Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

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ALL IS TRUE

(HENRY VIII)

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND JOHN FLETCHER

ON 29 June 1613 the firing of cannon at the Globe Theatre ignited its thatch and burned it to the ground. According to a letter of 4 July the house was full of spectators who had come to see ‘a new play called All is True, which had been acted not passing two or three times before’. No one was hurt ‘except one man who was scalded with the fire by adventuring in to save a child which otherwise had been burnt’. This establishes the play’s date with unusual precision. Though two other accounts of the fire refer to a play ‘of’—which may mean simply ‘about’—Henry VIII, yet another two unequivocally call it All is True; and these words also end the refrain of a ballad about the fire. When the play came to be printed as the last of the English history plays—all named after kings—in the 1623 Folio it was as The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth. We restore the title by which it was known to its first audiences.

No surviving account of the fire says who wrote the play that caused it. In 1850, James Spedding (prompted by Tennyson) suggested that Shakespeare collaborated on it with John Fletcher (1579-1625). We have external evidence that the two dramatists worked together in or around 1613 on the lost Cardenio and on The Two Noble Kinsmen. For their collaboration in All is True the evidence is wholly internal, stemming from the initial perception of two distinct verse styles within the play; later, more rigorous examination of evidence provided by both the play’s language and its dramatic technique has convinced most scholars of Fletcher’s hand in it. The passages most confidently attributed to Shakespeare are Act 1, Scenes 1 and 2; Act 2, Scenes 3 and 4; Act 3, Scene 2 to line 204; and Act 5, Scene 1.

The historical material derives, often closely, from the chronicles of Raphael Holinshed and Edward Hall, supplemented by John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs (1563, etc.) for the Cranmer episodes in Act 5. It covers only part of Henry’s reign, from the opening description of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, of 1520, to the christening of Princess Elizabeth, in 1533. It depicts the increasing abuse of power by Cardinal Wolsey; the execution, brought about by Wolsey’s machinations, of the Duke of Buckingham; the King’s abandonment of his Queen, Katherine of Aragon; the rise to the King’s favour of Anne Boleyn; Wolsey’s disgrace; and the birth to Henry and Anne of a daughter instead of the hoped-for son.

Sir Henry Wotton, writing of the fire, said that the play represented ‘some principal pieces of the reign of Henry 8, which was set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty’. It has continued popular in performance for the opportunities that it affords for spectacle and for the dramatic power of certain episodes such as Buckingham’s speeches before execution (2.1), Queen Katherine’s defence of the validity of her marriage (2.4), Wolsey’s farewell to his greatness (3.2), and Katherine’s dying scene (4.2). Though the play depicts a series of falls from greatness, it works towards the birth of the future Elizabeth I, fulsomely celebrated in the last scene (not attributed to Shakespeare) along with her successor, the patron of the King’s Men.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

All Is True

Prologue Enter Prologue

PROLOGUE

I come no more to make you laugh. Things now

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe—

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow

We now present. Those that can pity here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear.

The subject will deserve it. Such as give

Their money out of hope they may believe,

May here find truth, too. Those that come to see

Only a show or two, and so agree

The play may pass, if they be still, and willing,

I’ll undertake may see away their shilling

Richly in two short hours. Only they

That come to hear a merry bawdy play,

A noise of targets, or to see a fellow

In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,

Will be deceived. For, gentle hearers, know

To rank our chosen truth with such a show

As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting

Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring

To make that only true we now intend,

Will leave us never an understanding friend.

Therefore, for goodness’ sake, and as you are known

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

Be sad as we would make ye. Think ye see

The very persons of our noble story

As they were living; think you see them great,

And followed with the general throng and sweat

Of thousand friends; then, in a moment, see

How soon this mightiness meets misery. 30

And if you can be merry then, I’ll say

A man may weep upon his wedding day.

Exit

1.1 ⌈A cloth of state throughout the play.⌉ Enter the Duke of Norfolk at one door; at the other door enter the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny

BUCKINGHAM (to Norfolk)

Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done

Since last we saw in France?

NORFOLK

I thank your grace,

Healthful, and ever since a fresh admirer

Of what I saw there.

BUCKINGHAM

An untimely ague

Stayed me a prisoner in my chamber when 5

Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,

Met in the vale of Ardres.

NORFOLK

’Twixt Guisnes and Ardres.

I was then present, saw them salute on horseback,

Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung

In their embracement as they grew together,

Which had they, what four throned ones could have

weighed

Such a compounded one?

