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 NORFOLK. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. |
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| CHAMBERLAIN. Good day to both your Graces. |
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| SUFFOLK. How is the King employ'd? |
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| CHAMBERLAIN. I left him private, |
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| Full of sad thoughts and troubles. |
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| NORFOLK. What's the cause? |
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| CHAMBERLAIN. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife |
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| Has crept too near his conscience. |
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| SUFFOLK. No, his conscience |
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| Has crept too near another lady. |
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| NORFOLK. 'Tis so; |
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| This is the Cardinal's doing; the King-Cardinal, |
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| That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, |
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| Turns what he list. The King will know him one day. |
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| SUFFOLK. Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else. |
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| NORFOLK. How holily he works in all his business! |
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| And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the league |
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| Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew, |
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| He dives into the King's soul and there scatters |
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| Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, |
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| Fears, and despairs—and all these for his marriage; |
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| And out of all these to restore the King, |
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| He counsels a divorce, a loss of her |
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| That like a jewel has hung twenty years |
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| About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; |
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| Of her that loves him with that excellence |
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| That angels love good men with; even of her |
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| That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, |
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| Will bless the King—and is not this course pious? |
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| CHAMBERLAIN. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true |
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| These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em, |
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| And every true heart weeps for 't. All that dare |
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| Look into these affairs see this main end— |
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| The French King's sister. Heaven will one day open |
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| The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon |
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| This bold bad man. |
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| SUFFOLK. And free us from his slavery. |
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| NORFOLK. We had need pray, and heartily, for our deliverance; |
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| Or this imperious man will work us all |
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| From princes into pages. All men's honours |
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| Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd |
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| Into what pitch he please. |
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| SUFFOLK. For me, my lords, |
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| I love him not, nor fear him—there's my creed; |
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| As I am made without him, so I'll stand, |
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| If the King please; his curses and his blessings |
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| Touch me alike; th' are breath I not believe in. |
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| I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him |
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| To him that made him proud—the Pope. |
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| NORFOLK. Let's in; |
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| And with some other business put the King |
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| From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him. |
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| My lord, you'll bear us company? |
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| CHAMBERLAIN. Excuse me, |
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| The King has sent me otherwhere; besides, |
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| You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. |
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| Health to your lordships! |
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| NORFOLK. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. |
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| Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN; and the KING |
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| draws the curtain and sits reading pensively |
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| SUFFOLK. How sad he looks; sure, he is much afflicted. |
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| KING. Who's there, ha? |
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| NORFOLK. Pray God he be not angry. |
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| KING HENRY. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves |
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| Into my private meditations? |
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| Who am I, ha? |
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| NORFOLK. A gracious king that pardons all offences |
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| Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way |
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| Is business of estate, in which we come |
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| To know your royal pleasure. |
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| KING. Ye are too bold. |
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| Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business. |
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| Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? |
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| Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey, |
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| The quiet of my wounded conscience, |
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| Thou art a cure fit for a King.[To CAMPEIUS]You're |
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| welcome, |
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| Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom. |
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| Use us and it.[To WOLSEY]My good lord, have great care |
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| I be not found a talker. |
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| WOLSEY. Sir, you cannot. |
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| I would your Grace would give us but an hour |
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| Of private conference. |
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| KING.[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]We are busy; go. |
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| NORFOLK.[Aside to SUFFOLK]This priest has no pride in him! |
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| SUFFOLK.[Aside to NORFOLK]Not to speak of! |
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| I would not be so sick though for his place. |
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| But this cannot continue. |
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| NORFOLK.[Aside to SUFFOLK]If it do, |
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| I'll venture one have-at-him. |
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| SUFFOLK.[Aside to NORFOLK]I another. |
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| Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK |
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| WOLSEY. Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom |
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| Above all princes, in committing freely |
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| Your scruple to the voice of Christendom. |
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| Who can be angry now? What envy reach you? |
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| The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, |
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| Must now confess, if they have any goodness, |
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| The trial just and noble. All the clerks, |
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| I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms |
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| Have their free voices. Rome the nurse of judgment, |
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| Invited by your noble self, hath sent |
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| One general tongue unto us, this good man, |
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| This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius, |
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| Whom once more I present unto your Highness. |
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| KING. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, |
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| And thank the holy conclave for their loves. |
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| They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. |
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| CAMPEIUS. Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, |
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| You are so noble. To your Highness' hand |
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| I tender my commission; by whose virtue— |
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| The court of Rome commanding—you, my Lord |
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| Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant |
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| In the unpartial judging of this business. |
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| KING. Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted |
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| Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? |
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| WOLSEY. I know your Majesty has always lov'd her |
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| So dear in heart not to deny her that |
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| A woman of less place might ask by law— |
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| Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her. |
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| KING. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour |
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| To him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal, |
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| Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; |
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| I find him a fit fellow. Exit WOLSEY |
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| WOLSEY.[Aside to GARDINER]Give me your hand: much |
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| joy and favour to you; |
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| You are the King's now. |
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| GARDINER.[Aside to WOLSEY]But to be commanded |
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| For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me. |
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| KING. Come hither, Gardiner.[Walks and whispers] |
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| CAMPEIUS. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace |
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| In this man's place before him? |
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| WOLSEY. Yes, he was. |
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| CAMPEIUS. Was he not held a learned man? |
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| WOLSEY. Yes, surely. |
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| CAMPEIUS. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then, |
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| Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal. |
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| WOLSEY. How! Of me? |
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| CAMPEIUS. They will not stick to say you envied him |
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| And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, |
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| Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him |
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| That he ran mad and died. |
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| WOLSEY. Heav'n's peace be with him! |
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| That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers |
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| There's places of rebuke. He was a fool, |
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| For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, |
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| If I command him, follows my appointment. |
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| I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, |
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| We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. |
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| KING. Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. |
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| Exit |
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| GARDINER |
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| The most convenient place that I can think of |
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| For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars; |
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| There ye shall meet about this weighty business— |
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| My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord, |
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| Would it not grieve an able man to leave |
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| So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! |
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| O, 'tis a tender place! and I must leave her. |
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| Exeunt |
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