Complete Plays, The (284 page)

A noise within, crying ‘Room for the Queen!’ Enter Queen Katharine, ushered by Norfolk, and Suffolk: she kneels. King Henry VIII riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him

Queen Katharine

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

King Henry VIII

Arise, and take place by us: 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 Katharine

Thank your majesty.
That you would love yourself, and in that love
Not unconsider’d leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.

King Henry VIII

 
Lady mine, proceed.

Queen Katharine

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 flaw’d 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, compell’d by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among then!

King Henry VIII

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 the state; and front but in that file
Where others tell steps with me.

Queen Katharine

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 the bearing; and, to bear ’em,
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devised by you; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

King Henry VIII

Still exaction!
The nature of it? in what kind, let’s know,
Is this exaction?

Queen Katharine

 
I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience; but am bolden’d
Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief
Comes through commissions, which compel 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 VIII

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 pass’d 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 ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new-trimm’d, but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow’d; 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 mock’d or carp’d at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State-statues only.

King Henry VIII

Things done well,
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear’d. 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’ the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack’d,
The air will drink the sap. To every county
Where this is question’d 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

A word with you.

To the Secretary

Let there be letters writ to every shire,
Of the king’s grace and pardon. 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 Surveyor

Queen Katharine

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

King Henry VIII

It grieves many:
The gentleman is learn’d, 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 enroll’d ’mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish’d listening, 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 besmear’d in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear —
This was his gentleman in trust — of him
Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount
The fore-recited practises; whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

Cardinal Wolsey

Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

King Henry VIII

Speak freely.

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

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

Queen Katharine

My learn’d lord cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.

King Henry VIII

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?

Surveyor

He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.

King Henry VIII

What was that Hopkins?

Surveyor

Sir, a Chartreux friar,
His confessor, who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.

King Henry VIII

How know’st thou this?

Surveyor

Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey: I replied,
Men fear’d 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 gain the love o’ the commonalty: the duke
Shall govern England.’

Queen Katharine

If I know you well,
You were the duke’s surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o’ the 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 VIII

Let him on.
Go forward.

Surveyor

 
On my soul, I’ll speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, by the devil’s illusions
The monk might be deceived; and that ’twas dangerous for him
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forged him some design, which, being believed,
It was much like to do: he answer’d, ‘Tush,
It can do me no damage;’ adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail’d,
The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads
Should have gone off.

King Henry VIII

Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!
There’s mischief in this man: canst thou say further?

Surveyor

I can, my liege.

King Henry VIII

 
Proceed.

Surveyor

Being at Greenwich,
After your highness had reproved the duke
About Sir William Blomer,—

King Henry VIII

I remember
Of such a time: being my sworn servant,
The duke retain’d him his. But on; what hence?

Surveyor

‘If,’ quoth he, ‘I for this had been committed,
As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play’d
The part my father meant to act upon
The 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 to him.’

King Henry VIII

A giant traitor!

Cardinal Wolsey

Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, and this man out of prison?

Queen Katharine

God mend all!

King Henry VIII

There’s something more would out of thee; what say’st?

Surveyor

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 evil used, he would outgo
His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.

King Henry VIII

There’s his period,
To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach’d;
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 the height.

Exeunt

S
CENE
III. A
N
ANTE
-
CHAMBER
IN
THE
PALACE
.

Enter Chamberlain and Sands

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 follow’d.

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’ the 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 saw ’em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign’d among ’em.

Chamberlain

Death! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.

Enter Lovell

How now!
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

Lovell

Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That’s clapp’d upon the court-gate.

Chamberlain

What is’t for?

Lovell

The reformation of our travell’d gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

Chamberlain

I’m glad ’tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
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 point 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 blister’d 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,’ wear away
The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh’d at.

Sands

’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

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.