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

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1.3 Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle

Men into such strange mysteries?

SANDS

New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous—

Nay, let ’em be unmanly—yet are followed.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

As far as I see, all the good our English

Have got by the late voyage is but merely

A fit or two o’th’ face. But they are shrewd ones,

For when they hold ’em you would swear directly

Their very noses had been counsellors

To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

SANDS

They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would

take it,

That never see ’em pace before, the spavin

Or spring-halt reigned among ’em.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Death, my lord,

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t

That sure they’ve worn out Christendom.

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell

How now—

What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

LOVELL

Faith, my lord,

I hear of none but the new proclamation

That’s clapped upon the court gate.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

What is’t for?

LOVELL

The reformation of our travelled gallants

That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our ’messieurs’

To think an English courtier may be wise

And never see the Louvre.

LOVELL

They must either,

For so run the conditions, leave those remnants

Of fool and feather that they got in France,

With all their honourable points of ignorance

Pertaining thereunto—as fights and fireworks,

Abusing better men than they can be

Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean

The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,

Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel—

And understand again like honest men,

Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it,

They may, cum privilegio, ‘oui’ away

The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.

SANDS

‘Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases

Are grown so catching.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities!

LOVELL

Ay, marry,

There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresons

Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.

A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.

SANDS

The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,

For sure there’s no converting of ’em. Now

An honest country lord, as I am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong

And have an hour of hearing, and, by’r Lady,

Held current music, too.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Well said, Lord Sands.

Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet?

SANDS

No, my lord,

Nor shall not while I have a stump.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN (to Lovell)

Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a-going?

LOVELL

To the Cardinal’s.

Your lordship is a guest too.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

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 kingdom, I’ll assure you.

LOVELL

That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us.

His dews fall everywhere.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

No doubt he’s noble.

He had a black mouth that said other of him.

SANDS

He may, my lord; he’s wherewithal. In him

Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.

Men of his way should be most liberal.

They are set here for examples.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

True, they are so,

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays.

Your lordship shall along. (To Lovell) Come, good Sir

Thomas,

We shall be late else, which I would not be,

For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,

This night to be comptrollers.

SANDS

I am your lordship’s.

Exeunt

1.4 Hautboys. ⌈Enter servants with⌉ a small table for Cardinal Wolsey ⌈Which they place⌉ under the cloth of state, and a longer table for the guests. Then enter at one door Anne Boleyn and divers other ladies and gentlemen as guests, and at another door enter Sir Henry Guildford

GUlLDFORD

Ladies, a general welcome from his grace

Salutes ye all. This night he dedicates

To fair content and you. None here, he hopes,

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad. He would have all as merry

As feast, good company, good wine, good welcome

Can make good people.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell

(To the Lord Chamberlain) O, my lord, you’re tardy.

The very thought of this fair company

Clapped wings to me.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.

SANDS

Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal

But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these

Should find a running banquet, ere they rested,

I think would better please ’em. By my life,

They are a sweet society of fair ones.

LOVELL

O, that your lordship were but now confessor

To one or two of these.

SANDS

I would I were.

They should find easy penance.

LOVELL

Faith, how easy?

SANDS

As easy as a down bed would afford it.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?

(To Guildford)

Sir Harry,

Place you that side, I’ll take the charge of this.

They sit about the longer table. A noise within

His grace is ent‘ring. Nay, you must not freeze—

Two women placed together makes cold weather.

My lord Sands, you are one will keep ’em waking.

Pray sit between these ladies.

SANDS

By my faith,

And thank your lordship.

He sits between Anne and another

By your leave, sweet ladies.

If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me.

I had it from my father.

ANNE

Was he mad, sir?

SANDS

O, very mad; exceeding mad—in love, too.

But he would bite none. Just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

He kisses her

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Well said, my lord.

So now you’re fairly seated. Gentlemen,

The penance lies on you if these fair ladies

Pass away frowning.

SANDS For my little cure,

Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey who takes his seat at the small table under the state

CARDINAL WOLSEY

You’re welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady

Or gentleman that is not freely merry

Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome,

And to you all, good health!

