1 Gent.

Let me have it;

I do not talk much.

2 Gent.

I am confident;

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

A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent.

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.

2 Gent.

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, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her: To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;

As all think, for this business.

1 Gent.

'Tis the cardinal;

And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,

The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2 Gent. 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.

1 Gent.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

'Tis woful.

[Exeunt.

* Great fidelity.

SCENE II.

An ante-chamber in the palace.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter.

Cham. My lord, -The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, rid. den, 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: He will have all, I think.

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,

Turns what he lists. The king will know him one

day.

Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself else.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the

league

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great ne

phew,

Ile 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?

Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true,

These news are every where; every tongue speaks

them,

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.

Suff.

And free us from his slavery.

Nor. 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 in one lump before him, to be fashion'd

Into what pitch* he please.

Suff.

For me, my lords,

I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:

* High or low.

As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the king please; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him

To him, that made him proud, the pope.

Nor.

Let's in;

And, with some other business, put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon

him:

My lord, you'll bear us company?

Cham.

Excuse me;

The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:

Health to your lordships.

Nor.

Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Norfolk opens a folding-door. The King is discovered sitting, and reading pensively.

Suff. How sad he looks! sure, he is much af

flicted.

K. Hen. Who is there? ha?
Nor.

Pray God, he be not angry.

K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust

yourselves

Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor. 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.

K. Hen.

You are too bold:

Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business: Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?

Enter Wolsey and Campeius.

Who's there? my good lord cardinal?-O my Wol

sey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome,

[To Campeius.

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care

I be not found a talker.
Wol.

[To Wolsey.

Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

K. Hen.

We are busy; go.

[To Norfolk and Suffolk.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him?
Suff.

Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though*, for his

place:

But this cannot continue.

[Aside.

Nor.

If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.
Suff.

I another.

[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.

Wol. 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 clerks, I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms, Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judge.

ment,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius;
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.

K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms, I bid him

welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves;

* So sick as he is proud.