BUCKINGHAM

All the whole time

I was my chamber’s prisoner.

NORFOLK

Then you lost

The view of earthly glory. Men might say

Till this time pomp was single, but now married

To one above itself. Each following day

Became the next day’s master, till the last

Made former wonders its. Today the French,

All clinquant all in gold, like heathen gods

Shone down the English; and tomorrow they

Made Britain India. Every man that stood

Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were

As cherubim, all gilt; the mesdames, too,

Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear

The pride upon them, that their very labour

Was to them as a painting. Now this masque

Was cried incomparable, and th‘ensuing night

Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings

Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,

As presence did present them. Him in eye

Still him in praise, and being present both,

’Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner

Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns—

For so they phrase ’em—by their heralds challenged

The noble spirits to arms, they did perform

Beyond thought’s compass, that former fabulous story

Being now seen possible enough, got credit

That Bevis was believed.

BUCKINGHAM

O, you go far!

NORFOLK

As I belong to worship, and affect

In honour honesty, the tract of ev’rything

Would by a good discourser lose some life

Which action’s self was tongue to. All was royal.

To the disposing of it naught rebelled.

Order gave each thing view. The office did

Distinctly his full function.

BUCKINGHAM

Who did guide—

I mean, who set the body and the limbs

Of this great sport together, as you guess?

NORFOLK

One, certes, that promises no element

In such a business.

BUCKINGHAM

I pray you who, my lord?

NORFOLK

All this was ordered by the good discretion

Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

BUCKINGHAM

The devil speed him! No man’s pie is freed

From his ambitious finger. What had he

To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder

That such a keech can, with his very bulk,

Take up the rays o’th’ beneficial sun,

And keep it from the earth.

NORFOLK

Surely, sir,

There’s in him stuff that puts him to these ends.

For being not propped by ancestry, whose grace

Chalks successors their way, nor called upon no

For high feats done to th’ crown, neither allied

To eminent assistants, but spider-like,

Out of his self-drawing web, a gives us note

The force of his own merit makes his way—

A gift that heaven gives for him which buys

A place next to the King.

ABERGAVENNY

I cannot tell

What heaven hath given him—let some graver eye

Pierce into that; but I can see his pride

Peep through each part of him. Whence has he that?

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard

Or has given all before, and he begins

A new hell in himself.

BUCKINGHAM

Why the devil,

Upon this French going out, took he upon him

Without the privity o’th’ King t’appoint

Who should attend on him? He makes up the file

Of all the gentry, for the most part such

To whom as great a charge as little honour

He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,

The honourable board of council out,

Must fetch him in, he papers.

ABERGAVENNY

I do know

Kinsmen of mine—three at the least—that have

By this so sickened their estates that never

They shall abound as formerly.

BUCKINGHAM

O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on ’em

For this great journey. What did this vanity

But minister communication of

A most poor issue?

NORFOLK

Grievingly I think

The peace between the French and us not values

The cost that did conclude it.

BUCKINGHAM

Every man,

After the hideous storm that followed, was

A thing inspired, and, not consulting, broke

Into a general prophecy—that this tempest,

Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded

The sudden breach on’t.

NORFOLK

Which is budded out—

For France hath flawed the league, and hath attached

Our merchants’ goods at Bordeaux.

ABERGAVENNY

Is it therefore

Th’ambassador is silenced?

NORFOLK

Marry is’t.

ABERGAVENNY

A proper title of a peace, and purchased

At a superfluous rate.

BUCKINGHAM

Why, all this business

Our reverend Cardinal carried.

NORFOLK

Like it your grace,

The state takes notice of the private difference

Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you—

And take it from a heart that wishes towards you

Honour and plenteous safety—that you read

The Cardinal’s malice and his potency

Together; to consider further that

What his high hatred would effect wants not

A minister in his power. You know his nature,

That he’s revengeful; and I know his sword

Hath a sharp edge—it’s long, and’t may be said no

It reaches far; and where ’twill not extend

Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,

You’ll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock

That I advise your shunning.

Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse containing the great seal borne before him. Enter with him certain of the guard, and two secretaries with papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to a secretary)

The Duke of Buckingham’s surveyor, ha?

Where’s his examination?

SECRETARY

Here, so please you.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Is he in person ready?

SECRETARY

Ay, please your grace.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

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

Exeunt Wolsey and his train

BUCKINGHAM

This butcher’s cur is venom-mouthed, and I

Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best

Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar’s book

Outworths a noble’s blood.

