The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight

The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.

THE PROLOGVE.

I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, T□at beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow, Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: Such Noble Scœnes, as draw the Eye to flow We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue Their Money out of hope they may beleeue, May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see Onely a show or two, and so a gree, The Play may passe: if they be still, and willing, Ile vndertake may see away their shilling Richly in two short houres. Onely they That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play, A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hear□□s, know To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring To make that onely true, we now intend, Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne, Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see The very Persons of our Noble Story, As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: And if you can be merry then, Ile say, A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.

Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.

Buckingham. GOod morrow, and well met. How haue ye done Since last we saw in France?

Norf. I thanke your Grace: Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer Of what I saw there.

Buck. An vntimely Ague Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men Met in the vale of Andren.

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde, I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung In their Embracement, as they grew together, Which had they, What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd Such a compounded one?

Buck. All the whole time I was my Chambers Prisoner.

Nor. Then you lost The view of earthly glory: Men might say Till this time Pompe was single, but now married To one aboue it selfe. Each following day Became the next dayes master, till the last Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French, All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, Shew d like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too, Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare The Pride vpon them, that their very labour Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske Was cry'de incompareable; and th'ensuing night Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings Equall 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 wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie Being now seene, possible enough, got credit That Beuis was beleeu'd.

Buc. Oh you go farre.

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing, Would by a good Discourser loose some life, Which Actions selfe, was tongue too.

Buc. All was Royall, To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, Order gaue each thing view. The Office did Distinctly his full Function: who did guide, I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes Of this great Sport together?

Nor. As you guesse: One certes, that promises no Element In such a businesse.

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?

Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke.

Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye 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 bulke Take vp the Rayes o'th'beneficiall Sun, And keepe it from the Earth.

Nor. Surely Sir, There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends: For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon For high feats done to'th'Crowne; neither Allied To eminent Assistants; but Spider‑like Out of his Selfe‑drawing Web. O giues vs note, The force of his owne merit makes his way A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes A place next to the King.

Abur. I cannot tell What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that, If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins A new Hell in himselfe.

Buc. Why the Diuell, Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him (Without the priuity o'th'King) t'appoint Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File Of all the Gentry; for the most part such To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter The Honourable Boord of Councell, out Must fetch him in, he Papers.

Abur. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer They shall abound as formerly.

Buc. O many Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em For this great Iourney. What did this vanity But minister communication of A most poore issue.

Nor. Greeuingly I thinke, The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes The Cost that did conclude it.

Buc. Euery man, After the hideous storme that follow'd, was A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded The sodaine breach on't.

Nor. Which is budded out, For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd Our Merchants goods at Burdeux.

Abur. Is it therefore Th'Ambassador is silenc'd?

Nor. Marry is't.

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd At a superfluous rate.

Buc. Why all this Businesse Our Reuerend Cardinall carried.

Nor. Like it your Grace, The State takes notice of the priuate difference Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade The Cardinals 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 Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell, You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock That I aduice your shunning.

Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, fixeth bis eye on Buck­ ham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? Where's his Examination?

Secr. Heere so please you.

Car. Is he in person, ready?

Secr. I, please your Grace.

Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this bigge looke.

Exeunt Cardinall, and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd‑mouth'd, and I Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke, Out‑worths a Nobles blood.

Nor. What are you chaff'd? Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th'appliance onely Which your disease requires.

Buc. I read in's looks Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th'King: Ile follow, and out‑stare him.

Nor. Stay my Lord, And let your Reason with your Choller question What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way Selfe‑mettle tyres him: Not a man in England Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, As you would to your Friend.

Buc. Ile to the King, And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime, There's difference in no persons.

Norf. Be aduis'd; Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot That it do sindge your selfe. We may out‑runne By violent swiftnesse that which we run at; And lose by ouer‑running: know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore, In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd; I say againe there is no English Soule More stronger to direct you then your selfe; If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay the fire of passion.

Buck. Sir, I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe 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 proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know To be corrupt and treasonous.

Norf. Say not treasonous.

Buck. To th'King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, As able to perform't) his minde, and place Infecting one another, yea reciprocally, Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, As here at home, suggests the King our Master To this last costly Treaty: Th'enteruiew, That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse Did breake ith'wrenching.

Norf. Faith, and so it did.

Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall The Articles o'th'Combination drew As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified As he cride thus let be, to as much end, As giue a Crutch to th'dead. But our Count‑Cardinall Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes, (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie To th'old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour, Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt, (For twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, His feares were that the Interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed him some preiudice; for from this League, Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd, Tha□ he would please to alter the Kings course, And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, And for his owne aduantage.

Norf. I am sorry To heare this of him; and could wish he were Somthing mistaken in't.

Buck. No, not a sillable: I doe pronounce him in that very shape He shall appeare in proofe.

Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three of the Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it.

Sergeant. Sir, My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name Of our most Soueraigne King.

Buck. Lo you my Lord, The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish Vnder deuice, and practise:

Bran. I am sorry, To see you tane from liberty, to looke on The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure You shall to th'Tower.

Buck. It will helpe me nothing To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n Be done in this and all things: I obey. O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well.

Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King Is pleas'd you shall to th'Tower, till you know How he determines further.

Abur. As the Duke said, The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obey'd.

Bran. Here is a warrant from The King, t'attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car, One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour.

Buck. So, so; These are the limbs o'th'Plot: no more I hope.

Bra. A Monke o'th'Chartreux.

Buck: O Michaell Hopkins?

Bra. He.

Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The ore‑great Cardinall Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already: I am the shadow of poore Buckingham, Whose figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.

Exe.

Scena Secunda.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoul­ der, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the Kings feete on his right side.

King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th'leuell Of a full‑charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, Ile heare him his confessions iustifie, And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, He shall againe relate.

A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke of Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. King riseth from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.

Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor.

King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power: The other moity ere you aske is giuen, Repeat your will, and take it.

Queen. Thanke your Maiesty That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor The dignity of your Office; is the poynt Of my Petition.

Kin. Lady mine proceed.

Queen. I am solicited nor by a few, And those of true condition; That your Subiects Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches Most bitterly on you, is putter on Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes (not Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares In lowd Rebellion.

Norf. Not almost appeares, It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, The Clothiers all not able to maintaine The many to them longing, haue put off The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner Daring th'euent too th'teeth, are all in vprore, And danger serues among them.

Kin. Taxation? Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, You that are blam'd for it alike with vs, Know you of this Taxation?

Card. Please you Sir, I know but of a single part in ought Pertaines to th'State; and front but in that File Where others tell steps with me.

Queen. No, my Lord? You know no more then others? But you frame Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are Most pestilent to th'hearing, and to beare 'em, The Backe is Sacrifice to th'load; They say They are deuis'd by you, er else you suffer Too hard an exclamation.

Kin. Still Exaction: The nature of it, in what kinde let's know, Is this Exaction?

