Classic Audiobook Collection - Henry VIII by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [history]

Episode Date: April 20, 2025

Henry VIII by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: history In Henry VIII, Shakespeare stages the Tudor court as a place where ceremony and ambition collide, and where a single royal decision can remake lives overnight. England's formidable king, Henry VIII, moves through a glittering world of banquets, trials, and pageantry, while the people closest to him struggle to read the shifting winds of favor. Queen Katherine of Aragon fights to defend her marriage and her dignity as the king's attention turns elsewhere, and the rise of Anne Boleyn signals a new and uncertain future. Meanwhile, the powerful Cardinal Wolsey navigates intrigue at the highest level, only to discover how quickly influence can curdle into suspicion. Nobles such as Buckingham feel the dangers of rumor and rivalry, and the principled Archbishop Cranmer becomes a focal point for conflicts over conscience, authority, and reform. Part political thriller, part courtroom drama, and part meditation on reputation, Henry VIII asks what remains of truth when power controls the story and history is written in public spectacle. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:04:13) Chapter 1 (00:42:01) Chapter 2 (01:20:31) Chapter 3 (01:59:36) Chapter 4 (02:19:28) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

History of Henry VIII by William Shakespeare. Act 1 Prologue I come no more to make you laugh. Things now that bear a weighty and a serious brow, sad high and working, full of state and woe, such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow we now present. Those that can pity,

here may if they think it well, let fall a tear, the subject will deserve it. Such as give their money out of hope they may believe, may here find truth too. Those that come to see only a show or two, and so agree the play may pass if they be still and willing, I'll undertake may see away their shilling richly in two short hours. Only they that come to hear a merry, bawdy play, a noise of targets, or to see a fellow in a long, mockly coat guarded with yellow, will be deceived. For gentle hearers know to rank our chosen truth with such a show as fool and fighties, beside forfeiting our own brains and the opinion that we bring, to make that only that

only true we now intend, will leave us never an understanding friend. Therefore, for goodness sake, and as you are known, the first and happiest heroes of the town, be sad as we would make ye. Think ye see the very persons of our noble story as they were living. Think you see them great, and followed with the general throng and sweat, of thousand friends then in a moment see how soon this mightiness meets misery and if you can be merry then i'll say a man may weep upon his wedding day act one scene one london an antechamber in the palace enter norfolk at one door at the other buckingham and abergavenny good-morrow and well met how have ye done since we last saw in france i thank your grace healthful and ever since a fresh admirer of what i saw there An untimely ague stayed me a prisoner in my chamber when those sons of glory,

those two lights of men, met in the veil of Andren. To its guines and ard I was then present, saw them salute on horseback, beheld them when they lighted how they clung in their embracement as they grew together. Which had they what four-throred ones could have weighed such a compounded one? All the whole time I was my chamber's prisoner. Then you lost the view of earthly glory. Men might say, till this time Pomp was single, but now married, to one above itself. Each following day became the next day's master, till the last made former Wander's It's.

Today the French, or Cleek-on, tilling gold, like heathen gods, shone down the English, and to-morrow they made Britain, India. Every man that stood showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were as cherubins all gilt. The madams, too, not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear the price. cried upon them that their very labour was to them as a painting now this mask was cried incomparable and the insuring knight made it a fool and beggar the two kings equal in lustre were now best now worst as presents did present them him and i still him in praise and being present both twas said that they saw but one and no discern a durst wag his tongue in censure when these sons for so they phrase them by their heralds challenge the noble spirits to arms they did perform beyond thought's compass that former fabulous story being now seen possible enough got credit that bevis was believed

oh you go far as i belong to worship and effect in honour honesty the tract of every thing would buy a good discourse a lusome life which action's self was tongue to all was royal to the disposing of it nought rebelled order gave each thing view the office did distinctly his full function who did guide i mean who set the body and the limbs of this great sport together as you guess one certs that promises no element in such a business I pray you, who, my lord? All this was ordered by the good discretion of the right Reverend Cardinal of York. The devil speed him. No man's pie is freed from his ambitious finger. What had he to do in these fierce vanities? I wonder that such a keech can, with his very bulk,

take up the raise of the beneficial son and keep it from the earth? Surely, sir, there's in him stuff that puts him to these ends, for being not propped by an hour, ancestry whose grace chalks successes their way nor called upon for high feats done to the crown neither allied for eminent assistance but spider-like out of his self-drawing web he gives us note the force of his own merit makes his way a gift that heaven gives for him which buys a place next to the king i cannot tell what heaven hath given him let some graver eye pierce into that but i can see his pride peep through each part of him when says he that if not from hell The devil is a niggard, or has given all before, and he begins a new hell in himself. Why, the devil, upon this French going out, took he upon him, without the privy o'er the king, to appoint who should attend on him. He makes up the file of all the gentry,

for the most part such to whom as greater charge as little honour he meant to lay upon, and his own letter, the Honourable Board of Council out, must fetch him in the papers. I do know, kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have by this so sickened their estates that never they shall abound as formerly. Oh, many have broke their backs with laying manners on them for this great journey. What did this vanity but minister communication of a most poor issue? Grievingly, I think, the peace between the French and us not values the cost that did conclude it. Every man, after the hideous storm that followed, was a thing inspired. and, not consulting, broke into a general prophecy,

that this tempest, dashing the garment of this piece, aboded the sudden breachant. Which is budded out, for France hath flawed the league, and hath attached our merchant's good at Bordeaux. Is it, therefore, the ambassador is silenced? Marius, a proper title of a piece, and purchased at a superfluous rate. Why, all this business our Reverend Cardinal carried? Like it, Your Grace? the state takes notice of the private difference betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you, and take it from a heart that wishes towards you honour and plenty of safety,

that you read the cardinal's malice and his potency together, to consider further that what his hatred would affect once not a minister in his power. You know his nature, that he's revengeful, and I know his sword hath a sharp edge. It's long, and may be said, it reaches far, and well it will not extend, And thither he darts it. Put him up thy counsel. You'll find it wholesome. No, where comes that rock that I advise your shunning? Enter Cardinal Woolsey, the purse born before him, certain of the guard, and two secretaries with papers. Cardinal Woolsey in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, huh? Where's his examination?

Here, so please you. Is he in person ready? Aye, please your grace. Well, we shall then know more, and Buckingham shall lessen this big look. Exunned Cardinal Woolsey and his train. This butcher's cur is venom-mouthed, and I have not the power to muzzle him,

therefore best not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood. What, are you chafed? Ask God for temperance. That's the appliance only. which your disease requires. I read-ins look matter against me, and his eye reviled me as his abject object.