NORFOLK

What, are you chafed?

Ask God for temp’rance; that’s th’appliance only

Which your disease requires.

BUCKINGHAM

I read in’s looks

Matter against me, and his eye reviled

Me as his abject object. At this instant

He bores me with some trick. He’s gone to th’ King—

I’ll follow, and outstare him.

NORFOLK

Stay, my lord,

And let your reason with your choler question

What ’tis you go about. To climb steep hills

Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like

A full hot horse who, being allowed his way,

Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England

Can advise me like you. Be to yourself

As you would to your friend.

BUCKINGHAM

I’ll to the King,

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down

This Ipswich fellow’s insolence, or proclaim

There’s difference in no persons.

NORFOLK

Be advised.

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot

That it do singe yourself. We may outrun

By violent swiftness that which we run at,

And lose by over-running. Know you not

The fire that mounts the liquor till’t run o’er

In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised.

I say again there is no English soul

More stronger to direct you than yourself,

If with the sap of reason you would quench

Or but allay the fire of passion.

BUCKINGHAM

Sir,

I am thankful to you, and I’ll go along

By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow—

Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but

From sincere motions—by intelligence,

And proofs as clear as founts in July when

We see each grain of gravel, I do know

To be corrupt and treasonous.

NORFOLK

Say not ‘treasonous’.

BUCKINGHAM

To th’ King I’ll say’t, and make my vouch as strong

As shore of rock. Attend: this holy fox,

Or wolf, or both—for he is equal rav’nous

As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief

As able to perform’t, his mind and place

Infecting one another, yea, reciprocatly—

Only to show his pomp as well in France

As here at home, suggests the King our master

To this last costly treaty, th’interview

That swallowed so much treasure and, like a glass,

Did break i’th’ rinsing.

NORFOLK

Faith, and so it did.

BUCKINGHAM

Pray give me favour, sir. This cunning Cardinal,

The articles o‘th’ combination drew

As himself pleased, and they were ratified 170

As he cried ‘Thus let be’, to as much end

As give a crutch to th’ dead. But our count-Cardinal

Has done this, and ’tis well for worthy Wolsey,

Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows—

Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy

To th‘old dam, treason—Charles the Emperor,

Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt—

For ’twas indeed his colour, but he came

To whisper Wolsey—here makes visitation.

His fears were that the interview betwixt

England and France might through their amity

Breed him some prejudice, for from this league

Peeped harms that menaced him. Privily he

Deals with our Cardinal and, as I trow—

Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor

Paid ere he promised, whereby his suit was granted

Ere it was asked—but when the way was made,

And paved with gold, the Emperor thus desired

That he would please to alter the King’s course

And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,

As soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal

Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,

And for his own advantage.

NORFOLK

I am sorry

To hear this of him, and could wish he were

Something mistaken in’t.

BUCKINGHAM

No, not a syllable.

I do pronounce him in that very shape

He shall appear in proof.

Enter Brandon, a serjeant-at-arms before him, and two or three of the guard

BRANDON

Your office, serjeant, execute it.

SERJEANT

Sir.

(To Buckingham) My lord the Duke of Buckingham and

Earl

Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I

Arrest thee of high treason in the name

Of our most sovereign King.

BUCKINGHAM to Norfolk

Lo you, my lord,

The net has fall’n upon me. I shall perish

Under device and practice.

BRANDON

I am sorry

To see you ta’en from liberty to look on

The business present. ’Tis his highness’ pleasure

You shall to th’ Tower.

BUCKINGHAM

It will help me nothing

To plead mine innocence, for that dye is on me

Which makes my whit’st part black. The will of

heav’n

Be done in this and all things. I obey.

O, my lord Abergavenny, fare you well.

BRANDON

Nay, he must bear you company.

(To Abergavenny)

The King

Is pleased you shall to th’ Tower till you know

How he determines further.

ABERGAVENNY

As the Duke said,

The will of heaven be done and the King’s pleasure

By me obeyed.

BRANDON

Here is a warrant from

The King t’attach Lord Montague and the bodies

Of the duke’s confessor, John de la Car,

One Gilbert Perk, his chancellor—

BUCKINGHAM

So, so;

These are the limbs o’th’ plot. No more, I hope.

BRANDON

A monk o’th’ Chartreux.

BUCKINGHAM

O, Nicholas Hopkins?

BRANDON He.

BUCKINGHAM

My surveyor is false. The o’er-great Cardinal

Hath showed him gold. My life is spanned already.