Queen. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience; but am boldned Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe Comes through Commissions, which compels from each The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegeance in them; their curses now Liue where their prayers did; and it's come to passe, This tractable obedience is a Slaue To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse Would giue it quicke consideration; for There is no primer basenesse.

Kin. By my life, This is against our pleasure.

Card. And for me, I haue no further gone in this, then by A single voice, and that not past me, but By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am Traduc'd 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 Vertue must goe through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the feare To cope malicious Censurers, which euer, As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow That is new trim'd; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best, By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at, We should take roote here, where we sit; Or sit State‑Statues onely.

Kin. Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any. We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each? A trembling Contribution; why we take From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th'Timber: And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt, The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with Free pardon to each man that has deny'de The force of this Commission: pray looke too't; I put it to your care.

Card. A word with you. Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd, That through our Intercession, this Reuokement And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you Further in the proceeding.

Exit Secret.

Enter Surueyor.

Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.

Kin. It grieues many: The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, To Nature none more bound; his trayning such, That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers, And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, When these so Noble benefits shall proue Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt, They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat, Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady) Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces That once were his, and is become as blacke, As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount The fore‑recited practises, whereof We cannot feele too little, heare too much.

Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

Kin. Speake freely.

Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day It would infect his Speech: That if the King Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so To make the Scepter his. These very words I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law, Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd Reuenge vpon the Cardinall.

Card. Please your Highnesse note This dangerous conception in this point, Not frended by his wish to your High person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends.

Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall, Deliuer all with Charity.

Kin. Speake on; How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, At any time speake ought?

Sur. He was brought to this, By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton.

Kin. What was that Henton?

Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer, His Confessor, who fed him euery minute With words of Soueraignty.

Kin. How know'st thou this?

Sur. Not long before your Hignesse sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners, Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, Men feare the French would proue perfidious To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted 'Twould proue the verity of certaine words Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre To heare from him a matter of some moment: Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale, He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue To the loue o'th'Commonalty, the Duke Shall gouerne England.

Queen. If I know you well, You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office On the complaint o'th'Tenants; take good heed You charge not in your spleene a Noble person, And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you.

Kin. Let him on: Goe forward.

Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth, I told my Lord the Duke, by th'Diuels illusions The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush, It can doe me no damage; adding further, That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads Should haue gone off.

Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha, There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further?

Sur. I can my Liedge.

Kin. Proceed.

Sur. Being at Greenwich, After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke About Sir William Blumer.

Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn ser­ (uant, The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence?

Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed, As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid The Part my Father meant to act vpon Th'Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted, (As he made semblance of his duty) would Haue put his knife into him.

Kin. A Gyant Traytor.

Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, And this man out of Prison.

Queen. God mend all.

Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what (say'st?

Sur. 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 euill vs'd, he would outgoe His Father, by as much as a performance Do's an irresolute purpose.

Kin. There's his period, To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd, Call him to present tryall: if he may Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night Hee's Traytor to th'height.

Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter L. Chamberlaine and L. Sandys.

L. Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle Men into such strange mysteries?

L. San. New customes, Though they be neuer so ridiculous, (Nay let 'em be vumanly) yet are follow'd.

L. Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely A fit or two o'th'face, (but they are shrewd ones) For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly Their very noses had been Councellours To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so.

L. San. They haue all new legs, And lame ones; one would take it, That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen A Spring‑halt rain'd among 'em.

L. Ch. Death my Lord, Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't, That sure th'haue worne out C□□istendome: how now? What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?

Enter Sir Thomas Louell.

Louell. Faith my Lord, I heare of none but the new Proclamation, That's clapt vpon the Court Gate.

L. Cham. What is't for?

Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants, That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors.

L. Cham. I'm glad 'tis there; Now I would pray our Monsieurs To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, And neuer see the Louure.

Lou. They must either (For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire‑workes, Abusing better men then they can be Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings, Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell; And vnderstand againe like honest men Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, They may Cum Pruiilegio, wee away The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at.

L. San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases Are growne so catching.

L. Cham. What a losse our Ladies Will haue of these trim vanities?

Louell. I marry, There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies: A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow.

L. San. The Diuell fiddle 'em, I am glad they are going, For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady Held currant Musicke too.

L. Cham. Well said Lord Sands, Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?

L. San. No my Lord, Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe.

L. Cham. Sir Thomas, Whither were you a going?

Lou. To the Cardinals; Your Lordship is a guest too.

L. Cham. 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 Kingdome Ile assure you.

Lou. That Churchman Beares a bounteous minde indeed, A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, His dewes fall euery where.

L. Cham. No doubt hee's Noble; He had a blacke mouth that said other of him.

L. San. He may my Lord, Ha's wherewithall in him; Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, Men of his way, should be most liberall, They are set heere for examples.

L. Cham. True, they are so; But few now giue so great ones: My Barge stayes; 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 Guilford This night to be Comptrollers.

L. San. I am your Lordships.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer Table for the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry Guilford.

S. Hen. Guilf. Ladyes, A generall welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people. Enter L. Chamberlaine L. Sands, and Louell. O my Lord, y'are tardy; The very thought of this faire Company, Clapt wings to me.

Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford.

San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall But halfe my Lay‑thoughts in him, some of these Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, I thinke would better please 'em: by my life, They are a sweet society of faire ones.

Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, To one or two of these.

San. I would I were, They should finde easie pennance.

Lou. Faith how easie?

San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it.

Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this: His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze, Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather: My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking: Pray sit betweene these Ladies.

San. By my faith, And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me: I had it from my Father.

An. Bul. Was he mad Sir?

San. O very mad exceeding mad, in loue too; But he would bite none, iust as I doe now, He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath.

Cham. Well said my Lord: So now y'are fairely seated: Gntlemen, The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies Passe away frowning.

San. For my little Cure, Let me alone.

Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.

Card. Y'are wel□ome my faire Guests that noble Lady Or Gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, And to you all good health.

San. Your Grace is Noble, Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, And saue me so much talking.

Card. My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen, Whose fault is this?

San. The red wine first must rise In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em, Talke vs to silence.

An. B. You are a merry Gamster My Lord Sands.

San. Yes, if I make my play: Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: For tis to such a thing.

An. B. You cannot shew me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.

San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon.

Card. What's that?

Cham. Looke out there, some of ye.

Card. What warlike voyce, And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd.

Enter a Seruant.

Cham. How now, what is't?

Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers, For so they seeme; th'haue left their Barge and landed, And hither make, as great Embassadors From forraigne Princes.

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine, Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him. All rise, and Tables remou'd. You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all. Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepheards, vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the Cardinall, and gracefully sa­ lute him. A noble Company: what are their pleasures?

Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame Of this so Noble and so faire assembly, This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty) But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat An houre of Reuels with 'em.

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine, They haue done my poore house grace: For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes, And pray 'em take their pleasures.

Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.

King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty, Till now I neuer knew thee.

Musicke, Dance.

Card. My Lord.

Cham. Your Grace.

Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst 'em by his person More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom (If I but knew him) with my loue aud duty I would surrender it. Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord.