At this instant he bores me with some trick. He's gone to the king. I'll follow and outstare him. Stay, my lord, and let your reason with your collar question what tiss you go about. To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first. Anger is like a full hot horse,

who being allowed his way self-metal tires him. not a man in england can advise me like you be to yourself as you would to your friend i'll to the king and from a mouth of honour quite cry down this ipswich fellow's insolence or proclaim there's difference in no persons be advised heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do sinned yourself we may outrun by violent swiftness that which we run at and lose by overrunning know you not the fire that mounts the liquor till run in seeming to augment it wastes it. Be advised. I say again, there is no English soul more stronger to direct you than yourself, if with the sap of reason you would quench or but allay the fire of passion. Sir, I am thankful to you, and I'll go along by your prescription,

but this top-proud fellow, whom from the flow of gall I name not but from sincere motions, by intelligence, and proofs as clear as founts in July when we see, see each grain of gravel, I do know to be corrupt and treasonous. Say not treasonous. To the king, I'll say it, and make my vouchers strong ashore of rock. Attend this holy fox, or wolf or both, for he is equal ravenous as he is subtle, and as prone to mischief as able to perform. His mind and place infecting one another, yea, reciprocally, only to show his pomp as well in France

as here at home, suggest the king, our master, to this last costly treaty, the interview that swallowed so much treasure, and like a glass, did break ear the rinsing. Faith, and so it did. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal, the articles or the combination drew as himself pleased, and they were ratified as he cried, Thus let be, to as much end as give a crutch to the dead. But our Count Cardinal has done this, and tis well, for worthy Woolsey, who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy to the old dam, treason. Charles the Emperor, under pretence to see the queen his aunt, for twas indeed his colour,

but he came to whisper Woolsey. Here make visitation. His fears were that the interview betwixt England and France might, through their amity, breed him some prejudice, for, from this league peeped harms that menaced him. He privily deals with our cardinal, and, as I trow, which I do well, for I am sure the emperor paid ere he promised, whereby his suit was granted ere it was asked, but when the way was made and paved with gold, the emperor thus desired that he would please to alter the king's course and break the for said peace. Let the king know, as soon as he shall by me, that thus the cardinal does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, and for his own advantage.

I am sorry to hear this of him, and could wish you were something mistaken in. No, not a syllable. I do pronounce him in that very shape he shall appear in proof. Enter Brandon, a sergeant at arms before him, and two or three of the guard. Your office sergeant, executed. Sir. my lord the duke of buckingham and earl of hereford stafford and northampton i arrest thee of high treason in the name of our most sovereign king lo you my lord the net hath fallen upon me i shall perish under device and practice i am sorry to see you tain from liberty to look on the business present tis his highness pleasure you shall to the tower

it will help me nothing to plead mine innocence for that dye is on me which makes my whitest part black the will of heaven be done in this and all things i obey o my lord abegovani fare you well nay he must be you company to abrogavani the king is pleased you shall for the tower till you know how he determines further as the duke said the will of heaven be done and the king's pleasure by me obeyed Here is a warrant from the king to attach Lord Montecute, and the bodies of the Duke's confessor, John Delacare, one Gilbert Peck, his chancellor. So, so, these are the limbs are the plot, no more, I hope. A monk of the Shat-Claher.

Oh, Nicholas Hopkins? He. My surveyor is false. The O'R great cardinal have showed him gold. My life is spanned already. I am the shabler. of Paul Buckingham whose figure even this instant cloud puts on by darkening my clear son my lord farewell axiunt scene two the same the council chamber

cornets enter King Henry the 8th leaning on Cardinal Woolsey's shoulder the nobles and Lavelle Cardinal Woolsey places himself under King Henry the 8th's feet on his right side My life itself, and the best heart of it, Thanks you for this great care. I stood in the level of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks to you that choked it. Let be called before us that gentleman of Buckingham's,

in person I'll hear him his confessions justify, and point by point, the treasons of his master, he shall again relate. A noise within, crying, Room for the Queen! Enter Queen Catherine, ushered by Norfolk and Suffolk. She kneels. King Henry VIII riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him. Nay, we must longer kneel. I am a suitor. Arise, and take place byers. Half your suit never name to us. You have half our power.

The other moiety, a you ask, is given. Repeat your will and take it. thank your majesty that you would love yourself and in that love not unconsidered leave your honour nor the dignity of your office is the point of my petition lady mine proceed i am solicited not by a few and those of true condition that your subjects are in great grievance there have been commission sent down among em which hath flawed the heart of all their loyalties wherein although my good lord cardinal they vent reproaches most bitterly on you as puter 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 not almost appears it doth appear for upon these taxations the clotheers all not able to maintain the many to them longing have put off the spinsters carders fullers weavers who unfit for other life compelled by hunger and lack of other means in desperate manner daring the event to the teeth are all in uproar and don't just serves among them. Taxation. Wherein? And what taxation? My lord cardinal, you that are blame for it alike with us,

know you of this taxation? 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. 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'am the back is sacrifice to the load. They say they are devised by you, or else you suffer too hard an exclamation. Still exaction, the nature of it, in what kind let's know is this exacting?

I am much too venturous in tempting of your patience, but am boldened under your promised pardon. The subject's grief comes through commissions, which compel from each the sixth part of his substance, to be levied without delay. And the pretense 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. By my life, this is against our pleasure.

And for me I have no further gone in this than by a single voice, and that not past 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 break that virtue must go through we must not stint our necessary actions in the fear to cope malicious censurers whichever as ravenous fishes do a vessel follow that is new trimmed but benefit no further than vainly longing what we oft do best by sick interpreters once weak ones is not ours or not allowed 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 mocked or carped at we should take root here where we sit or sit state statues only things well done and with a care exempt themselves from fear things done without example in their issue are to be feared 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 of the timber, and though we leave it with a root thus hacked, the air will drink the sap. To every county where this is questioned, send our letters, with free pardon to each man that hath denied the force of this commission, pray look to it i put it to your care 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 revokment and pardon comes i shall anon advise you further in the proceeding exit secretary enter surveyor "'I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham is run in your displeasure.' "'It grieves many.

"'The gentleman is learned, and a most rare speaker, "'to nature none more bound his training such "'that he may furnish and instruct great teachers, "'and never seek 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 enrolled amongst wonders, and when we, almost with ravished 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 besmeared 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 four recited practices whereof we cannot feel too little hear too much stand forth and with bold spirit relate what you most like a careful subject have collected out of the duke of buckingham speak freely first it was usual with him every day would infect his speech that if the king should without issue die he'll carry it so to make the sceptre

is. These very words I've heard him uttered to his son-in-law, Lord Abergaveney, to whom by oath he menaced revenge upon the Cardinal. Please, Your Highness, note this dangerous conception in this point. Not friended by his wish, to your high person his will is most malignant, and it stretches beyond you to your friends. My learned Lord Cardinal, deliver all with charity. Speak on. How grounded he is titled to the Crown. upon our fail. To this point hast thou heard him at any time speak aught? He was brought to this by a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. What was that Hopkins?

Sir, a Chartreuse friar, his confessor, who fed him every minute with words of sovereignty. How knowest thou this? Not long before your highness sped to France, the duke being at the rose, within the parish St. Lawrence Pultene, did of me demand what was the speech among the London. the speech among the Londoners concerning the French journey. I replied, men feared the French would prove perfidiless to the king's danger. Presently, the Duke said, "'Twas the fear, indeed, and that he doubted to prove the verity of certain words spoke by a holy monk. That oft, says he, have 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 seal he solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke

my chaplain to no creature living, but to me, should utter, with demure confidence that pausingly ensued, neither the king nor's heirs tell you the Duke shall prosper. Bid him strive to gain the love, O the Commonality, the Duke shall govern England. If I know you well, you were the Duke surveyor, and lost your office on the complaint of 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. Let him on. Go forward. 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 forced him some design, which, being believed, it was much like to do. He answered, Tush, it can do me no damage. Adding further, that, had the king in his last sickness failed, the cardinals in Sir Thomas Lavelle's head should have gone off. Ah, what, Sir rank? Aha! There's mischief in this man.

