Act I
Scene I
London. An ante-chamber in the palace.
Enter the Duke of Norfolk at one door; at the other, the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny. | |
Buckingham |
Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done
|
Norfolk |
I thank your grace,
|
Buckingham |
An untimely ague
|
Norfolk |
’Twixt Guynes and Arde:
|
Buckingham | All the whole time I was my chamber’s prisoner. |
Norfolk |
Then you lost
|
Buckingham | O, you go far. |
Norfolk |
As I belong to worship and affect
|
Buckingham |
Who did guide,
|
Norfolk |
One, certes, that promises no element
|
Buckingham | I pray you, who, my lord? |
Norfolk |
All this was order’d by the good discretion
|
Buckingham |
The devil speed him! no man’s pie is freed
|
Norfolk |
Surely, sir,
|
Abergavenny |
I cannot tell
|
Buckingham |
Why the devil,
|
Abergavenny |
I do know
|
Buckingham |
O, many
|
Norfolk |
Grievingly I think,
|
Buckingham |
Every man,
|
Norfolk |
Which is budded out;
|
Abergavenny |
Is it therefore
|
Norfolk | Marry, is’t. |
Abergavenny |
A proper title of a peace; and purchased
|
Buckingham |
Why, all this business
|
Norfolk |
Like it your grace,
|
Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse borne before 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. | |
Wolsey |
The Duke of Buckingham’s surveyor, ha?
|
First Secretary | Here, so please you. |
Wolsey | Is he in person ready? |
First Secretary | Ay, please your grace. |
Wolsey |
Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
|
Buckingham |
This butcher’s cur is venom-mouth’d, and I
|
Norfolk |
What, are you chafed?
|
Buckingham |
I read in’s looks
|
Norfolk |
Stay, my lord,
|
Buckingham |
I’ll to the king;
|
Norfolk |
Be advised;
|
Buckingham |
Sir,
|
Norfolk | Say not “treasonous.” |
Buckingham |
To the king I’ll say’t; and make my vouch as strong
|
Norfolk | Faith, and so it did. |
Buckingham |
Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
|
Norfolk |
I am sorry
|
Buckingham |
No, not a syllable:
|
Enter Brandon, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and two or three of the Guard. | |
Brandon | Your office, sergeant; execute it. |
Sergeant |
Sir,
|
Buckingham |
Lo, you, my lord,
|
Brandon |
I am sorry
|
Buckingham |
It will help me nothing
|
Brandon |
Nay, he must bear you company. The king To Abergavenny.
|
Abergavenny |
As the duke said,
|
Brandon |
Here is a warrant from
|
Buckingham |
So, so;
|
Brandon | A monk o’ the Chartreux. |
Buckingham | O, Nicholas Hopkins? |
Brandon | He. |
Buckingham |
My surveyor is false; the o’er-great cardinal
|
Scene II
The same. The council-chamber.
Cornets. Enter the King, leaning on the Cardinal’s shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovell; the Cardinal places himself under the King’s feet on his right side. | |
King |
My life itself, and the best heart of it,
|
A noise within, crying “Room for the Queen!” Enter Queen Katherine, ushered by the Duke of Norfolk, and the Duke of Suffolk: she kneels. The King riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him. | |
Queen Katherine | Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor. |
King |
Arise, and take place by us: half your suit
|
Queen Katherine |
Thank your majesty.
|
King | Lady mine, proceed. |
Queen Katherine |
I am solicited, not by a few,
|
Norfolk |
Not almost appears,
|
King |
Taxation!
|
Wolsey |
Please you, sir,
|
Queen Katherine |
No, my lord,
|
King |
Still exaction!
|
Queen Katherine |
I am much too venturous
|
King |
By my life,
|
Wolsey |
And for me,
|
King |
Things done well,
|
Wolsey |
A word with you. To the Secretary.
|
Enter Surveyor. | |
Queen Katherine |
I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
|
King |
It grieves many:
|
Wolsey |
Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,
|
King | Speak freely. |
Surveyor |
First, it was usual with him, every day
|
Wolsey |
Please your highness, note
|
Queen Katherine |
My learn’d lord cardinal,
|
King |
Speak on:
|
Surveyor |
He was brought to this
|
King | What was that Hopkins? |
Surveyor |
Sir, a Chartreux friar,
|
King | How know’st thou this? |
Surveyor |
Not long before your highness sped to France,
|
Queen Katherine |
If I know you well,
|
King |
Let him on.