Card. What say they?

Cham. Such a one, they all confesse There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace Find out, and he will take it.

Card. Let me see then, By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make My royall choyce.

Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall, You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall, I should iudge now vnhappily.

Card. I am glad Your Grace is growne so pleasant.

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine, Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that?

Cham. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, One of her Highnesse women.

Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, I were vnmannerly to take you out, And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, Let it goe round.

Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready I'th'Priuy Chamber?

Lou. Yes, my Lord.

Card. Your Grace I feare, with dancing is a little heated.

Kin. I feare too much.

Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord, In the next Chamber.

Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner, I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry, Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths, To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.

Exeunt with Trumpets.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1. Whether away so fast?

2. O, God saue ye: Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

1. Ile saue you That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the Prisoner.

2. Were you there?

1. Yes indeed was I.

2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd.

1. You may guesse quickly what.

2. Is he found guilty?

1. Yes truly is he, And condemn'd vpon't.

2. I am sorry fort.

1. So are a number more.

2. But pray how past it?

1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law. The Kings Atturney on the contrary, Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd To him brought viua voce to his face; At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, Hopkins, that made this mischiefe.

2. That was hee That fed him with his Prophecies.

1. The same, All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine Would haue flung from him; but indeed he couldnot; And so his Peeres vpon this euidence, Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Mu□h He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all Was either pittied in him, or forgotten.

2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe?

1. When he was brought agen to th'Bar, to heare His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly, And something spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly, In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience.

2. I doe not thinke he feares death.

1. Sure he does not, He neuer was so womanish, the cause He may a little grieue at.

2. Certainly, The Cardinall is the end of this.

1. Tis likely, By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; Then Deputy of lreland, who remou'd Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, Least he should helpe his Father.

2. That tricke of State Was a deepe enuious one,

1. At his returne, No doubt he will requite it; this is noted (And generally) who euer the King fauours, The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, And farre enough from Court too.

2. All the Commons Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham, The Mirror of all courtesie.

Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, the Axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.

1. Stay there Sir, And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of.

2. Let's stand close and behold him.

Buck All good people, You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me. I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement, And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me, Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull. The Law I beare no mallice for my death, T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em; Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe; Nor build their euils on the graues of great men; For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em. For further life in this world I ne're hope, Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies More then I dare make faults. You few that lou'd me, And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue Is only bitter to him, only dying: Goe with me like good Angels to my end, And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice, And lift my Soule to Heauen. Lead on a Gods name.

Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity If euer any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly.

Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all. There cannot be those numberlesse offences Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue. Commend mee to his Grace: And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares; Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument.

Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who vndertakes you to your end.

Vaux. Prepare there, The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suites The Greatnesse of his Person.

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun; Yet I am richer then my base Accusers, That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't. My noble Father Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard, Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister, Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne, Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken For euer from the World. I had my Tryall, And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me A little happier then my wretched Father: Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most: A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me, This from a dying man receiue as certaine: Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends, And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, neuer found againe But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre Of my long weary life is come vpon me: Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, Speake how I fell. I haue done; and God forgiue me.

Exeunt Duke and Traine.

1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals I feare, too many curses on their heads That were the Authors.

2. If the Duke be guiltlesse, 'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling Of an ensuing euill, if it fall, Greater then this.

1. Good Angels keepe it from vs: What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?

2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceale it.

1: Let me haue it: I doe not talke much.

2. I am confident; You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare A buzzing of a Separation Betweene the King and Katherine?

1. 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.

2. But that slander Sir, Is found a truth now: for it growes agen Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall, Or some about him neere, haue out of malice To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple That will vndoe her: To confirme this too, Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately, As all thinke for this busines.

1. Tis the Cardinall; And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, For not bestowing on him at his asking, The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2. I thinke You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell, That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall Will haue his will, and she must fall.

1. 'Tis wofull. Wee are too open heere to argue this: Let's thinke in priuate more.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.

MY Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the care I 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 Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke 'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd be­ fore a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes Sir. I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee will haue all I thinke.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Nor­ folke and Suffolke.

Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Good day to both your Graces.

Suff. How is the King imployd?

Cham. I left him priuate, Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Norf. What's the cause?

Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife Ha's crept too neere his Conscience.

Suff. No, his Conscience Ha's crept too neere another Ladie.

Norf. Tis so; This is the Cardinals doing; The King‑Cardinall, That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day.

Suff. Pray God he doe, Hee'l neuer know himselfe else.

Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse, And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew) He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage. And out of all these, to restore the King, He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre; Of her that loues him with that excellence, That Angels loue good men with:; Euen of her, That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?

Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em, And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon This bold bad man.

Suff. And free vs from his slauery.

Norf. We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliuerance; Or this imperious man will worke vs all From Princes into Pages: all mens honours Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please.

Suff. For me, my Lords, I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede: As I am made without him, so Ile stand, If the King please: his Curses and his blessings Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in. I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him To him that made him proud; the Pope.

Norf. Let's in; And with some other busines, put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him: My Lord, youle beare vs company?

Cham. Excuse me, The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him: Health to your Lordships.

Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading pensiuely.

Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted.

Kin. Who's there? Ha?

Norff. Pray God he be not angry.

Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your (selues Into my priuate Meditations? Who am I? Ha?

Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way, Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come To know your Royall pleasure.

Kin. Ye are too bold: Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha? Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission. Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded Conscience; Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome, Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, I be not found a Talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot; I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference.

Kin. We are busie; goe.

Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him?

Suff. Not to speake of: I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue.

Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him.

Suff. I another.

Exeunt Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome: Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse.

Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for.

Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyned with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse.

Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquain­ (ted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her So deare in heart, not to deny her that A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her.

Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. I find him a fit fellow.

Enter Gardiner.

Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; You are the Kings now.

Card. But to be commanded For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me.

Kin. Come hither Gardiner.

Walkes and whispers.

Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace In this mans place before him?

Wol. Yes, he was.

Camp. Was he not held a learned man?

Wol. Yes surely.

Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then, Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall.

Wol. How? of me?

Camp They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him, That he ran mad, and dide.

Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him: That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be griped by meaner persons.

Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th'Queene. Exit Gardiner. The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of Learning, is Black‑Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty busines. My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord, Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liued so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue should euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, She neuer knew harme‑doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t'acquire. After this Processe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty Would moue a Monster.

Old La. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her.

An. Oh Gods will, much better She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soule and bodies seuering.

Old L. Alas poore Lady, Shee's a stranger now againe.

An. So much the more Must pitty drop vpon her; verily I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk'd up in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow.

Old L. Our content Is our best hauing.

Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queene.

Old. L. Beshrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of your Hipocrisie: You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please to stretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth.

Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen.

Old. L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs To beare that load of Title?

An. No in truth.

Old. L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy.

An. How you doe talke; I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world:

Old. L. In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd No more to th'Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L. Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to (know The secret of your conference?

An. My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying.

Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well.

An. Now I pray God, Amen.

Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes.