He drinks

SANDS

Your grace is noble.

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,

And save me so much talking.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

My lord Sands,

I am beholden to you. Cheer your neighbours.

Ladies, you are not merry! Gentlemen,

Whose fault is this?

SANDS

The red wine first must rise

In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have ’em

Talk us to silence.

ANNE

You are a merry gamester,

My lord Sands.

SANDS

Yes, if I make my play.

Here’s to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,

For ’tis to such a thing—

ANNE

You cannot show me.

SANDS (to Wolsey)

I told your grace they would talk anon.

Drum and trumpet. Chambers discharged

CARDINAL WOLSEY

What’s that?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN (to the servants)

Look out there, some of ye.

Exit a servant

CARDINAL WOLSEY

What warlike voice,

And to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not.

By all the laws of war you’re privileged.

Enter the servant

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

How now—what is’t?

SERVANT

A noble troop of strangers,

For so they seem. They’ve left their barge and landed,

And hither make as great ambassadors

From foreign princes.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Good Lord Chamberlain,

Go give ’em welcome—you can speak the French

tongue.

And pray receive ’em nobly, and conduct ’em

Into our presence where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

Exit Chamberlain, attended

All rise, and some servants remove the tables

You have now a broken banquet, but we’ll mend it.

A good digestion to you all, and once more

I shower a welcome on ye—welcome all.

Hautboys. Enter, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain, King Henry and others as masquers habited like shepherds. They pass directly before Cardinal Wolsey and gracefully salute him

A noble company. What are their pleasures?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Because they speak no English, thus they prayed

To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame

Of this so noble and so fair assembly

This night to meet here, they could do no less,

Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,

But leave their flocks, and, under your fair conduct,

Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat

An hour of revels with ’em.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Say, Lord Chamberlain,

They have done my poor house grace, for which I pay

’em

A thousand thanks, and pray ’em take their pleasures.

The masquers choose ladies. The King chooses Anne Boleyn

KING HENRY (to Anne)

The fairest hand I ever touched. O beauty,

Till now I never knew thee.

Music. They dance

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the Lord Chamberlain) My lord.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN Your grace.

CARDINAL WOLSEY Pray tell ’em thus much from me. There should be one amongst ’em by his person More worthy this place than myself, to whom, If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN I will, my lord.

He whispers with the masquers

CARDINAL WOLSEY

What say they?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN Such a one they all confess

There is indeed, which they would have your grace

Find out, and he will take it.

CARDINAL WOLSEY standing

Let me see then.

By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I’ll make

My royal choice.

He bows before the King

KING HENRY unmasking

Ye have found him, Cardinal.

You hold a fair assembly. You do well, lord.

You are a churchman, or I’ll tell you, Cardinal,

I should judge now unhappily.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

I am glad

Your grace is grown so pleasant.

KING HENRY

My Lord Chamberlain,

Prithee come hither.

(Gesturing towards Anne) What fair lady’s that?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

An’t please your grace, Sir Thomas Boleyn’s daughter—

The Viscount Rochford—one of her highness’ women.

KING HENRY

By heaven, she is a dainty one. (To Anne) Sweetheart,

I were unmannerly to take you out

And not to kiss you ⌈kisses her⌉. A health, gentlemen;

He drinks

Let it go round.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready

I’th’ privy chamber?

LOVELL

Yes, my lord.

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the King)

Your grace

I fear with dancing is a little heated.

KING HENRY I fear too much.

CARDINAL WOLSEY There’s fresher air, my lord,

In the next chamber.

KING HENRY

Lead in your ladies, every one. (To Anne) Sweet partner,

I must not yet forsake you. (To Wolsey) Let’s be merry,

Good my lord Cardinal. I have half a dozen healths

To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure

To lead ’em once again, and then let’s dream

Who’s best in favour. Let the music knock it.

Exeunt with trumpets

2.1 Enter two Gentlemen, at several doors

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Whither away so fast?

SECOND GENTLEMAN

O, God save ye.