Canst thou say further? I can, my liege. Proceed. Being at Greenwich, after Your Highness had reproved the Duke about Sir William Blomer, I remember of such a time. Being my sworn servant, the Duke retained him, his. But on, what hence? If, quoth he, I for this had been committed, as to the tower I thought, I would have played 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.

A giant traitor! Now, madam, may His Highness live in freedom and this man out of prison? God mend all. There's something more wood out of thee. What's hast? After the Duke his father, with the knife, he stretched 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, where he evil used, he would outgo his father by as much as a performance, does an irresolute purpose. There's his period to sheath his knife, in us. He is attached. Call him to present trial. If he may find mercy in the law, tis his. If none, let him not seek it of us. By day and night he's traitor to the height. Accunct Scene 3. An Antichamber in the palace. Enter Chamberlain and Sands.

Is it possible the spells of French should juggle men into such strange mysteries? new customs, though they be never so ridiculous, nay, let him be unmanly, yet have followed. As far as I see, all the good our English have got by the late voyage is but merely a fit or two of the face. But they are shrewd ones, for when they hold them you would swear directly their very noses had been counsellors to pepin or Clotharius. They keep state so. They have all new legs, and lame ones, one would take it, that never saw him pace before, the Spavin or Springholt reigned among them. Death.

My lord, their clothes are after such a pagan cut, too, that sure, they've worn out Christendom. Enter Laval. How now? What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation that's clapped upon the court gate. What is it for?

The reformation of our travelled gallants that fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. I'm glad tis there. Now I would be there. pray our messieurs to think an English courtier may be wise and never see the Louvre. They must either, for so run the conditions, leave those remnants of fall and feather that they've got in France, with all their honourable point of ignorance pertaining their unto 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. understand again like honest men or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it they may, Com privilegeo, wear away the lag end of their lewdness, and be laughed at. Tis time to give them physic, their diseases are grown so catching. What a loss our ladies will have of these trim vanities. I, marry, there will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whore sons have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies, a French song and a fiddle, no fellow the devil fiddlam 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 plain song and have an hour of hearing and by our lady held current music too

well said lord sands your colt's tooth is not cast yet no my lord nor shall not while i have a stump sir thomas whither were you you are going. To the cardinals, your lordship is a guest, too. Oh, 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. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, a hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us, his Jews fall everywhere. No doubt he's noble. He had a black mouth that said other of him. He may, my lord, has 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. True. They are so. But few now give so great ones. My barge stays. Your lordship shall along. 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. I am your lordships. Exunt. Scene four. A hall in York Palace Hot boys A small table under a state for Cardinal Woolsey A longer table for the guests

Then enter Anne and Divers other ladies and gentlemen As guests at one door At another door enter Guildford Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all This night he dedicates the fair content And you None here he hopes in all

all this noble bevy has brought with her one care abroad he would have all as merry as first good company good wine good welcome can make good people oh my lord you're tardy enter chamberlain sands and lavelle ha ha ha ha the very thought of this fair company clapped wings to me "'You are young, Sir Henry Guildford.' "'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 we'd better please them. "'By my life they are a sweet society of fair ones.' "'Oh, that your lordship were but now confessor to one or two of these.'

"'Aught would I were. They should find easy penance.' "'Faith, how easy?' "'As easy as a downbed would afford it?' "'Sweet ladies, will it please you sit. "'Sir Harry, place you that side. "'I'll take charge of this. "'His grace is entering. "'Nay, you must not freeze.

"'Two women placed together makes cold weather. "'My lord Sands, you are one, we'll keep him waking. "'Pray, sit between these ladies.' "'By my faith and thank your lordship, "'by your leave, sweet ladies, "'if I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me. I had it from my father. Was he mad, sir?

Oh, 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. Kisses her. Well said, my lord. So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen, the penance lies on you if these fair ladies pass away frowning.

For my little cure, let me alone. Hot boys, enter Cardinal Woolsey and takes his state. 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. Drinks. Your grace is noble. Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, and save me so much talking.

My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you. Cheer your neighbors. Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen, whose fault is this? the red wine first must rise in their fair cheeks my lord then we shall have em talk us to silence you are a merry gamester my lord sands yes if i make my play here's to your ladyship and pledge it madam for tis such a thing you cannot show me i told your grace they would talk a non drum and trumpet chambers discharged what's that look out there some of ye exit servant what warlike voice unto what end is this nay ladies fear not by all the laws of war you're privileged re-enter servant how now what is it a noble troop of strangers for so they seem they've left the barge and landed and heather make as great ambassadors from foreign princes good lord chamberlain go give him welcome you can speak the french tongue

and pray receive them nobly and conduct them into our presence where this heaven of beauty shall shine at full upon them some attend him exit chamberlain attended all rise and tables removed 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 hot boys enter king henry the eighth and others as maskers habited like shepherds ushered by the chamberlain they pass directly before cardinal wolsey and gracefully salute him a noble company what are their pleasures 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 them say lord chamberlain they have done my poor house grace for which i pay em a thousand thanks and pray em take their pleasures they choose ladies for the dance king henry the eighth chooses anne the fairest hand i've attached o beauty till thou i never knew thee music dance my lord your grace pray tell em thus much for me there should be one amongst him 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.

I will, my lord. Whispers the maskers. What say they? Such a one, they all confess there is indeed, which they would have your grace find out, and he will take it. Let me see, then. By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make my royal royal. choice. He have found him, Cardinal. Unmasking. You hold a fair assembly. You do well, Lord. You are a churchman, or,

I'll tell you, Cardinal, I should judge now unhappily. I am glad your grace is grown so pleasant. My Lord Chamberlain, pretty, come hither. What fair lady is that? And it please, Your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter. The bank, Count Richmond. One of her highness's women. By heaven she is a dainty one. Sweetheart, I were unmanly to take you out and not to kiss you. A health gentleman, let it go round. Sir Thomas Luffel, is the banquet ready of the privy chamber? Yes, my lord.

Your grace, I fear with dancing, is a little heated. I fear too much. There's fresher air, my lord, in the next chamber. Lead in your ladies, everyone. Sweet partner, I must not yet forsake you. Let's be merry. Good, my lord, cardinal, I have half a dozen health to drink to these fair ladies, and a measure to lead them once again,

and then let's dream whose best in favour. Let the music knock it. Exund with trumpets End of Act 1 Act 2 of Henry VIII by William Shakespeare, This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

History of Henry VIII, Act 2. Scene 1. Westminster, a street. Enter two gentlemen, meeting. Wither away so fast? Oh, God save ye, even to the hall to hear what shall become of the great Duke of Buckingham. I'll save you that labor, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony of bringing back the prisoner. Were you there? Yes, indeed was I.

Pray, speak, what has happened? You may guess quickly what? Is he found guilty? Yes, truly is he, and condemned a part. I am sorry for it. So are a number more. But pray, how past it? I'll tell you in a little.