An. I doe not know What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blush□ng Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady; I shall not faile t'approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And say I spoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An. My honour'd Lord.

Old. L. Why this it is: See, see, I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it.

An. This strange to me.

Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?

An. Come you are pleasant.

Old. L. With your Theame, I could Ore‑mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore‑skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were?

An. Good Lady, Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To thinke what followes. The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her.

Old L. What doe you thinke me —

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets.

Enter two Vergers, with short siluer wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bea­ ring each a Siluer Crosse: Then a Gentleman Vsher bare­ headed, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some di­ stance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.

Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded.

King. What's the need? It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th'Authority allow'd, You may then spare that time.

Car. Bee't so, proceed.

Scri. Say, Henry K. of England, come into the Court.

Crier. Henry King of England, &c.

King. Heere.

Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court.

Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.

Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on me; for I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what haue I offended you? What cause Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to your will conformable: Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, Yes, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre I euer contracted your Desire? Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty yeares, and haue bene blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your Father, was reputed for A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many A yeare before. It is not to be question'd, That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly

Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile I will implore. If not, i'th'name of God Your pleasure be fulfill'd.

Wol. You haue heere Lady, (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning; Yea, the elect o'th'Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your owne quiet, as to rectifie What is vnsetled in the King.

Camp. His Grace Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It's fit this Royall Session do proceed, And that (without delay) their Arguments Be now produc'd, and heard.

Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake.

Wol. Your pleasure, Madam.

Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire.

Wol. Be patient yet.

Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me. I do beleeue (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth.

Wol. I do professe You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th'effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome, Ore‑topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistorie, Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much As you haue done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knowes I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, And to say so no more.

Queen. My Lord, my Lord, I am a simple woman, much too weake T'oppose your eunning. Y'are meek, & humble‑mouth'd You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekeness and Humilitie: but your Heart Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor, then Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, And to be iudged by him.

She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp. The Queene is obstinate, Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well. Shee's going away.

Kin. Call her againe.

Crier. Katherine, Q of England, come into the Court.

Gent. Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe.

Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more Vpon this businesse my appearance make, In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate, That man i'th'world, who shall report he ha's A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint‑like, Wife‑like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly Q□eenes: Shee's Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha's Carried her selfe towards me.

Wol. Most gracious Sir, In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these cares (for where I am rob'd and bound, There must I be vnloos'd, although not there At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or Laid any scruple in your way whi□h might Induce you to the question on't: or euer Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person?

Kin. My Lord Cardinall, I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, I free you from't: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies, that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd: But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him. Now, what mou'd me too't, I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th'inducement. Thus it came; giue heede (too't: My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd By th'Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on the debating And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter Mary: I'th'Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution, hee (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me; Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings, did throng And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe If it conceiu'd a male‑child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life too't; then The Graue does to th'dead: For her Male Issue, Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome

(Well worthy the best Heyre o'th'World) should not Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present heere together: that's to say, I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of Lincolne, you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke When I first mou'd you.

B. Lin. Very well my Liedge.

Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say How farre you satisfide me.

Lin. So please your Highnes, The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a State of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you are running heere.

Kin. I then mou'd you, My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; But by particular consent proceeded Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i'th'world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life And Kingly Dignity, we are contented To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature That's Parragon'd o'th'World

Camp. So please your Highnes, The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his Holinesse.

Kin. I may perceiue These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; I say, set on.

Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.

Queen. Take thy Lute wench, My Soule growes sad with troubles, Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working: SONG. ORpheus with his Lute made Trees, And the Mountaine tops that freeze, Bow themselues when he did sing. To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers, There had made a lasting Spring. Euery thing that heard him Play, Euen the Billowes of the Sea, Hung their heads, & then lay by. In sweet Musicke is such Art, Killing care, & griefe of heart, Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.

Enter a Gentleman.

Queen. How now?

Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the presence.

Queen. Would they speake with me?

Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam.

Queen. Pray their Graces To come neere: what can be their busines With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't, They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous: But all Hoods, make not Monkes.

Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.

Wols. Peace to your Highnesse.

Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, (I would be all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords?

Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you The full cause of our comming.

Queen. Speake it heere. There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience Deserues a Corner: would all other Women Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy Aboue a number) if my actions Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, Enuy and base opinion set against 'em, I know my life so euen. If your busines Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in; Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing.

Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima.

Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin; I am not such a Truant since my comming, As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspiti­ (ous: Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you, If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake; Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed, May be absolu'd in English.

Card. Noble Lady, I am sorry my integrity shoul breed, (And seruice to his Maiesty and you) So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way of Accusation, To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You haue too much good Lady: But to know How you stand minded in the waighty difference Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, And comforts to our cause.

Camp. Most honour'd Madam, My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure Both of his truth and him (which was too farre) Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace, His Seruice, and his Counsell.

Queen. To betray me. My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so) But how to make ye sodainly an Answere In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit; And to such men of grauity and learning; In truth I know not. I was set at worke, Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking Either for such men, or such businesse; For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause: Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse.

Wol. Madam, You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Queen. In England, But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, That any English man dare giue me Councell? Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure, (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, They that must weigh out my affllictions, They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, They are (as all my other comforts) far hence In mine owne Countrey Lords.

Camp. I would your Grace Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell.

Queen. How Sir?

Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much, Both for your Honour better, and your Cause: For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, You'l part away disgrac'd.

Wol. He tels you rightly.

Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits □ Iudge. That no King can corrupt.

Camp. Your rage mistakes vs.

Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye: Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd? I will not wish ye halfe my miseries, I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye.

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, You turne the good we offer, into enuy.

Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, And all such false Professors. Would you haue me (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty, If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me? Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already, His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, And all the Fellowship I hold now with him Is onely my Obedience. What can happen To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies Make me a Curse, like this.

Camp. Your feares are worse.

Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speak my selfe, Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory) Neuer yet branded with Suspition? Haue I, with all my full Affections Still met the King? Loud him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him? Almost forgot my Prayres to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords, Bring me a constant woman to her Husband, One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; And to that Woman (when she has done most) Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience.

Car. Madam, you wander from the good We ayme at.

Qu. My Lord, I dare not make my selfe so guiltie, To giue vp willingly that Noble Title Your Master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e're diuorce my Dignities.

Car. Pray heare me.

Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it: Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched Lady? I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing. Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty, No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me? Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd, Ile hang my head, and perish.

Car. If your Grace Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, The way of our Profession is against it; We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience, So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes. I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper, A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, Those we professe, Peace‑makers, Friends, and Seruants.

Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so: You wrong your Vertues With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit As yours was, put into you, euer casts Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice.

Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords: And pray forgiue me; If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly, You know I am a Woman, lacking wit To make a seemely answer to such persons. Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie, He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers, Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges That little thought when she set footing heere, She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.

Exeunt

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine.

Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces, With these you beare alreadie.

Sur. I am ioyfull To meete the least occasion, that may giue me Remembrance of my Father‑in‑Law, the Duke, To be reueng'd on him.

Suf. Which of the Peeres Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did he regard The stampe of Noblenesse in any person Out of himselfe?

Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: What he deserues of you and me, I know: What we can do to him (though now the time Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot Barre his accesse to'th'King, neuer attempt Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft Ouer the King in's Tongue.

Nor. O feare him not, His spell in that is out: the King hath found Matter against him, that for euer marres The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled (Not to come off) in his displeasure.

Sur. Sir, I should be glad to heare such Newes as this Once euery houre.

Nor. Beleeue it, this is true. In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares, As I would wish mine Enemy.

Sur. How came His practises to light?

Suf. Most strangely.

Sur. O how? how?

Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th'eye o'th'King, wherein was read How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse To stay the Iudgement o'th'Diuorce; for if It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue My King is tangled in affection, to A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen.

Sur. Ha's the King this?

Suf. Beleeue it.

Sur. Will this worke?

Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts And hedges his owne way. But in this point, All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke After his Patients death; the King already Hath married the faire Lady.

Sur. Would he had.

Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, For I professe you haue it.

Sur. Now all my ioy Trace the Coniunction.

Suf. My Amen too't.

Nor. All mens.

Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords She is a gallant Creature, and compleate In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall In it be memoriz'd.

Sur. But will the King Digest this Letter of the Cardinals? The Lord forbid.

Nor. Marry Amen.

Suf. No, no: There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius, Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue, Ha's left the cause o'th'King vnhandled, and Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall, To second all his plot. I do assure you, The King cry'de Ha, at this.

Cham. Now God incense him, And let him cry Ha, lowder.

Norf. But my Lord When returnes Cranmer?

Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce, Together with all famous Colledges Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) His second Marriage shall be publishd, and Her Coronation. Katherine no more Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, And Widdow to Prince Arthur.

Nor. This same Cranmer's A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine In the Kings businesse.

Suf. He has, and we shall see him For it, an Arch‑byshop.

Nor. So I heare.

Suf. 'Tis so. Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. The Cardinall.

Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody.

Car. The Packet Cromwell, Gau't you the King?

Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed‑chamber.

Card. Look'd he o'th'inside of the Paper?

Crom. Presently He did vnseale them; and the first he view'd, He did it with a Serious minde: a heede Was in his countenance. You he bad Attend him heere this Morning.

Card. Is he ready to come abroad?

Crom. I thinke by this he is.

Card. Leaue me a while. Exit Cromwell. It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson, The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke?

Nor. He's discontented.

Suf. Maybe he heares the King Does whet his Anger to him.

Sur. Sharpe enough, Lord for thy Iustice.

Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman? A Knights Daughter To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous And well deseruing? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to Our cause, that she should lye i'th'bosome of Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp An Heretique, an Arch‑one; Cranmer, one Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, And is his Oracle.

Nor. He is vex'd at something.

Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Sur. I would 'twer somthing yt would fret the string, The Master‑cord on's heart.

Suf. The King, the King.

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his owne portion? And what expence by'th'houre Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th'name of Thrift Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, Saw you the Cardinall?

Nor. My Lord, we haue Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground, Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe, Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures We haue seene him set himselfe.

King. It may well be, There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, Papers of State he sent me, to peruse As I requir'd: and wot you what I found There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly) Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing The seuerall parcels of his Plate his Treasure, Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which I finde at such proud Rate, that it out‑speakes Posession of a Subiect.

Nor. It's Heauens will, Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, To blesse your eye withall.

King. If we did thinke His Contemplation were aboue the earth, And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth His serious considering.

King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.

Car. Heauen forgiue me, Euer God blesse your Highnesse.

King. Good my Lord, You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which You were now running o're: you haue scarse time To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that I deeme you an ill Husband, and am gald To haue you therein my Companion.

Car. Sir, For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which I beare i'th'State: and Nature does require Her times of preseruation, which perforce I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, Must giue my tendance to.

King. You haue said well.

Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, (As I will lend you cause) my doing Well, With my well saying.

King. 'Tis well said agen, And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you, He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne His word vpon you. Since I had my Office, I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow My Bounties vpon you.

Car. What should this meane?

Sur. The Lord increase this businesse.

King. Haue I not made you The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now pronounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say withall If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?

Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, Haue euer come too short of my Desires, Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed To'th'good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it.

King. Fairely answer'd: A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is Therein illustrated, the Honor of it Does pay the Act of it, as i'th'contrary The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues particular, be more To me your Friend, then any.

Car. I do professe, That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours.

King. 'Tis Nobly spoken: Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What appetite you haue.

Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering.

Car. What should this meane? What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th'Accompt Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new deuice to beate this from his Braines? I know't will stirre him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th'Pope? The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, And no man see me more.

Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you To render vp rhe Great Seale presently Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher‑house, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you heare further from his Highnesse.

Car. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so weighty.

Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?

Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?

Sur. The King that gaue it.

Car. It must be himselfe then.

Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest.

Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest: Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so.

Sur. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet sinne) 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 haire of his. Plague of your policie, You sent me Deputie for Ireland, Farre from his succour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him: Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty, Absolu'd him with an Axe.

Wol. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any priuate malice in his end, His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse. If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you, You haue as little Honestie, as Honor, That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master, Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his follies.

Sur. By my Soule, Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, Thou should'st feele My Sword i'th'life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance? And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes.

Card. All Goodnesse Is poyson to thy stomacke.

Sur. Yes, that goodnesse Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets You writ to'th'Pope, against the King: your goodnesse Since you prouoke me, shail be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble, As you respect the common good, the State Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues, (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen) Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile startle you Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall.

Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in Charitie against it.

Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: But thus much, they are foule ones.

Wol. So much fairer And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knowes my Truth.

Sur. This cannot saue you: I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember Some of these Articles, and out they shall. Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall, You'l shew a little Honestie.

Wol. Speake on Sir, I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, It is to see a Nobleman want manners.

Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; Haue at you. First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a Legate, by which power You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops.

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King To be your Seruant.

Suf. Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Councell, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale.

Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd Your holy‑Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine.

Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with.

Cham. O my Lord, Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him So little, of his great Selfe.

Sur. I forgiue him.

Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, Bccause all those things you haue done of late By your power Legatiue within this Kingdome, Fall into'th'compasse of a Premunire; That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements, Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge.

Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations How to liue better. For your stubborne answer About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs, The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.

Exeunt all but Wolsey.

Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me. Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse. This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: This many Summers in a Sea of Glory, But farre beyond my depth: my high‑blowne Pride At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me. Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye, I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours? There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine, More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer, Neuer to hope againe. Enter Cromwell, standing amazed. Why how now Cromwell?

Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir.

Car. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed.

Crom. How does your Grace.

Card. Why well: Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell, I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, A peace aboue all earthly Dignities, A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.) O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen.

Crom. I am glad your Grace, Ha's made that right vse of it.

Card. I hope I haue: I am able now (me thinkes) (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele) To endure more Miseries, and greater farre Then my Weake‑hearted Enemies, dare offer. What Newes abroad?

Crom. The heauiest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the King.