Ev’n to the hall to hear what shall become

Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

I’ll save you

That labour, sir. All’s now done but the ceremony

Of bringing back the prisoner.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Were you there?

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Yes, indeed was I.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Pray speak what has happened.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

You may guess quickly what.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Is he found guilty?

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon’t.

SECOND GENTLEMAN I am sorry for’t.

FIRST GENTLEMAN So are a number more.

SECOND GENTLEMAN But pray, how passed it?

FIRST GENTLEMAN

I’ll tell you in a little. The great Duke

Came to the bar, where to his accusations

He pleaded still not guilty, and allegèd

Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

The King’s attorney, on the contrary,

Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions,

Of divers witnesses, which the Duke desired

To him brought viva voce to his face—

At which appeared against him his surveyor,

Sir Gilbert Perk his chancellor, and John Car,

Confessor to him, with that devil-monk,

Hopkins, that made this mischief.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

That was he

That fed him with his prophecies.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

The same.

All these accused him strongly, which he fain

Would have flung from him, but indeed he could not.

And so his peers, upon this evidence,

Have found him guilty of high treason. Much

He spoke, and learnedly, for life, but all

Was either pitied in him or forgotten.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

After all this, how did he bear himself?

FIRST GENTLEMAN

When he was brought again to th’ bar to hear

His knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirred

With such an agony he sweat extremely,

And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty;

But he fell to himself again, and sweetly

In all the rest showed a most noble patience.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

I do not think he fears death.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Sure he does not.

He never was so womanish. The cause

He may a little grieve at.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Certainly

The Cardinal is the end of this.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

’Tis likely

By all conjectures: first, Kildare’s attainder,

Then deputy of Ireland, who, removed,

Earl Surrey was sent thither—and in haste, too,

Lest he should help his father.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

That trick of state

Was a deep envious one.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

At his return

No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,

And generally: whoever the King favours,

The Card’nal instantly will find employment—

And far enough from court, too.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

All the commons

Hate him perniciously and, o’ my conscience,

Wish him ten fathom deep. This Duke as much

They love and dote on, call him ‘bounteous

Buckingham,

The mirror of all courtesy’—

Enter the Duke of Buckingham from his arraignment, tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge towards him, halberdiers on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common people

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Stay there, sir,

And see the noble ruined man you speak of.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

Let’s stand close and behold him.

They stand apart

BUCKINGHAM (to the common people) All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me,

Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

I have this day received a traitor’s judgement,

And by that name must die. Yet, heaven bear witness,

And if I have a conscience let it sink me,

Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful.

The law I bear no malice for my death.

’T has done, upon the premises, but justice.

But those that sought it I could wish more Christians.

Be what they will, I heartily forgive ‘em.

Yet let ’em look they glory not in mischief,

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men,

For then my guiltless blood must cry against ‘em.

For further life in this world I ne’er hope,

Nor will I sue, although the King have mercies

More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,

His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave

Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me like good angels to my end,

And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,

Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,

And lift my soul to heaven. (To the guard) Lead on, i’

God’s name.

LOVELL

I do beseech your grace, for charity,

If ever any malice in your heart

Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

BUCKINGHAM

Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you

As I would be forgiven. I forgive all.

There cannot be those numberless offences

‘Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envy

Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace,

And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him

You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers

Yet are the King’s, and, till my soul forsake,

Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live

Longer than I have time to tell his years;

Ever beloved and loving may his rule be;

And, when old time shall lead him to his end,

Goodness and he fill up one monument.

LOVELL

To th’ waterside I must conduct your grace,

Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,

Who undertakes you to your end.

VAUX (to an attendant) Prepare there—

The Duke is coming. See the barge be ready,

And fit it with such furniture as suits

The greatness of his person.

BUCKINGHAM

Nay, Sir Nicholas,

Let it alone. My state now will but mock me.

When I came hither I was Lord High Constable

And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun.

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,

That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it,

And with that blood will make ’em one day groan for’t.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

Who first raised head against usurping Richard,

Flying for succour to his servant Banister,

Being distressed, was by that wretch betrayed,

And without trial fell. God’s peace be with him.

Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying

My father’s loss, like a most royal prince,

Restored me to my honours, and out of ruins

Made my name once more noble. Now his son,

Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all

That made me happy, at one stroke has taken

For ever from the world. I had my trial,

And must needs say a noble one; which makes me

A little happier than my wretched father.

Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both

Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most—

A most unnatural and faithless service.

Heaven has an end in all. Yet, you that hear me,

This from a dying man receive as certain—

Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,

Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive

The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

Like water from ye, never found again

But where they mean to sink ye. All good people

Pray for me. I must now forsake ye. The last hour

Of my long weary life is come upon me.

Farewell, and when you would say something that is

sad,

Speak how I fell. I have done, and God forgive me.

Exeunt Buckingham and train

The two Gentlemen come forward

FIRST GENTLEMAN

O, this is full of pity, sir; it calls,

I fear, too many curses on their heads

That were the authors.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

If the Duke be guiltless,

’Tis full of woe. Yet I can give you inkling

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

Greater than this.

FIRST GENTLEMAN Good angels keep it from us.

What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?

SECOND GENTLEMAN

This secret is so weighty, ’twill require

A strong faith to conceal it.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Let me have it—

I do not talk much.

SECOND GENTLEMAN I am confident;

You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear

A buzzing of separation

Between the King and Katherine?

FIRST GENTLEMAN

Yes, but it held not.

For when the King once heard it, out of anger

He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight

To stop the rumour and allay those tongues

That durst disperse it.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

But that slander, sir,

Is found a truth now, for it grows again

Fresher than e’er it was, and held for certain

The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal

Or some about him near have, out of malice

To the good Queen, possessed him with a scruple

That will undo her. To confirm this, too,

Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately,

As all think, for this business.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

’Tis the Cardinal;

And merely to revenge him on the Emperor

For not bestowing on him at his asking

The Archbishopric of Toledo this is purposed.

SECOND GENTLEMAN

I think you have hit the mark. But is’t not cruel

That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal

Will have his will, and she must fall.

FIRST GENTLEMAN

’Tis woeful.

We are too open here to argue this.

Let’s think in private more.

Exeunt

2.2 Enter the Lord Chamberlain with a letter

LORD CHAMBERLAIN (reads) ‘My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord Cardinal’s, by commission and main power, took ‘em from me with this reason—his master would be served before a subject, if not before the King; which stopped our mouths, sir.’

I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them. 10

He will have all, I think.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlain the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk

NORFOLK Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN Good day to both your graces.

SUFFOLK

How is the King employed?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

NORFOLK

What’s the cause?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife

Has crept too near his conscience.

SUFFOLK

No, his conscience

Has crept too near another lady.

NORFOLK

’Tis so.

This is the Cardinal’s doing. The King-Cardinal,

That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,

Turns what he list. The King will know him one day.

SUFFOLK

Pray God he do. He’ll never know himself else.

NORFOLK

How holily he works in all his business,

And with what zeal! For now he has cracked the

league

Between us and the Emperor, the Queen’s greatnephew,

25

He dives into the King’s soul and there scatters

Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,

Fears, and despairs—and all these for his marriage.

And out of all these, to restore the King,

He counsels a divorce—a loss of her

That like a jewel has hung twenty years

About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;

Of her that loves him with that excellence

That angels love good men with; even of her

That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,

Will bless the King—and is not this course pious?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Heaven keep me from such counsel! ’Tis most true—

These news are everywhere, every tongue speaks ’em,

And every true heart weeps for’t. All that dare

Look into these affairs see this main end—

The French king’s sister. Heaven will one day open

The King’s eyes, that so long have slept, upon

This bold bad man.

SUFFOLK And free us from his slavery.

NORFOLK. We had need pray,

And heartily, for our deliverance,

Or this imperious man will work us all

From princes into pages. All men’s honours

Lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned

Into what pitch he please.

SUFFOLK

For me, my lords,

I love him not, nor fear him—there’s my creed.

As I am made without him, so I’ll stand,

If the King please. His curses and his blessings

Touch me alike; they’re breath I not believe in.