I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,

Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on

By dark’ning my clear sun. (To Norfolk) My lord,

farewell.

Exeunt ⌈Norfolk at one door, Buckingham and Abergavenny under guard at another⌉

1.2 Cornetts. Enter King Henry leaning on Cardinal Wolsey’s shoulder. Enter with them Wolsey’s two secretaries, the nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovell. The King ascends to his seat under the cloth of state; Wolsey places himself under the King’s feet on his right side

KING HENRY to Wolsey

My life itself and the best heart of it

Thanks you for this great care. I stood i’th’ level

Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks

To you that choked it. Let be called before us

That gentleman of Buckingham’s. In person

I’ll hear him his confessions justify,

And point by point the treasons of his master

He shall again relate.

⌈CRIER⌉ (within)

Room for the Queen, ushered by the Duke of Norfolk.

Enter Queen Katherine, the Duke of Norfolk, and the Duke of Suffolk. She kneels. King Henry riseth from his state, takes her up, and kisses her

QUEEN KATHERINE

Nay, we must longer kneel. I am a suitor.

KING HENRY

Arise, and take place by us.

He placeth her by him

Half your suit

Never name to us. You have half our power,

The other moiety ere you ask is given.

Repeat your will and take it.

QUEEN KATHERINE

Thank your majesty.

That you would love yourself, and in that love

Not unconsidered leave your honour nor

The dignity of your office, is the point

Of my petition.

KING HENRY

Lady mine, proceed.

QUEEN KATHERINE

I am solicited, not by a few,

And those of true condition, that your subjects

Are in great grievance. There have been commissions

Sent down among ’em which hath flawed the heart

Of all their loyalties; wherein, although,

My good lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches

Most bitterly on you, as putter-on

Of these exactions, yet the King our master—

Whose honour heaven shield from soil—even he

escapes not

Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks

The sides of loyalty, and almost appears

In loud rebellion.

NORFOLK

Not ‘almost appears’—

It doth appear; for upon these taxations

The clothiers all, not able to maintain

The many to them ‘longing, have put off

The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,

Unfit for other life, compelled by hunger

And lack of other means, in desperate manner

Daring th’event to th’ teeth, are all in uproar,

And danger serves among them.

KING HENRY

Taxation?

Wherein, and what taxation? My lord Cardinal,

You that are blamed for it alike with us,

Know you of this taxation?

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Please you, sir,

I know but of a single part in aught

Pertains to th’ state, and front but in that file

Where others tell steps with me.

QUEEN KATHERINE

No, my lord?

You know no more than others? But you frame

Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome

To those which would not know them, and yet must

Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions

Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are

Most pestilent to th’ hearing, and to bear ’em

The back is sacrifice to th’ load. They say

They are devised by you, or else you suffer

Too hard an exclamation.

KING HENRY

Still exaction!

The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know,

Is this exaction?

QUEEN KATHERINE I am much too venturous

In tempting of your patience, but am boldened

Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief

Comes through commissions which compels from each

The sixth part of his substance to be levied

Without delay, and the pretence for this

Is named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths.

Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze

Allegiance in them. Their curses now

Live where their prayers did, and it’s come to pass

This tractable obedience is a slave

To each incensed will. I would your highness

Would give it quick consideration, for

There is no primer business.

KING HENRY

By my life,

This is against our pleasure.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

And for me,

I have no further gone in this than by

A single voice, and that not passed me but

By learned approbation of the judges. If I am

Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know

My faculties nor person yet will be

The chronicles of my doing, let me say

‘Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake

That virtue must go through. We must not stint

Our necessary actions in the fear

To cope malicious censurers, which ever,

As rav’nous fishes, do a vessel follow

That is new trimmed, but benefit no further

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,

By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is

Not ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft,

Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up

For our best act. If we shall stand still,

In fear our motion will be mocked or carped at,

We should take root here where we sit,

Or sit state-statues only.

KING HENRY

Things done well,

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;

Things done without example, in their issue

Are to be feared. Have you a precedent

Of this commission? I believe not any.

We must not rend our subjects from our laws

And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?

A trembling contribution! Why, we take

From every tree lop, bark, and part o‘th’ timber,

And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked

The air will drink the sap. To every county

Where this is questioned send our letters with

Free pardon to each man that has denied

The force of this commission. Pray look to’t—

I put it to your care.

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to a secretary) A word with you.

Let there be letters writ to every shire

Of the King’s grace and pardon.