The great duke came to the bar, where to his accusations he pleaded still not guilty, and alleged 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 have brought Viva Voce to his face, at which appeared against him his surveyor, Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, and John Carr confessor to him with that devilmunk Hopkins that made this mischief. That was he that fed him with his prophecies? The same. All these accused him strongly which he feigned 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. After all this, how did he bear himself? When he was brought again to the bar, to hear his nail wrung out his judgment, he was stirred with such an agony, his sweat extremely, and something spoke in choler, ill and hasty. But he fell to himself again, and sweetly and all the rest showed him most noble patience.

I do not think he fears death. Sure he does not. He never was so womanish, the cause he may a little grieve at. Certainly the Cardinal is the end of this. Tis is 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. That trick of state was a deep envious one. At his return, no doubt, he will requite it. This is noted in generally whoever the King favors, the Cardinal instantly will find employment, and far from court, too. all the commons hate him perniciously and o my conscience wish him ten-fathom deep this duke as much they love and doodon call him bounteous buckingham the mirror of all courtesy

stay there sir and see the noble ruined man you speak of enter buckingham from his arraignment tip staves before him the axe with the edge towards him halberds on each side accompanied with lavelle vows sands and common people Let's stand close and behold him. 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 judgment, 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. Taz done, upon the premises, but justice, but those that sought it I could wish more Christians. Be what they will, I heartily forgive them.

Yet let them look, they glory not in mischief, nor build their evils on the graves of great men. For then my guiltless blood must cry against them. 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 love 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. Lead on, O God's name. I do beseech your grace, for charity, if ever any malice in your heart were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. Sir Thomas Lovell, as I free forgive you as I would be forgiven, I forgive all. There cannot be those numberless offences against 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 kings, 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. To the water-side I must conduct your grace, then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, who undertakes you to your end. Prepare there, the Duke is coming, see the barge be ready, and fit it with such furniture as suits the greatness of his person.

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 Bowen. Yet I am richer than my base accusers, that never knew what truth meant. I now seal it, and with me. the blood that make him one day groaned for it. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, who first raised head against usurping Richard, flying for succour to his servant Bannister, 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 8th life honour name and all that made me happy at one stroke has taken forever from the world I had my trial and must need say a noble one which makes me a little happier than my

wretched father yet thus far we are won 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 would 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. Agsoon Buckingham and train. Oh, this is full of pity.

Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their beads that were the authors. 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. Good angels keep it from us. What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir. This secret is so weighty, it will require a strong faith to conceal it. Let me have it.

I do not talk much. I am confident you shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear a buzzing of a separation between the king and Catherine? Yes, but it held not, for when the king once heard, heard it, out of anger he sent command to the Lord Mayor's strait to stop the rumour, and I'll lay those tongues that durst disperse it. But that slander, sir, is found a truth now, for it grows again fresher than air 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 Campius has arrived, and lately. as all think for this business. Tis the cardinal, and merely to revenge him on the emperor for not bestowing on him, ad is asking the Archbishopric of Toledo. This is purposed. I think you have hit the mark.

But it is not cruel that she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal will have his will, and she must fall. Tis woeful. We are too open here to argue this. Let's think in private more. Agzunt. Scene 2 An Antichamber in the Palace

Enter Chamberlain reading a letter 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 cardinals, By commission and main power took them from me. With this reason, his master would be served before a subject,

if not before the king, which stopped our mouth, sir. I fear he will indeed. Well, let them have him. He will have all, I think. Enter to Chamberlain, Norfolk and Suffolk. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. Good day to both your graces. How is the king employed?

I left him private, full of sad thoughts and troubles. What's the cause? It seems the marriage with his brother's wife has crept too near his conscience. No, his conscience has crept too near another lady. To 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. Pray God he do. He'll never know himself else. 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 great nephew. He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters dangers, doubts, ringing 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 him, the king, and is not this coarse pious? Heaven keep me from such counsel.

Tis most true these news are everywhere. Every tongue speaks them, and every true heart weeps for it. 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. And free us from his slavery. We had need pray and heartily for our deliverance, or this imperious. man will work us all from princes and page all men's honours lie like one lump before him to be fashioned into what pitch he please 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 their breath i not believe in i knew him and i know him so i leave him to him him that made him proud, the Pope.

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? Excuse me, the king has sent me otherware. Besides, you'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. Health to your lordships. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. Exit Chamberlain, and King Henry VIII draws the curtain and sits reading pensively. how sad he looks sure he is much afflicted who's there pray god he be not angry who's there i say how dare you thrust yourselves into my private meditations who am i

a gracious king that pardons all the fences malice ne'er meant our breach of duty this way is business of a state in which we come to know your royal pleasure ye are too bold go too i'll make ye know your times of business as this an hour for temporal affairs ha enter cardinal wolsey and cardinal compayas with a commission who's there my good lord cardinal o my wolsey the quiet and my wounded conscience thou art a cure fit for a king to cardinal compas you're welcome most learned reverend sir into our king kingdom. Use it and us. To Cardinal Woolsey. My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker. Sir, you cannot. I would your grace would give us but an hour of private conference. To Norfolk and Suffolk. We are busy. Go. Aside to Suffolk. This priest has no pride in him. Aside to Norfolk. Not to speak of. I would not be so sick, though, for his place. But this

cannot continue. Aside to Suffolk. If it do, I'll venture one have at him. Aside to Norfolk. I another. Exund, Norfolk and Suffolk. 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 favor to her, must not 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 judgment, invited by your noble self, hath sent one general tongue unto us, this good man, this just and learned priest, Cardinal Campius, whom once more I present unto your highness.

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. Your grace must needs deserve all stranger's loves. You are so noble. To your highness' hand I tender my commission, by whose virtue the court of Rome commanding you, my lord, cardinal of York, are joined with me, their servant in the unparcial judging of this business. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted forthwith for what you come.

Where's a gardener? 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. I, in the best she shall have, and my favour to him that does best. God forbid else, cardinal. Prithee, called Gardner to me, my new secretary. I find him a fit fellow.

Exit Cardinal Woolsey. Reenter Cardinal Woolsey with Gardiner. Aside to Gardiner. Give me your hand, much joy and favor to you. You are the kings now. Aside to Cardinal Woolsey. But to be commanded forever by your grace whose hand has raised me. Come hither, Gardner.

Walks and whispers. My lord of York, was not one Dr. Pache in this man's place before him? Yes, he was. Was he not held a learned man? Yes, surely. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then, even of yourself, Lord Cardinal. How, of me? 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 greed him, that he ran mad and died. Heaven'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 need be virtuous. 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. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. Exit Gardiner. the most convenient place i can think of for such a receipt of learning is blackfriars there you shall meet about this weighty business my woolsey see it furnished oh my lord would it not grieve an able man to live so sweet a bedfellow but conscience conscience oh tis but a tender place and i must leave her agzunt scene three An antechamber of the Queen's apartments. Enter Anne and an old lady.

