Henry VIII

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 any thing but churchmen’s habits⁠—
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas, has banish’d 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 a curse like this. 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 vain-glory,
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? loved him next heaven? obey’d 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 dream’d a joy beyond his pleasure;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.

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 wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e’er divorce my dignities.

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.
Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!
Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me;
Almost no grave allow’d me: like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish’d,
I’ll hang my head and perish.

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, peace-makers, friends, and servants.

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.

Queen 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.

Scene II

Ante-chamber to the King’s apartment.

	Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Norfolk	If you will now unite in your complaints, And force them with a constancy, the cardinal Cannot stand under them: if you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces, With these you bear already.
Surrey	I am joyful To meet the least occasion that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, To be revenged on him.
Suffolk	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 memorized.
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