Imágenes de páginas

Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour:
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right

use of it.

Wol. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)

To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

[merged small][ocr errors]

The heaviest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king. Wol.

God bless him! Crom. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place.


That's somewhat sudden : But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em! What more?

[ocr errors]

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate

Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And,-pr'ythee, lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny: 'tis the king's my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.

So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.



Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, SCENE I-A street in Westminster. Enter Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

Wol. That's news, indeed. Crom. Last, that the lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was view'd in open, as his queen, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.
O Cromwell,

The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature,) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use2 now, and provide
For thine own future safety.

Crom. O my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.The king shall have my service; but my prayers For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. You are well met once again. 2 Gent.

And so are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and behold

The lady Anne pass from her coronation?

2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en

[blocks in formation]

'Tis well: The citizens,

I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds;
As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
1 Gent.

Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?

1 Gent.
Yes; 'tis the list
Of those, that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl-marshal; you may read the rest.

2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those


I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 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 far hear me, Cromwell; And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thee. Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.

(1) The chancellor is the guardian of orphans.

1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off

She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,

(2) Interest.

Enter a third Gentleman.

And the late marriage1 made of none effect: Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent.

Alas, good lady![Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.


A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter

1. Two judges.

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

3. Choristers singing. [Music. 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head, a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

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

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

and Winchester.

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.

[blocks in formation]

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing. 2 Gent.

Good sir, speak it to us.

3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off A distance from her; while her grace sat down To rest a while, some half an hour, or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever lay by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy never saw before. Great-bellied women, That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press, And make them reel before them. No man living Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece. 2 Gent. But, pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces

[ocr errors]

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

Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly,
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.--"
--These I When by the archbishop of Canterbury


Who's that, that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent. Marquis Dorset: And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that should be

[blocks in formation]

Of the Cinque-ports.

She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent.
Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall.
3 Gent.

Sir, you

I know it;

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 Gent. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen? 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are The other, London.

near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars, indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones, 1 Gent.

No more of that. [Exit procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.

(1) The marriage lately considered as valid.

[blocks in formation]

And one, already, of the privy-council.
2 Gent. He will deserve more.
3 Gent.
Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests;
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.

This cardinal,

I were malicious else. Grif. Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to6 much honour. From his cradle,' He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading: Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, SCENE II-Kimbolton. Enter Katharine, dow-(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, ager, sick; led between Griffith and Patience.

You may command us, sir. [Exe.

Grif. How does your grace?
Ó, Griffith, sick to death:
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair;-
So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?

Grif. Yes, madam; but, I think, your grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.
Kath. Prythee, good Griffith, tell me how he

If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,2
For my example.
Well, the voice goes, madam:
For after the stout earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
(As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,
He could not sit his mule.


Alas! poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads,3 he came to


Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave these words,-O father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight (which he himself
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity,-He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach,4 ever ranking
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: I'the presences
He would say untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning: He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?


Yes, good Griffith;


He was most princely: Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in
Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God.
Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth, and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!→→
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower :
I have not long to trouble thee.-Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and solemn music.

Grif. She is aleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her;-Softly, gentle Patience. The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverent court'sies; then the two that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of re joicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye
all gone?

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.

It is not you I call for :
Saw ye none enter, since I slept?
None, madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed

(1) This scene is above any other part of Shak-Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
speare's tragedies, and perhaps above any scene Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun
of any other poet; tender and pathetic, without They promis'd me eternal happiness;
gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices; without
the help of romantic circumstances, without im-
probable sallies of poetical lamentation, and with-
out any throes of tumultuous misery. JOHNSON.

(2) Haply.

(4) Pride.
(6) Formed for.

(3) By short stages.
(5) Of the king.

(7) Ipswich.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

Mess. An't like your grace,-
You are a saucy fellow:
Deserve we no more reverence?
You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this

Let me ne'er see again. [Exeunt Grif. and Mess.
Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.

If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.
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?

Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too

'Tis like a pardon after execution:
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now
am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?
Madam, in good health.
Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

No, madam.
[Giving it to Katharine.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.
Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his good-


The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh

ter :2

Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be3 a noble ;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have


The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me;—
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If Heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents:-And, good my lord,
By that you
love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.


By heaven, I will;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women.-When I am dead, good

Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Katharine.


SCENE 1-A gallery in the palace. Enter
Gardiner bishop of Winchester; a Page with a
torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell,
Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
It hath struck,
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.-Good hour of night, sir
Whither so late?

Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero
With the duke of Suffolk.


I must to him, too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the

In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.

It seems, you are in haste: an if there be No great offence belongs to't, give your friend Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature; I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is, that his noble grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long,

[blocks in formation]

My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

But, sir, sir,

Gar. Hear me, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves. Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Cromwell,

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him: The archbishop
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare

One syllable against him?
Yes, yes, sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,
Sir (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence

That does infect the land: with which they moved,
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented.3 He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your
servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page.
As Lovell is going out, enter the King, and the
Duke of Suffolk.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;

Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.—
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news!
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high-


Most heartily to pray for her.
K. Hen.

What say'st thou? ha!
To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
Lov. So said her woman; and that her suffer-
ance made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen. Alas, good lady! Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles, Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; For I must think of that, which company Will not be friendly to.

(1) Set on.


[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake;

I am happily come hither.

Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.

K. Hen.
Ha!-I have said.-Be gone.

Avoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.

[Exeunt Lovell and Denny.
Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he thus?
'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to
Wherefore I sent for you.

It is my duty,
To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen.

'Pray you, arise, My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me your hand.

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-

Have mov'd us and our council, that
you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: You a brother
of us,4

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.


I humbly thank your highness; And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, Than I myself, poor man.

K. Hen.
Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What mauner of man are you? My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that

I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you
Without indurance, further.
Most dread liege,
The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty;
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh5 not;

(4) One of the council,

(2) Told their minds.

(3) Summoned. (5) Value.

2 H

« AnteriorContinuar »