Not for that, neither. Here's the pang that pinches. His Highness, having lived so long with her, and she so good a lady that no tongue could ever pronounce dishonour of her, by my life she never knew harm doing. Oh, now, after so many courses of the sun enthroned, still growing in a majesty in pomp, the witch to leave a thousandfold more bitter than tis sweet at first to acquire after this process to give her the avaunt it is a pity would move a monster hearts of most hard temper melt and lament for her

oh god's will much better she ne'er had known pomp though to be temporal yet if that quarrel fortune do divorce it from the bearer tis a sufferance panging as soul and body severing alas poor lady she's a stranger now again so much the more must pity drop upon her verily i swear tis better to be lowly born and range with humble livers and content than to be perked up in a glistering grief and wear a golden sorrow our content is our best having by my troth and maidenhead i would not be a queen be shrew me i would and venture maidenhead for it and so would you for all this spice of your hypocrisy you that have so fair parts of woman on you, have to a woman's heart, which erred yet affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty, which to say sooth are blessings, and which gifts, saving you are mincing, the capacity of your soft chevroles' conscience would receive, if you might please to stretch it. Nay, good troth. Yes, troth and troth, you would not be a queen? No, not for all the riches under heaven. It's strange. A three-pence-bens boat would hire me, old as I am to queen it. But I pray you, what think you of the Duchess?

Have you limbs to bear that load of title? No, in truth. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off little. I would not be a young count in your way, for more than blushing comes to if your back cannot vouchsafe this burden. Tis too weak ever to get a boy. How you do talk! I swear again I would not be a queen for all the world. in faith for little england you'll venture in embaling i myself would for cannarvonshire although there longed no more to the crown but that lo who comes here enter chamberlain good-morrow ladies what were it worth to know the secret of your conference my good lord not your demand it values not your asking are mistress sorrows we were pitying it was a gentle business and becoming the action of good-were women. There is hope. All will be well. Now I pray God, amen. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, perceive I speak sincerely, and high notes

taean of your many virtues. The king's majesty commends his good opinion of you, and does propose honor to you no less flowing than marchioness of Pembroke, to which title a thousand pound a year annual support. Out of his grace, he adds, I do not know what kind of my obedience I should tender, more than my all is nothing, nor my prayers are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes more worth than empty vanities, yet prayers and wishes are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,

as from a blushing handmaid to His Highness, whose health and royalty I pray for. Lady, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit, the king hath of you. Aside. I have perused her well. Beauty and honour in her are so mingled that they have caught the king. And who knows yet but from this lady may proceed a gem to lighten all this isle. I'll to the king, and say I spoke with you.

Exit Chamberlain. My honoured lord. Why, this is it! See? See? I have been begging sixteen years in court, and yet a courtier beggardly, nor could come Pat betwixt too early and too late, for any suit of pounds, and you, oh, fate, a very fresh fish here, fie, fie, fie upon! This compelled fortune! Have your mouth filled up before you open it! This is strange to me. How taste it? Is it bitter? Forty pence? No. There was a lady once, tis an old story, that would not be a queen, that would she not? for all the mud in Egypt.

Have you heard it? Come, you are pleasant. With your theme, I could o'er mount the lark. The matroness of Pembroke, a thousand pounds a year for pure respect. No other obligation, but my life that promises mow thousands. Honour's train is longer than his foreskirt.

By this time I know your back will bear it dushes. Say, are you not stronger than you were? Good lady, make yourself mirth with your particular fancy and leave me out on't. Would I had no being if this salute my blood a jot? It faints me to think what follows. The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful in our long absence. Pray do not deliver what here you've heard to her.

What do you think me? Exun't Scene four, a hall in black friars. Trumpets, Senate, and Cornets. Enter two vergers with short silver wands, next them two scribes in the habit of doctors after them canterbury alone after him lincoln eli rochester and st asaph next them with some small distance follows a gentleman bearing the purse with the great seal and a cardinal's hat then two priests bearing each a silver cross then a gentleman usher bare-headed accompanied with a sergeant-at-arms bearing a silver mace then two gentlemen-usher bare-headed accompanied with a sergeant-at-arms bearing a silver mace then two gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars. After them, side by side, Cardinal Woolsey and Cardinal

Campaeus, two noblemen with the sword and mace. King Henry V. 8th takes place under the cloth of state. Cardinal Woolsey and Cardinal Campeus sit under him as judges. Queen Catherine takes place some distance from King Henry V. 8. The bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a consistory. Below them, the scribes. The lords sit next the bishops. The rest of the attendants stand in convenient order about the stage. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, let silence be commanded. What's the need? It hath already publicly been read, and on all sides the authority allowed. You may then spare that time. Be it so, proceed.

King of England, come into the court. Henry, King of England, come into the court. Here. Say, Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court. Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court. Queen Catherine makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to King Henry VIII and kneels at his feet, then speaks. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice, and

to bestow your pity on me, for I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, born out of your dominions, having here no judge indifferent, nor no more assurance of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, in what have I offended you? What cause hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, that thus you should proceed to put me off and take your good grace? from me. Heaven, witness, I have been to you a true and humble wife, at all times to your will conformable, ever in fear to kindle your dislike, yea, a subject to your countenance, glad or sorry as I saw it inclined. When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire, or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends have I not strove to love, although I knew he were my

mine enemy. What friend of mine that had to him derived your anger did I continue in my liking? Nay gave notice he was from thence discharged. Sir, called to mind, that I have been your wife in this obedience upward of twenty years, and have been blessed with many children by you. If in the course and process of this time you can report, and prove it too against mine honor aught, my bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, against your sacred person, in God's name, turn me away, and let the false contempt shut door upon me, and so give me up to the sharpest kind of justice. Please, your sir, the king your father was reputed for a prince most prudent, of an excellent and unmatched wit and judgment.

Ferdinand, my father, King of Spain, was reckoned one the wisest prince that there had reigned by many a year before. It is not to be questioned that they had gathered a wise counsel to them of every realm that did debate this business, who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel I will implore. If not, in the name of God your pleasure be fulfilled. You have here, lady, and of your choice, these reverend fathers, men of singular integrity and learning, yea, the elect of the land,

who are assembled to plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless that longer you desire the court, as well for your own quiet as to rectify what is unsettled in the king. his grace has spoken well and justly therefore madam its fit this royal session do proceed and that without delay their arguments be now produced and heard lord cardinal to you i speak your pleasure madam sir i am about to weep but thinking that we are a queen or long have dreamed so certain the daughter of a king my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire. Be patient yet. I will when you are humble.

Nay before or God will punish me. I do believe induced by potent circumstances that you are mine enemy, and make my challenge you shall not be my judge. For it is you have blown this call betwixt my lord and me, which gods do quench. Therefore I say again. again, I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul, refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious foe, and think not at all a friend to truth.

I do profess you speak not like yourself, whoever yet have stood to charity, and displayed the effects of disposition gentle and of wisdom overtopping women's power. Madam, you do me wrong, I have no spleen against you. you, nor injustice for you or any. How far I have proceeded, or how far further shall, is warranted by a commission from the consistory, yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me that I have blown this coal. I do deny it. The king is present. If it be known to him that I gainsay my deed, how may he wound and worthily my falsehood? Yea, as much as you have done my truth. If he knows that I am free of your report, he knows I am not of your wrong. Therefore,

in him it lies to cure me, and the cure is to remove these thoughts from you. The which before His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech you, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking, and to say so no more. My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak to oppose your cunning. You're meek and humble-mouthed, you sign your place, and calling in full seeming with meekness and humility. But your heart is crammed with arrogance, spleen and pride. You have by fortune and His Highness favours gone slightly or low steps, and now are mounted where powers are your retainers, and your words domestic do you serve your will as to please yourself pronounce their office.