Card. God blesse him.

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen Lord Chancellor, in your place.

Card. That's somewhat sodain. But he's a Learned man. May he continue Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice For Truths‑sake, and his Conscience; that his bones, When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings, May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him. What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; Install'd Lord Arch‑byshop of Canterbury.

Card. That's Newes indeed.

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrecie long married, This day was view'd in open, as his Queene, Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now Onely about her Corronation.

Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe, O Cromwell, The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories In that one woman, I haue lost for euer. No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors, Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel, I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King (That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him, What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee: Some little memory of me, will stirre him (I know his Noble Nature) not to let Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide For thine owne future safety.

Crom. O my Lord, Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo So good, so Noble, and so true a Master? Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron, With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord. The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres For euer, and for euer shall be yours.

Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare In all my Miseries: But thou hast forc'd me (Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman. Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee, Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory, And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor, Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in: A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it. Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me: Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more then Honesty. Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not; Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. Serue the King: And prythee leade me in: There take an Inuentory of all I haue, To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heauen, is all, I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age Haue left me naked to mine Enemies.

Crom. Good Sir, haue patience.

Card. So I haue. Farewell The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.

Exeunt.

Aetus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe.

2 So are you.

1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation.

2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall.

1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow, This generall ioy.

2 'Tis well: The Citizens I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds, As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward In Celebration of this day with Shewes, Pageants, and Sights of Honor.

1 Neuer greater, Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir.

2 May I be bold to aske what that containes, That Paper in your hand.

1 Yes, 'tis the List Of those that claime their Offices this day, By custome of the Coronation. The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke, He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest.

1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs, I should haue beene beholding to your Paper: But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?

1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order, Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not: And to be short, for not Appearance, and The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd, And the late Marriage made of none effect: Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton, Where she remaines now sicke.

2 Alas good Lady. The Trumpets sound: Stand close, The Queene is comming.

Ho‑boyes.

The Order of the Coronation.

Musicke.

Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State, and then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know: Who's that that beares the Scepter?

1 Marquesse Dorset, And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod.

2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee The Duke of Suffolke.

1 'Tis the same: high Steward.

2 And that my Lord of Norfolke?

1 Yes.

2 Heauen blesse thee, Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on. Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell; Our King has all the Indies in his Armes, And more, and, richer, when he straines that Lady, I cannot blame his Conscience.

1 They that beare The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons Of the Cinque Ports.

2 Those men are happy, And so are all, are neere her. I take it, she that carries vp the Traine, Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke.

1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses.

2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed, And sometimes falling ones.

2 No more of that.

Enter third Gentleman.

1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?

3 Among the crow'd i'th'Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled With the meere ranknesse of their ioy.

2 You saw the Ceremony?

3 That I did.

1 How was it?

3 Well worth the seeing.

2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?

3 As well as I am able. The rich streame Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so, In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely The Beauty of her Person to the People. Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman That euer lay by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noyse arose, As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest, As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes, (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces Bin loose, this day they had been lost. Such ioy I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women, That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen So strangely in one peece.

2 But what follow'd?

3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint‑like Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly, Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people: When by the Arch‑byshop of Canterbury, She had all the Royall makings of a Queene; As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne, The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the same full State pac'd backe againe To Yorke‑Place, where the Feast is held.

1 Sir, You must no more call it Yorke‑place, that's past: For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost, 'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White‑Hall.

3 I know it: But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me.

2 What two Reuerend Byshops Were those that went on each side of the Queene?

3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary: The other London.

2 He of Winchester Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops, The vertuous Cranmer.

3 All the Land knowes that: How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him.

2 Who may that be, I pray you.

3 Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteeme with th'King, and truly A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him Master o'th'Iewell House, And one already of the Priuy Councell.

2 He will deserue more.

3 Yes without all doubt. Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way, Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: Something I can command. As I walke thither, Ile tell ye more.

Both. You may command vs Sir.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her Gentleman Vsher, and Patience her Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace?

Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death: My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th'Earth, Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire, So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease. Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey Was dead?

Grif. Yes Madam: but I thanke your Grace Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't.

Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. If well, he stept before me happily For my example.

Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam, For after the stout Earle Northumberland Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer, He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill He could not sit his Mule.

Kath. Alas poore man.

Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him; To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the stormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Giue him a little earth for Charity. So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this, About the houre of eight, which he himselfe Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, He gaue his Honors to the world agen, His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace.

Kath. So may he rest, His Faults lye gently on him: Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him, And yet with Charity. He was a man Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play, His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th'presence He would say vntruths, and be euer double Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull. His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue The Clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble Madam: Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse To heare me speake his good now?

Kath. Yes good Griffith, I were malicious else.

Grif. This Cardinall, Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one: Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading: Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not: But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. And though he were vnsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam, He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him, Vnwilling to out‑liue the good that did it. The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous, So excellent in Art, and still so rising, That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue. His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him: For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, And found the Blessednesse of being little. And to adde greater Honors to his Age Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God.

Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald, No other speaker of my liuing Actions, To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption, But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie, (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him. Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower, I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, Cause the Musitians play me that sad note I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating On that Cœlestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and solemne Musicke.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision.

Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, and golden Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands. They first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first two hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make re­ uerend Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deli­ uer the same to the other next two, who obserue the same or­ der in their Changes, and holding the Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland to the last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it were by inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and holdeth vp her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Musicke continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye?

Grif. Madam, we are heere.

Kath. It is not you I call for, Saw ye none enter since I slept?

Grif. None Madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun? They promis'd me eternall Happinesse, And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly.

Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames Possesse your Fancy.

Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue, They are harsh and heauy to me.

Musicke ceases.

Pati. Do you note How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine? How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes, And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?

Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray.

Pati. Heauen comfort her.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. And't like your Grace—

Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow, Deserue we no more Reuerence?

Grif. You are too blame, Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele.

Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon, My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you.

Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow Let me ne're see againe. Exit Messeng. Enter Lord Capuchius. If my sight faile not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius.

Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant.

Kath. O my Lord, The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But I pray you, What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble Lady, First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next The Kings request, that I would visit you, Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me Sends you his Princely Commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a Pardon after Execution; That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me: But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers. How does his Highnesse?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish, When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. No Madam.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Most willing Madam.

Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter, The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her, Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding. She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature, I hope she will deserue well; and a little To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him, Heauen knowes how deerely. My next poore Petition, Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie Vpon my wretched women, that so long Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully, Of which there is not one, I dare auow (And now I should not lye) but will deserue For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule, For honestie, and decent Carriage A right good Husband (let him be a Noble) And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em. The last is for my men, they are the poorest, (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me) That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em, And something ouer to remember me by. If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life And able meanes, we had not parted thus. These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord, By that you loue the deerest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to soules departed, Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King To do me this last right.

Cap. By Heauen I will, Or let me loose the fashion of a man.

Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse: Say his long trouble now is passing Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him (For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience, Vou must not leaue me yet. I must to bed, Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench, Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me, Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me. I can no more.