|
Surveyor |
On my soul, I’ll speak but truth.
|
King |
Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!
|
Surveyor | I can, my liege. |
King | Proceed. |
Surveyor |
Being at Greenwich,
|
King |
I remember
|
Surveyor |
“If,” quoth he, “I for this had been committed,
|
King | A giant traitor! |
Wolsey |
Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
|
Queen Katherine | God mend all! |
King | There’s something more would out of thee; what say’st? |
Surveyor |
After “the duke his father,” with “the knife,”
|
King |
There’s his period,
|
Scene III
An ante-chamber in the palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands. | |
Chamberlain |
Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle
|
Sands |
New customs,
|
Chamberlain |
As far as I see, all the good our English
|
Sands |
They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,
|
Chamberlain |
Death! my lord,
|
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. | |
How now!
|
|
Lovell |
Faith, my lord,
|
Chamberlain | What is’t for? |
Lovell |
The reformation of our travell’d gallants,
|
Chamberlain |
I’m glad ’tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
|
Lovell |
They must either,
|
Sands |
’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
|
Chamberlain |
What a loss our ladies
|
Lovell |
Ay, marry,
|
Sands |
The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,
|
Chamberlain |
Well said, Lord Sands;
|
Sands |
No, my lord;
|
Chamberlain |
Sir Thomas,
|
Lovell |
To the cardinal’s:
|
Chamberlain |
O, ’tis true:
|
Lovell |
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
|
Chamberlain |
No doubt he’s noble;
|
Sands |
He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him
|
Chamberlain |
True, they are so;
|
Sands | I am your lordship’s. Exeunt. |
Scene IV
A Hall in York Place.
Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford. | |
Guildford |
Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
|
Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell. | |
The very thought of this fair company
|
|
Chamberlain | You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. |
Sands |
Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
|
Lovell |
O, that your lordship were but now confessor
|
Sands |
I would I were;
|
Lovell | Faith, how easy? |
Sands | As easy as a down-bed would afford it. |
Chamberlain |
Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
|
Sands |
By my faith,
|
Anne | Was he mad, sir? |
Sands |
O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:
|
Chamberlain |
Well said, my lord.
|
Sands |
For my little cure,
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Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his state. | |
Wolsey |
You’re welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,
|
Sands |
Your grace is noble:
|
Wolsey |
My Lord Sands,
|
Sands |
The red wine first must rise
|
Anne |
You are a merry gamester,
|
Sands |
Yes, if I make my play.
|
Anne | You cannot show me. |
Sands | I told your grace they would talk anon. Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged. |
Wolsey | What’s that? |
Chamberlain | Look out there, some of ye. Exit Servant. |
Wolsey |
What warlike voice,
|
Re-enter Servant. | |
Chamberlain | How now! what is’t? |
Servant |
A noble troop of strangers;
|
Wolsey |
Good lord chamberlain,
|
Hautboys. Enter the King and others, as masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him. | |
A noble company! what are their pleasures? | |
Chamberlain |
Because they speak no English, thus they pray’d
|
Wolsey |
Say, lord chamberlain,
|
King |
The fairest hand I ever touch’d! O beauty,
|
Wolsey | My lord! |
Chamberlain | Your grace? |
Wolsey |
Pray, tell ’em thus much from me:
|
Chamberlain | I will, my lord. Whispers the Masquers. |
Wolsey | What say they? |
Chamberlain |
Such a one, they all confess,
|
Wolsey |
Let me see, then.
|
King |
Ye have found him, cardinal: Unmasking.
|
Wolsey |
I am glad
|
King |
My lord chamberlain,
|
Chamberlain |
An’t please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen’s daughter—
|
King |
By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
|
Wolsey |
Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
|
Lovell | Yes, my lord. |
Wolsey |
Your grace,
|
King | I fear, too much. |
Wolsey |
There’s fresher air, my lord,
|
King |
Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,
|