I must tell you, you tender more your person's honour than your high profession spiritual, that again I do refuse you for my judge, and here before you all appeal unto the Pope, to bring my whole cause for his holiness and to be judged by him. She curtsies to King Henry VIII and offers to depart. The queen is obstinate, stubborn to justice, apt to accuse, it and disdainful to be tried by it is not well she's going away call her again catherine queen of england come into the court madam you are called back what need you note it pray you keep your way when you are called return now the lord help they vex me past my patience pray you pass on i will not tarry no

nor ever more upon this business my appearance make in any of their courts." Exunned Queen Catherine and her attendants. Go thy ways, Kate, that man in the world who shall report he has a better wife, let him in naught be trusted, for speaking false in that. Thou art alone, if thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, a being in commanding, and thy part sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out, the queen of earthly queens. She's noble-born, and like her true nobility she has carried herself towards me.

Most gracious, sir, in humblest manner I require your highness that it shall please you to declare, in hearing of all these ears. For where I am robbed and bound there must I be unloosed, although not there at once and fully satisfied. Whether ever I did broach this business to your highness, or laid any scruple in your way which might induce you to the question on it, or ever have to you, but with thanks to God for such a royal lady, spake one the least word that might be to the prejudice of her present state, or touch of her good person. My lord, Cardinal, I do excuse you, yea, upon mine honour, I free you from it. You are not to be taught that you have many enemies that know not why they are so but like the village curs bark when their fellows do by some of these the queen is put in anger you're excused but will you be more justified

you ever have wished the sleeping of this business never desired it to be stirred but oft have hindered oft the passage is made toward it on my honour i speak my good lord cardinal to this point and thus far clear him now what moved me to it i will be bold with time and your attention then mark the inducement thus it came give heed to it my conscience first received the tenderness scruple and prick on certain speeches uttered by the bishop of bayonne then french ambassador who had been hither sent on the debating a marriage twixt the duke of orleans and our daughter mary in the progress of this business here a determinate resolution he i mean the bishop did require a respite wherein he might the king his lord advertise whether our daughter were legitimate respecting this our marriage with the dowager sometimes our brother's wife this respite shook the bosom of my conscience entered me yea with a splitting power and made to tremble a region of my breast which forced such way that many may's considerings did throng and pressed in with this caution first methought i stood not in the smile of heaven who had commanded nature that my lady's womb if it conceived a male child by me should do no more office of life to it than the grave does to the dead for her male issue or died whether they had been made or shortly after this world had aired them hence i took a thought this was a judgment on me that my kingdom well worthy the best air of the world should not be glad it in't by me then follows that i weighed the danger in which my realm stood in by this my issues fail and that gave to me many a groaning throw thus hulling in the wild sea of my conscience i did steer toward this remedy whereupon we are now present here together that's to say i meant to rectify my conscience

which i then did feel full sick and yet not well by all the reverend fathers of the land and doctors learned first i began in private with you my lord of lincoln you remember how under my oppression i did wreak when i first moved you very well my liege i have spoke long be pleased yourself to say how far you satisfied me so please your highness the question did at first so stagger me bearing a state of mighty moment in it and consequence of dread that i committed to the daring's counsel which i had to doubt and did entreat your highness to this course which you are running here i then moved you my lord of canterbury and got your leave to make this present summons unsolicited i left no reverend person in this court but by particular consent proceeded under your hands and seals therefore go on for no dislike of the world against the person of the good queen but the shabye but the shabye sharp thorny points in my alleged reasons drive this forward prove but our marriage lawful by my life and kingly dignity we are contented to wear our mortal state to come with her catherine our queen before the primest creature that's paragon to the world so please your highness the queen being absent tis a needful fitness that we adjourn this court till further day meanwhile must be an earnest made to the queen, to call back her appeal she intends unto his holiness. Aside.

I may perceive these cardinals trifle with me. I abhor this dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. My learned and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, please return. With thy approach I know, my comfort comes along. Break up the court, I say, set on. Exun't in manner as they entered. End of Asphor. Act 2. Act 3 of Henry VIII by William Shakespeare.

This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. History of Henry VIII, Act 3 Scene 1 London Queen Catherine's Apartments Enter Queen Catherine and her women as at work.

take thy lute wench my soul grows sad with troubles sing and disperse em if thou canst leave working o fears with his lute-made tree and tops that phrase bow themselves when he did sing to his music ever sprung as sun and shower hung their head in sweet music is so chad killing care and grateful enter a gentleman how now and please your grace the two great cardinals wait in the presence would they speak with me they will me say so madam pray their graces to come near exit gentlemen What can be their business with me? A poor weak woman fallen from favour. I do not like their coming. Now I think on it they should be good men.

Their affairs as righteous. But all hoods make not monks. Enter Cardinal Woolsey and Cardinal Campaeus. Peace to your highness. Your graces find me here part of a housewife. I would be all against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, Reverend? Lord's.

May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw into your private chamber, we shall give you the full cause of our coming. Speak it here. There's nothing I have done yet that my conscience deserves a corner. Would all other women could speak this with as free a soul as I do? My lords, I care not so much I am happy above a number, if my actions were tried by every tongue, every eye soarum, envy and base opinion set against them. I know my life so even.

If your business seek me out, and that way I am wife in, out with it boldly. Truth loves open dealing. Tenta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenisama. Oh, good, my lord, no Latin. I am not such a truant since my coming as not to know the language I have lived in. A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious. Pray speak in English. Here are some will thank you if you speak truth for their poor mistress's sake.

Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal, the willingness sin I ever yet committed may be absolved in English. Noble lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed and service to His Majesty and you, so deep suspicion where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accusation to taint that honour every good time. tongue blesses, nor to betray you any way to sorrow. You have too much, good lady, but to know how you stand minded in the weighty difference between the king and you, and to deliver, like free and honest men, our just opinions and comforts to your cause.

Most honored madam, my lord of York, out of his noble nature, seal and obedience he still bore your grace, forgetting like a good man your late censor, both of his truth and him, which was too far, offers as I do, in a sign of peace, his service, and his counsel. Aside, to betray me! My lords, I thank you both for your good wills. Ye speak like honest men. Pray God ye prove so. But how to make ye suddenly an answer in such a point of weight, so near mine honor?

More near my life, I fear, With my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth I know not. I was set at work among my maids, Full little, God knows, Looking either for such men or such business, For her sake that I have been,

For I fear the last fit of my greatness. Good your graces, let me have time and counsel for my cause. Alas, I am a woman, friendless! hopeless. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears. Your hopes and friends are infinite. In England but little for my prophet. Can you think, lords, that any Englishman dare give me counsel?

Or be a known friend gainst his highness pleasure, though he be grown so desperate to be honest and live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, they that must weigh out my afflictions, they that my trust must grow to live not here. They are as all my other comforts far hence, In mine own country, lords. I would your grace would leave your griefs and take my counsel.

How, sir? Put your main cause into the king's protection. He's loving and most gracious. It will be much both for your honour better and your cause, for if the trial of the law overtake ye, you'll part away disgraced. He tells you rightly. Ye tell me what ye wish for both.

