The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais’d head against usurping Richard, Flying for succour 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, Restor’d 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 lov’d 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 heads 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 rumour 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 arriv’d 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 purpos’d.

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 woeful.

We are too open here to argue this;

Let’s think in private more. Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 2.

London. The palace

Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN reading this letter CHAMBERLAIN. ‘My lord,

‘The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish’d. 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 serv’d before a subject, if not before the King; which stopp’d our mouths, sir.’

I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them.

He will have all, I think.

Enter to the LORD CHAMBERLAIN the DUKES OF 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 everywhere; 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 an 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; th’ are 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 LORD CHAMBERLAIN; and the KING draws the curtain and sits reading pensively SUFFOLK. How sad he looks; sure, he is much afflicted.

KING. Who’s there, ha?

NORFOLK. Pray God he be not angry.

KING HENRY. 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. Ye are too bold.

Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business.

Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?

Enter WOLSEY and 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 CAMPEIUS] You’re welcome,

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom.

Use us and it. [To WOLSEY] My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker.

WOLSEY. Sir, you cannot.

I would your Grace would give us but an hour Of private conference.

KING. [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

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 by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks, I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms Have their free voices. Rome the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius, Whom once more I present unto your Highness.

KING. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves.

They have sent me such a man I would have wish’d for.

CAMPEIUS. Your Grace must needs deserve an strangers’ loves, You are so noble. To your Highness’ hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue-The court of Rome commanding-you, my Lord Cardinal of York, are join’d with me their servant In the unpartial judging of this business.

KING. Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?

WOLSEY. I know your Majesty has always lov’d her So dear in heart not to deny her that A woman of less place might ask by law-Scholars allow’d freely to argue for her.

KING. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour To him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal, Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; I find him a fit fellow. Exit WOLSEY

Re-enter WOLSEY with GARDINER

WOLSEY. [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you;

You are the King’s now.

GARDINER. [Aside to WOLSEY] But to be commanded For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais’d me.

KING. Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks and whispers]

CAMPEIUS. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace In this man’s place before him?

WOLSEY. Yes, he was.

CAMPEIUS. Was he not held a learned man?

WOLSEY. Yes, surely.

CAMPEIUS. Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread then, Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.

WOLSEY. How! Of me?

CAMPEIUS. They will not stick to say you envied him And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev’d him That he ran mad and died.

WOLSEY. Heav’n’s peace be with him!

That’s Christian care enough. For living murmurers There’s places of rebuke. He was a fool, For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, If I command him, follows my appointment.

I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, We live not to be grip’d by meaner persons.

KING. Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.

Exit GARDINER

The most convenient place that I can think of For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars; There ye shall meet about this weighty business-My Wolsey, see it furnish’d. O, my lord, Would it not grieve an able man to leave So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!

O, ‘tis a tender place! and I must leave her. Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 3.

London. The palace

Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY

ANNE. Not for that neither. Here’s the pang that pinches: His Highness having liv’d so long with her, and she So good a lady that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonour of her-by my life, She never knew harm-doing-O, now, after So many courses of the sun enthroned, Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than ‘Tis sweet at first t’ acquire-after this process, To give her the avaunt, it is a pity

Would move a monster.

OLD LADY. Hearts of most