(Aside to the secretary)

The grieved commons

Hardly conceive of me. Let it be noised

That through our intercession this revokement

And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you

Further in the proceeding.

Exit secretary

Enter Buckingham’s Surveyor

QUEEN KATHERINE (to the King)

I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham

Is run in your displeasure.

KING HENRY

It grieves many.

The gentleman is learned, and a most rare speaker,

To nature none more bound; his training such

That he may furnish and instruct great teachers

And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,

When these so noble benefits shall prove

Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,

They turn to vicious forms ten times more ugly

Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,

Who was enrolled ’mongst wonders—and when we

Almost with ravished list’ning could not find

His hour of speech a minute—he, my lady,

Hath into monstrous habits put the graces

That once were his, and is become as black

As if besmeared in hell. Sit by us. You shall hear—

This was his gentleman in trust of him—

Things to strike honour sad.

(To Wolsey)

Bid him recount

The fore-recited practices whereof

We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the Surveyor)

Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you

Most like a careful subject have collected

Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

KING HENRY (to the Surveyor)

Speak freely.

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

First, it was usual with him, every day

It would infect his speech, that if the King

Should without issue die, he’ll carry it so

To make the sceptre his. These very words

I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law,

Lord Abergavenny, to whom by oath he menaced

Revenge upon the Cardinal.

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the King)

Please your highness note

His dangerous conception in this point,

Not friended by his wish to your high person.

His will is most malignant, and it stretches

Beyond you to your friends.

QUEEN KATHERINE

My learned Lord Cardinal,

Deliver all with charity.

KING HENRY (to the surveyor) Speak on.

How grounded he his title to the crown

Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him

At any time speak aught?

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.

KING HENRY

What was that Hopkins?

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor, who fed him every minute

With words of sovereignty.

KING HENRY

How know’st thou this?

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

Not long before your highness sped to France,

The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish

Saint Lawrence Poutney, did of me demand

What was the speech among the Londoners

Concerning the French journey. I replied

Men feared the French would prove perfidious,

To the King’s danger; presently the Duke

Said ‘twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted

’Twould prove the verity of certain words

Spoke by a holy monk that oft, says he,

‘Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit

John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour

To hear from him a matter of some moment;

Whom after under the confession’s seal

He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke

My chaplain to no creature living but

To me should utter, with demure confidence

This pausingly ensued: “neither the King nor’s heirs”,

Tell you the Duke, “shall prosper. Bid him strive

To win the love o’th’ commonalty. The Duke

Shall govern England.” ’

QUEEN KATHERINE

If I know you well,

You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your office

On the complaint o’th’ tenants. Take good heed

You charge not in your spleen a noble person

And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed;

Yes, heartily beseech you.

KING HENRY

Let him on.

(To the Surveyor) Go forward.

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR On my soul I’ll speak but truth.

I told my lord the Duke, by th’ devil’s illusions

The monk might be deceived, and that ‘twas

dangerous

To ruminate on this so far until

It forged him some design which, being believed,

It was much like to do. He answered, ’Tush,

It can do me no damage’, adding further

That had the King in his last sickness failed,

The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads

Should have gone off.

KING HENRY

Ha? What, so rank? Ah, ha!

There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

I can, my liege.

KING HENRY

Proceed.

BIJCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR Being at Greenwich,

After your highness had reproved the Duke

About Sir William Bulmer—

KING HENRY

I remember

Such a time, being my sworn servant,

The Duke retained him his. But on—what hence?

RIICKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

‘If’, quoth he, ‘I for this had been committed’—

As to the Tower, I thought—‘I would have played

The part my father meant to act upon

Th’usurper Richard who, being at Salisbury,

Made suit to come in’s presence; which if granted,

As he made semblance of his duty, would

Have put his knife into him.’

KING HENRY

A giant traitor!

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the Queen)

Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,

And this man out of prison?

QUEEN KATHERINE

God mend all.

KING HENRY (to the Surveyor)

There’s something more would out of thee—what

sayst?

BUCKINGHAM’S SURVEYOR

After ‘the Duke his father’, with ‘the knife’,

He stretched him, and with one hand on his dagger,

Another spread on’s breast, mounting his eyes,

He did discharge a horrible oath whose tenor

Was, were he evil used, he would outgo

His father by as much as a performance

Does an irresolute purpose.

KING HENRY

There’s his period—

To sheathe his knife in us. He is attached.

Call him to present trial. If he may

Find mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none,

Let him not seek’t of us. By day and night,

He’s traitor to th’ height.

Flourish. Exeunt