My ruin. Is this your Christian council? Out upon ye. Heaven is above all yet. There sits a judge that no king can corrupt. Your rage mistakes us. The more shame for ye. Holy men I thought ye.

Upon my soul too reverent, cardinal virtues. But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye. Men them for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady? A woman lost among ye, laughed at scorn? I will not wish ye half my miseries. I have more charity. But say I warn ye. Take heed for heaven's sake, take heed lest at once the burden of my sorrow. fall upon ye. Madam, this is mere distraction. You turn the good we offer into envy.

Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye and all such false professors! Would you have me, if you have any justice, any pity, if ye be anything but churchman's habits? Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me. Alas has banished me his bed already, his love too long ago. I am old, my lords, and all the fellowship I hold now with him is only my obedience.

What can happen to me above this wretchedness? All your studies make me a curse like this. Your fears are worse. Have I lived thus long? Let me speak myself, since virtue find no friends. A wife, a true one! A woman, I dare say, without vain glory, never yet. branded with suspicion. Have I with all my full affection still met the king, loved him next

heaven, obeyed him, been out of fondness superstitious to him, almost forgot my prayers to content him. And am I thus rewarded? Tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, one that ne'er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure, and Do that woman when she has done most, yet will I add an honor, a great patience. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty to give up willingly that noble title your master wed me to. Nothing but death shall ere divorce my dignities. Pray hear me.

Would I had never trod this English earth, or felt the flatteries that grow upon it? Ye have angels' faces But heaven knows your hearts What will become of me now, wretched lady? I am the most unhappy woman living. Alas, poor wenches! Where are now your fortunes? Shipwrecked upon a kingdom

Where no pity, No friend, no hope, no kindred weep for me? Almost no grave allowed me. Like the lily that once was mistress of the field and flourished. I'll hang my head and perish. If your grace could but be brought to know our ends are honest, you'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady, upon what cause wrong you? Alas, our places, the way of our profession, is against it. We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. For goodness sake, consider what you

do, how you may hurt yourself. I, utterly grow. from the king's acquaintance by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience, so much they love it. But to stubborn spirits they swell and grow as terrible as storms. I know you have a gentle noble temper, a soul as even as a calm. Pray think us those we profess, peacemakers, friends, and servants. Madam, you'll find it so. You'll wrong your virtues with these weak women's fears. A noble spirit as yours was put into you, ever cast such doubts as false coin from it. The king loves you, beware you lose it not. For us, if you please to trust us in your business, we are ready to use our utmost studies in your service.

Do what ye will, my lords, and pray forgive me if I have used myself unmannerly. You know I am a woman, lacking wit to make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray do my service to his majesty. He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers while I shall have my life. Come, reverent fathers, bestow your counsels on me. She now begs that little thought when she set footing here she should have bought her dignities so dear. Exun't Scene 2 Anti-Chamber to King Henry

8th's apartment Enter Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey and Chamberlain If you will now unite in your complaints And force them with a constancy The Cardinal cannot stand under them If you omit the offer of this time I cannot promise but that you shall sustain

More new disgraces With these you bear already I am joyful to meet the least occasion that may give me remembrance of my father-in-law the duke to be revenged on him which of the peers have uncondemned gone by him or at least strangely neglected when did he regard the stamp of nobleness in any person out of himself my lords you speak your pleasures what he deserves of you and me i know what we can do to him though now the time gives way to us i much fear if you cannot bar his access to the king never attempt anything on him for he hath a witchcraft over the king in his tongue oh fear him not his spell in that is out the king hath found matter against him that for ever mars the honey of his language no he's settled not to come off in his displeasure sir i should be glad to hear such news as this once every hour believe it this is true in the divorce his contrary proceedings are all unfolded wherein he appears as i would wish mine enemy How came his practices to light?

Most strangely. Oh, how, how? The Cardinal's letters to the Pope miscarried, and came to the eye of the king, wherein was read how that the Cardinal did entreat his holiness to stay the judgment of the divorce, for if it did take place, I do, quoth he,

perceive my king is tangled in affection to a creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Berlin. has the king this believe it will this work the king in this perceives him how he coasts and hedges his own way but in this point all his tricks found her and he brings his physic after his patient's death the king already hath married the fair lady would he had may you be happy in your wish my lord for i profess you have it now all my joy trace the conjunction my arm men to it. All men's. There's order given for her coronation.

Mary, this is yet but young and may be left to some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, she is a gallant creature, and complete in mind and feature. I persuade me from her will fall some blessing to this land, which shall in it be memorized. But will the king digest this letter of the cardinals? The Lord forbid. dead. Mary, amen. No, no, there be more wasps that buzz about his nose will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Camperius has stolen away to Rome, hath tae in no leave, has left the cause of the king unhandled, and is posted as the agent of our cardinal to second

all his plot. I do assure you the king cried, ha, at this. Now God incents him, and let him cry ha louder. my lord, when returns Kramna? He is returned, in his opinions, which have satisfied the king for his divorce, together with all famous colleges almost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe, his second marriage shall be published, and her coronation. Catherine no more shall be called queen, but Princess Dowager, and widow to Prince Arthur. This same Kranmer is a worthy fellow, and hath te'en much pain in the king's business.

He has. and we shall see him for it an archbishop so i hear tis so the cardinal enter cardinal wolsey and cromwell observe he's moody the packet cromwell gave it you the king to his own hand in his bedchamber looked he of the inside of the paper presently he did unseal them and the first he viewed he did it with a serious mind a heed was in his countenance You he bade attend him here this morning. Is he ready to come abroad? I think by this he is. Leave me a while. Exit Cromwell. Aside.

It shall be to the Duchess of Alonsohn, the French king's sister. He shall marry her. Anne Bullen. No, I'll know Anne Bullens for him. There's more in it than fair visage, Bullen. Now we'll know Bullens. Speedily, I wish to hear. from Rome, the Martianess of Pembroke.

He is discontented. Maybe he hears the king does wet his anger to him. Sharp enough, Lord, for thy justice. Aside. The late Queen's gentlewoman, a knight's daughter, to be her mistress, mistress, the Queen's Queen, this candle burns not clear, tis I must snuff it, then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous and well-deserving, Yet I know her for a spleeny Lutheran,

And not wholesome to our cause, That she should lie of the bosom of our hard-ruled king. Again there is sprung up an heretic, an arch one, Cranmer, one hath crawled into the favor of the king, And is his oracle. He is vexed at something. I would twere something that would fret the string, the master cordon's heart.

Enter King Henry VIII, reading of a schedule and Lavelle. The king, the king! What piles of wealth hath he accumulated to his own portion, and what expense by the hour seems to flow from him? How, in the name of thrift, does he rake this together?

