunt]




	KING HENRY VIII


ACT II



SCENE II	An ante-chamber in the palace.


	[Enter Chamberlain, reading a letter]

Chamberlain	'My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with
	all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and
	furnished. 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 cardinal's, by
	commission and main power, took 'em from me; with
	this reason: His master would be served before a
	subject, if not before the king; which stopped our
	mouths, sir.'
	I fear he will indeed: well, let him have them:
	He will have all, I think.

	[Enter, to Chamberlain, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]

NORFOLK	Well met, my lord chamberlain.

Chamberlain	Good day to both your graces.

SUFFOLK	How is the king employ'd?

Chamberlain	I left him private,
	Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

NORFOLK	What's the cause?

Chamberlain	It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
	Has crept too near his conscience.

SUFFOLK	No, his conscience
	Has crept too near another lady.

NORFOLK	'Tis so:
	This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
	That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
	Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.

SUFFOLK	Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.

NORFOLK	How holily he works in all his business!
	And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league
	Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,
	He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
	Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
	Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage:
	And out of all these to restore the king,
	He counsels a divorce; a loss of her
	That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
	About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
	Of her that loves him with that excellence
	That angels love good men with; even of her
	That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
	Will bless the king: and is not this course pious?

Chamberlain	Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
	These news are every where; every tongue speaks 'em,
	And every true heart weeps for't: all that dare
	Look into these affairs see this main end,
	The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
	The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
	This bold bad man.

SUFFOLK	                  And free us from his slavery.

NORFOLK	We had need pray,
	And heartily, for our deliverance;
	Or this imperious man will work us all
	From princes into pages: all men's honours
	Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
	Into what pitch he please.

SUFFOLK	For me, my lords,
	I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:
	As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
	If the king please; his curses and his blessings
	Touch me alike, they're breath I not believe in.
	I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
	To him that made him proud, the pope.

NORFOLK	Let's in;
	And with some other business put the king
	From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:
	My lord, you'll bear us company?

Chamberlain	Excuse me;
	The king has sent me otherwhere: besides,
	You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
	Health to your lordships.

NORFOLK	Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

	[Exit Chamberlain; and KING HENRY VIII draws the
	curtain, and sits reading pensively]

SUFFOLK	How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

KING HENRY VIII	Who's there, ha?

NORFOLK	                  Pray God he be not angry.

KING HENRY VIII	Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
	Into my private meditations?
	Who am I? ha?

NORFOLK	A gracious king that pardons all offences
	Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way
	Is business of estate; in which we come
	To know your royal pleasure.

KING HENRY VIII	Ye are too bold:
	Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
	Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?

	[Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS, with
	a commission]

	Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey,
	The quiet of my wounded conscience;
	Thou art a cure fit for a king.

	[To CARDINAL CAMPEIUS]

		          You're welcome,
	Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
	Use us and it.

	[To CARDINAL WOLSEY]

	My good lord, have great care
	I be not found a talker.

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Sir, you cannot.
	I would your grace would give us but an hour
	Of private conference.

KING HENRY VIII	[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]
		 We are busy; go.

NORFOLK	[Aside to SUFFOLK]
	This priest has no pride in him?

SUFFOLK	[Aside to NORFOLK]             Not to speak of:
	I would not be so sick though for his place:
	But this cannot continue.

NORFOLK	[Aside to SUFFOLK]      If it do,
	I'll venture one have-at-him.

SUFFOLK	[Aside to NORFOLK]          I another.

	[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]

CARDINAL WOLSEY	Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
	Above all princes, in committing freely
	Your scruple to the voice of Christendom:
	Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
	The Spaniard, tied blood and favour to her,
	Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
	The trial just and noble. All the clerks,