Exeunt leading Katherine.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Louell.

Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not.

Boy. It hath strooke.

Gard. These should be houres for necessities, Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature With comforting repose, and not for vs To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas: Whether so late?

Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord?

Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero With the Duke of Suffolke.

Lou. I must to him too Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue.

Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter? It seemes you are in hast: and if there be No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke (As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haue In them a wilder Nature, then the businesse That seekes dispatch by day.

Lou. My Lord, I loue you; And durst commend a secret to your eare Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor They say in great Extremity, and fear'd Shee'l with the Labour, end.

Gard. The fruite she goes with I pray for heartily, that it may finde Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd vp now.

Lou. Me thinkes I could Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes Shee's a good Creature, and sweet‑Ladie do's Deserue our better wishes.

Gard. But Sir, Sir, Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious, And let me tell you, it will ne're be well, 'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee Sleepe in their Graues.

Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two The most remark'd i'th'Kingdome; as for Cromwell, Beside that of the Iewell‑House, is made Master O'th'Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir, Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments, With which the Lime will loade him. Th'Archbyshop Is the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speak One syllable against him?

Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd To speake my minde of him: and indeed this day, Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue Incenst the Lords o'th'Councell, that he is (For so I know he is, they know he is) A most Arch‑Heretique, a Pestilence That does infect the Land: with which, they moued Haue broken with the King, who hath so farre Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace, And Princely Care, fore‑seeing those fell Mischiefes, Our Reasons layd before him, hath commanded To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your Affaires I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.

Exit Gardiner and Page.

Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant.

Enter King and Suffolke.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night, My mindes not on't, you are too hard for me.

Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before.

King. But little Charles, Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play. Now Louel, from the Queene what is the Newes.

Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her What you commanded me, but by her woman, I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse Most heartily to pray for her.

King. What say'st thou? Ha? To pray for her? What, is she crying out?

Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made Almost each pang, a death.

King. Alas good Lady.

Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of Your Highnesse with an Heire.

King. 'Tis midnight Charles, Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember Th'estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone, For I must thinke of that, which company Would not be friendly too.

Suf. I wish your Highnesse A quiet night, and my good Mistris will Remember in my Prayers.

King. Charles good night. Exit Suffolke. Well Sir, what followes?

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch‑byshop, As you commanded me.

King. Ha? Canterbury?

Den. I my good Lord.

King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?

Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure.

King. Bring him to Vs.

Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake, I am happily come hither.

Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King. Auoyd the Gallery. Louel seemes to stay. Ha? I haue said. Be gone. What?

Exeunt Louell and Denny.

Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus? 'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well.

King. How now my Lord? You do desire to know wherefore I sent for you.

Cran. It is my dutie T'attend your Highnesse pleasure.

King. Pray you arise My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie: Come, you and I must walke a turne together: I haue Newes to tell you. Come, come, giue me your hand. Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake, And am right sorrie to repeat what followes. I haue, and most vnwillingly of late Heard many greeuous. I do say my Lord Greeuous complaints, of you; which being consider'd, Haue mou'd Vs, aud our Councell, that you shall This Morning come before vs, where I know You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe, But that till further Triall, in those Charges Which will require your Answer, you must take Your patience to you, and be well contented To make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vs It fits we thus, proceed, or else no witnesse Would come against you.

Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse, And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues, Then I my selfe, poore man.

King. Stand vp, good Canterbury, Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp, Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame, What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd You would haue giuen me your Petition, that I should haue tane some paines, to bring together Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you Without indurance further.

Cran. Most dread Liege, The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie: If they shall faile, I with mine Enemies Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not, Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothing What can be said against me.

King. Know you not How your state stands i'th'world, with the whole world? Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practises Must beare the same proportion, and not euer The Iustice and the Truth o'th'question carries The dew o'th'Verdict with it; at what ease Might corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt To sweare against you: Such things haue been done. You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke, I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then your Master, Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too, You take a Precepit for no leape of danger, And woe your owne destruction.

Cran. God, and your Maiesty Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me.

King. Be of good cheere, They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too: Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning see You do appeare before them. If they shall chance In charging you with matters, to commit you: The best perswasions to the contrary Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie Th'occasion shall instruct you. If intreaties Will render you no remedy, this Ring Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps: He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother, I sweare he is true‑hearted, and a soule None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone, And do as I haue bid you. Exit Cranmer. He ha's strangled his Language in his teares.

Enter Olde Lady.

Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you?

Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good Angels Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person Vnder their blessed wings.

King. Now by thy lookes I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd? Say I, and of a boy.

Lady. I, I my Liege, And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle Promises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen Desires your Visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you, As Cherry, is to Cherry.

King. Louell.

Lou. Sir.

King. Giue her an hundred Markes. Ile to the Queene.

Exit King.

Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more. An ordinary Groome is for such payment. I will haue more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the Gyrle was like to him? Ile Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis hot, Ile put it to the issue.

Exit Ladie.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury.

Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman That was lent to me from the Councell, pray'd me To make great hast. All fast? What meanes this? Hoa? Who waites there? Sure you know me?

Enter Keeper.

Keep. Yes, my Lord: But yet I cannot helpe you.

Cran. Why?

Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for.

Enter Doctor Buts.

Cran. So.

Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad I came this way so happily. The King Shall vnderstand it presently.

Exit Buts

Cran. 'Tis Buts. The Kings Physitian, as he past along How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me; Pray heauen he sound not my disgrace: for certaine This is of purpose laid by some that hate me, (God turne their hearts, I neuer sought their malice) To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me Wait else at doore: a fellow Councellor 'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes. But their pleasures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter the King, and Buts, at a Windowe aboue.

Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight.

King. What's that Buts?

Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day.

Kin. Body a me: where is it?

Butts, There my Lord: The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Purseuants, Pages, and Foot‑boyes.

Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed. Is this the Honour they doe one another? 'Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought They had parted so much honesty among 'em, At least good manners; as not thus to suffer A man of his Place, and so neere our fauour To dance attendance on their Lordships pleasures, And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets: By holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery; Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close: We shall heare more anon.

A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed vnder the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end of the Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey, Lord Cham­ berlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as Secretary.

Chan. Speake to the businesse, M. Secretary; Why are we met in Councell?

Crom. Please your Honours, The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury.

Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it?

Crom. Yes.

Norf. Who waits there?

Keep. Without my Noble Lords?

Gard. Yes.

Keep. My Lord Archbishop: And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures.

Chan. Let him come in.

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

Cranmer approches the Councell Table.

Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry To sit heere at this present, and behold That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men In our owne natures fraile, and capable Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty And want of wisedome, you that best should teach vs, Haue misdemean'd your selfe, and not a little: Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines (For so we are inform'd) with new opinions, Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies; And not reform'd, may proue pernicious.

Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses, Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle; But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em, Till they obey the mannage. If we suffer Out of our easinesse and childish pitty To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse; Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then? Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours, The vpper Germany can deerely witnesse: Yet freshly pittied in our memories.

Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd, And with no little study, that thy teaching And the strong course of my Authority, Might goe one way, and safely; and the end Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing, (I speake it with a single heart, my Lords) A man that more detests, more stirres against, Both in his priuate Conscience, and his place, Defacers of a publique peace then I doe: Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart With lesse Allegeance in it. Men that make Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment; Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your Lordships, That in this case of Iustice, my Accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely vrge against me.

Suff. Nay, my Lord, That cannot be; you are a Counsellor, And by that vertue no man dare accuse you.

Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more mo­ (ment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure And our consent, for better tryall of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower, Where being but a priuate man againe, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More then (I feare) you are prouided for.

Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you, You are alwayes my good Friend, if your will passe, I shall both finde your Lordship, Iudge and Iuror, You are so mercifull. I see your end, 'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord Become a Churchman, better then Ambition: Win straying Soules with modesty againe, Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe, Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience, I make as little doubt as you doe conscience, In doing dayly wrongs. I could say more, But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest.

Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary, That's the plaine truth; your painted glosse discouers To men that vnderstand you, words and weaknesse.

Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little, By your good fauour, too sharpe; Men of Noble, How euer faultly, yet should finde respect For what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty, To load a falling man.

Gard. Good M. Secretary, I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst Of all this Table say so.

Crom. Why my Lord?

Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer Of this new Sect? ye are not sound.

Crom. Not sound?

Gard. Not sound I say.

Crom. Would you were halfe so honest: Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares.

Gard. I shall remember this bold Language.

Crom. Doe. Remember your bold life too.

Cham. This is too much; Forbeare for shame my Lords.

Gard. I haue done.

Crom. And I.

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith, You be conuaid to th'Tower a Prisoner; There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords.

All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to th'Tower my Lords?

Gard. What other, Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome: Let some o'th'Guard be ready there.

Enter the Guard.

Cran. For me? Must I goe like a Traytor thither?

Gard. Receiue him, And see him safe i'th'Tower.

Cran. Stay good my Lords, I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords, By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister.

Cham. This is the Kings Ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling, 'Twold fall vpon our selues.

Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords The King will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. Tis now too certaine; How much more is his Life in value with him? Would I were fairely out on't.

Crom. My mind gaue me, In seeking tales and Informations Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell And his Disciples onely enuy at, Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye.

Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate.

Gard. Dread Soueraigne, How much are we bound to Heauen, In dayly thankes; that gaue vs such a Prince; Not onely good and wise, but most religious: One that in all obedience, makes the Church The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen That holy duty out of deare respect, His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare The cause betwixt her, and this great offender.

Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not To heare such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin, and base to hide offences, To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell, And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me: But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody. Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. By all that's holy, he had better starue, Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not.

Sur. May it please your Grace;—

Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me, I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding, And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none: Was it discretion Lords, to let this man, This good man (few of you deserue that Title) This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot‑boy At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him, Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see, More out of Malice then Integrity, Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane, Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue.

Chan. Thus farre My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace, To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall, And faire purgation to the world then malice, I'm sure in me.

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him, Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it. I will say thus much for him, if a Prince May be beholding to a Subiect; I Am for his loue and seruice, so to him. Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him; Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee. That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme, You must be Godfather, and answere for her.

Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory In such an honour: how may I deserue it, That am a poore and humble Subiect to you?

Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones; You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will these please you? Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace, and loue this man.

Gard. With a true heart, And Brother; loue I doe it.

Cran. And let Heauen Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation.

Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true (hearts, The common voyce I see is verified Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer: Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long To haue this young one made a Christian. As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine: So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues, leaue your gaping: Within. Good M. Porter I belong to th'Larder.

Port. Belong to th'Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab‑tree staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings? Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude Raskalls?

Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em f□om the dore with Cannons, To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe On May‑day Morning. which will neuer be: We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em.

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in? As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote, (You see the poore remainder) could distribute, I made no spare Sir.

Port. You did nothing Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold‑maker: Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe, And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her. Within. Do you heare M. Porter?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good M. Puppy, Keepe the dore close Sirha.

Man. What would you haue me doe?

Por. What should you doe, But knock 'em downe by th'dozens? Is this More fields to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs? Blesse me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a thousand, here will bee Father, God‑father, and all to­ gether.

Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasi­ er by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dog­ dayes now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that Fire­ Drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there like a Morter‑piece to blow vs. There was a Habberda­ shers Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me, till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once, and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o'th'Strond where she was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at length they came to th'broome staffe to me, I defide 'em stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot, deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely.

Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse, and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limehouse, their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two Beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o'me: what a Multitude are heere? They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming, As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters? These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes? Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these Your faithfull friends o'th'Suburbs? We shall haue Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies, When they passe backe from the Christening?

Por. And't please your Honour, We are but men; and what so many may doe, Not being torne a pieces, we haue done: An Army cannot rule 'em.

Cham. As I liue, If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all By th'heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues, And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound, Th'are come already from the Christening, Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes.

Por. Make way there, for the Princesse.

Man. You great fellow, Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake.

Por. You i'th'Chamblet, get vp o'th'raile, Ile pecke you o're the pales else.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L. Maior, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of Suffolke, two Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening Guifts: Then foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, under which the Dutchesse of Norfolke, Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other Godmother, and La­ dies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Gar­ ter speakes.

Gart. Heauen From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life, Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty Princesse of England Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen, My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady, Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy, May hourely fall vpon ye.

Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop: What is her Name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

Kin. Stand vp Lord, With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee, into whose hand, I giue thy Life.

Cran. Amen.

Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall; I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady, When she ha's so much English.

Cran. Let me speake Sir, For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter, Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth. This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her; Though in her Cradle; yet now promises Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings, Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be, (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse) A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her, And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is, With all the Vertues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her, Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her: She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her; Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne, And hang their heads with sorrow: Good growes with her. In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety, Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours. God shall be truely knowne, and those about her, From her shall read the perfect way of Honour, And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood. Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix, Her Ashes new create another Heyre, As great in admiration as her selfe. So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One, (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes) Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour Shall Star‑like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror, That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant, Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him; Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine, His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,

Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish, And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches, To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children Shall see this, and blesse Heauen.

Kin. Thou speakest wonders.

Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England, An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it. Would I had knowne no more: But the must dye, She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin, A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe To th'ground, and all the World shall mourne her.

Kin. O Lord Archbishop Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before This happy Child, did I get any thing. This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me, That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker. I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior, And you good Brethren, I am much beholding: I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence, And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords, Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye, She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke 'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay: This Little‑One shall make it Holy‑day.

Exeunt.

THE EPILOGVE.

TIs ten to one, this Play can neuer please

All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,

And sleepe an Act or two; but tbose we feare

W'haue frighted with our Tumpets: so 'tis cleare,

They'll say tis naught. Others to heare the City

Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,

Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare

All the expected good w'are like to heare.

For this Play at this time, is onely in

The mercifull construction of good women,

For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,

And say twill doe; I know within a while,

All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,

If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.