I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him

To him that made him proud—the Pope.

NORFOLK

Let’s in,

And with some other business put the King

From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.

(To the Lord Chamberlain)

My lord, you’ll bear us company?

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Excuse me,

The King has sent me otherwhere. Besides,

You’ll find a most unfit time to disturb him.

Health to your lordships.

NORFOLK

Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.

Exit the Lord Chamberlain

King Henry draws the curtain, and sits reading pensively

SUFFOLK

How sad he looks! Sure he is much afflicted.

KING HENRY

Who’s there? Ha?

NORFOLK

Pray God he be not angry.

KING HENRY

Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

Into my private meditations!

Who am I? Ha?

NORFOLK

A gracious king that pardons all offences

Malice ne’er meant. Our breach of duty this way

Is business of estate, in which we come

To know your royal pleasure.

KING HENRY

Ye are too bold.

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

Is this an hour for temporal affairs? Ha?

Enter Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius, the latter with a commission

Who’s there? My good lord Cardinal? O, my Wolsey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience,

Thou art a cure fit for a king.

(To Campeius)

You’re welcome,

Most learnèd reverend sir, into our kingdom.

Use us, and it. (To Wolsey) My good lord, have great

care

I be not found a talker.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour

Of private conference.

KING HENRY (to Norfolk and Suffolk) We are busy; go.

Norfolk and Suffolk speak privately to one another as they depart

NORFOLK

This priest has no pride in him!

SUFFOLK

Not to speak of.

I would not be so sick, though, for his place—

But this cannot continue.

NORFOLK

If it do

I’ll venture one have-at-him.

SUFFOLK

I another.

Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to the King)

Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

Above all princes in committing freely

Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.

Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?

The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,

Must now confess, if they have any goodness,

The trial just and noble. All the cterks—

I mean the learnèd ones in Christian kingdoms—

Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judgement,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent

One general tongue unto us: this good man,

This just and learned priest, Card’nal Campeius,

Whom once more I present unto your highness.

KING HENRY (embracing Campeius)

And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves.

They have sent me such a man I would have wished for.

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

Your grace must needs deserve all strangers’ loves,

You are so noble. To your highness’ hand

I tender my commission,

He gives the commission to the King

(To Wolsey)

by whose virtue,

The Court of Rome commanding, you, my lord

Cardinal of York, are joined with me their servant

In the unpartial judging of this business.

KING HENRY

Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted

Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?

CARDINAL WOLSEY

I know your majesty has always loved her

So dear in heart not to deny her that

A woman of less place might ask by law—

Scholars allowed freely to argue for her.

KING HENRY

Ay, and the best she shall have, and my favour

To him that does best, God forbid else. Cardinal,

Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary.

Cardinal Wolsey goes to the door and calls Gardiner

I find him a fit fellow.

Enter Gardiner

CARDINAL WOLSEY (aside to Gardiner)

Give me your hand. Much joy and favour to you.

You are the King’s now.

GARDINER (aside to Wolsey) But to be commanded

For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.

KING HENRY Come hither, Gardiner.

The King walks with Gardiner and whispers with him

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS (to Wolsey)

My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace

In this man’s place before him?

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Yes, he was.

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

Was he not held a learnèd man?

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Yes, surely.

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

Believe me, there’s an ill opinion spread then,

Even of yourself, lord Cardinal.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

How? Of me?

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

They will not stick to say you envied him,

And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,

Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved him

That he ran mad and died.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Heav’n’s peace be with him—

That’s Christian care enough. For living murmurers

There’s places of rebuke. He was a fool,

For he would needs be virtuous.

(Gesturing towards Gardiner)

That good fellow,

If I command him, follows my appointment.

I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother:

We live not to be griped by meaner persons.

KING HENRY (to Gardiner)

Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.

Exit Gardiner

The most convenient place that I can think of

For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars;

There ye shall meet about this weighty business.

My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord,

Would it not grieve an able man to leave

So sweet a bedfellow? But conscience, conscience—

O, ’tis a tender place, and I must leave her.

Exeunt