Now, my lord, saw you the cardinal? My lord, we have stood here observing him, some strange commotion is in his brain, he bites his lip and starts stops on a sudden looks upon the ground then lays his finger on his temple straight springs out into a fast gate then stops again strikes his breast hard anon he casts his eye against the moon in most strange postures we have seen him set himself it may well be there is a mutiny ince mind this morning papers of state he sent me to peruse as i required and watch you what i found there on my conscience put unwittingly forsooth an inventory thus importing the several parcels of his plate his treasure rich stuffs and ornaments of household which i find at such proud rate that it outspeaks possession of a subject it's heaven's will some spirit put this paper in the packet to bless your eye with all if we did think his contemplation were above the earth and fixed on spiritual object he should still dwell in his musings but i'm afraid his thinkings are below the moon not worth his serious considering king henry the eighth takes his seat whispers lavelle who goes to cardinal wolsey heaven forgive me ever god bless your highness

good my lord you are full of heavenly stuff and bear the inventory of your best graces in your mind the which you are now running oar you have scarce time to steal from spiritual leisure a brief span to keep your earthly audit sure in that i deem you a ill-husband and am glad to have you there in my companion sir for holy offices i have a time a time to think upon the part of business which i bury the state and nature does require her times of preservation which perforce i her frail son amongst my brethren mortal must give my tendance to you have said well and ever may your highness yoke together as i will lend you cause my doing well with my well-saying tis well said again and tis a kind of good deed to say well yet words are no deeds my father love you he said he did and with his deed did crown his word upon you since i had my office i have kept you next my heart have not alone employed you where high prophets might come home but paid my present havings to bestow my bounties upon you aside what should this mean aside the lord increase this business have i not made you the prime man of the state i pray you tell me if what i now pronounce you have found true and if you may confess it say withal if you are bound to us or no what say you my sovereign i confess your royal graces showered on me daily have been more than could my studied purposes requite which went beyond all man's endeavours my endeavours have ever come too short of my desires yet filed with my abilities

mine own ends have been mine so that evermore they pointed to the good of your most sacred person and the prophet of the state for your great graces heaped upon me poor undeserver i can nothing render but allegiant thanks my prayers to heaven for you my loyalty which ever has and ever shall be growing till death that winter kill it fairly answered a loyal and obedient subject is therein illustrated the honour of it does pay the act of it as in the contrary the foulness is the punishment i presume that as my hand has opened bounty to you my heart dropped to love my power reigned honour more on you than any so your hand and heart your brain and every function of your power should notwithstanding that your bond of duty as twere in love's particular be more to me your friend than any i do profess that for your highness good i ever labored more than mine own that am have and will be though all the world should crack their duty to you and throw it from their soul though perils did abound as thick as thought could make him and appear in forms more horrid yet my duty as doth a rock against the shiting flood, should the approach of this wild river break

and stand unshaken yours. Tis nobly spoken. Take notice, lords. He has a loyal breast, for you have seen him open it. Read or this. Giving him papers. And after this,

and then to breakfast with what appetite you have. Exit King Henry VIII, frowning upon Cardinal Woolsey. The nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering. What should this mean? What sudden anger is this? How have I reaped it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin leaped from his eyes. So looks the chafed lion upon the daring huntsman that has galled him, then makes him nothing. I must read this paper. I fear the story of his anger. "'Tis so. This paper has undone me. "'Tis the account of all that world of wealth I have drawn together for mine own ends,

"'indeed, to gain the popedom and fee my friends in Rome. "'Oh, negligence, fit for a fool to fall by! "'What cross-devil made me put this main secret in the packet I sent the king!' "'Is there no way to cure this? no new device to beat this from his brains. I know t'r will stir him strongly. Yet I know away if I take right in spite of fortune will bring me off again. What's this?

To the Pope! The letter as I live with all the business I writ to His holiness! Nay then, farewell. I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, and from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting. I shall fall like a bright exhalation in the evening, and no man see me more. Re-enter to Cardinal Walsy, Norfolk and Suffolk, Surrey and the Chamberlain. Hear the King's pleasure, Cardinal, who commands you to render up the great seal presently into our hands,

and to confine yourself to Asher House, my lord of Winchester's, till you hear, hear further from His Highness. Stay, where's your commission, lords? Words cannot carry authority so weighty. Who dare cross him, bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? Till I find more than will or words to do it, I mean your malice, no officious lords I dare and must deny it. Now I feel of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy.

How eagerly ye follow my disgraces. as if it fed ye, and how sleek and wanton ye appear in everything may bring my ruin. Follow your envious courses, men of malice. You have Christian warrant for them, and no doubt in time will find their fit rewards. That seal, you ask with such a violence, the king, mine and your master, with his own hand, gave me, bad me enjoy it with the place and honors during my life, and to confirm his goodness tied it by letters patents. Now who will take it? The king that gave it.

It must be himself then. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. Proud lord thou liest. Within these forty hours surrey durst better have burnt that tongue than said so. Thy ambition, thou scarlet sin, robbed this bewailing land of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law. The heads of all thy brother cardinals, with thee and all thy best parts bound together,

weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy, you sent me deputy for Ireland, far from his succor, from the king, from all that might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him, whilst your great goodness out of holy pity absolved him with an axe. This and all else this talking lord can lay upon my credit,

I answer is most false. Duke by law found his deserts. How innocent I was from any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness. If I loved many words, Lord, I should tell you you have as little honesty as honor, that in the way of loyalty and truth toward the king, my ever royal master, dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be and all that love his follies. By my soul, your long-coat priest protects you. Thou shouldst feel my sword, e'th a life-blood of thee else.

My lords, can ye endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow, if we live thus tamely, to be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, farewell nobility. Let his grace go forward and dare us with his cap like larks. All goodness is poison to thy stomach. Yes, that goodness of gleaning. all the land's wealth into one, into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion. The goodness of your intercepted packets you writ to the Pope against the king. Your goodness, since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, as you respect the common good,

the state of our despised nobility, our issues, who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, produced the grand sum of his sins the articles collected from his life. I'll startle you worse than the scaring bell when the brown wench lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal. How much me thinks I could despise this man, but that I am bound in charity against it. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand, but thus much they are foul ones.

So much fairer and spotless shall mine innocence arise when the king knows my truth. This cannot save you. I thank my memory, I yet remember some of these articles, and out they shall. Now if you can blush and cry guilty, Cardinal, you'll show a little honesty.

Speak on, sir, I dare your worst objections. If I blush, it is to see a nobleman want manners. I had rather want those than my head. Have at you. First, that, without the king's assent or knowledge you wrought to be a legate, by which power you maimed the jurisdiction

of all bishops. Then, that in all you writ to Rome or else to foreign princes, ergo et rexmius, was still inscribed, in which you brought the king to be your servant. Then that, without the knowledge either of king or counsel, when you went ambassador to the emperor, you made bold to carry into Flanders the great seal. item you sent a large commission to gregory de casado to conclude without the king's will or the state's allowance a league between his highness and ferrara that out of mere ambition you have caused your holy hat to be stamped on the king's coin then that you have sent innumerable substance by what means god i leave to your own conscience to furnish rome and to prepare the ways you have for dignities to the mere undoing of all the kingdom. Many more there are, which, since they are of you and odious, I will not taint my mouth with. O my lord, press not a falling man too far. Tis virtue. His faults lie open to the

laws. Let them, not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him so little of his great self. I forgive him. Lord Cardinal, the king's further pleasure is, because all those things you done of late by your power legatine within this kingdom fall into the compass of a preemunir that therefore such a writ be sued against you to forfeit all your goods lands tenements chattels and whatsoever and to be out of the king's protection this is my charge and so we'll leave you to your meditations how to live better for your stubborn answer about the giving back the great seal to us, the king shall know it, and no doubt shall thank you. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal. Agund all but Cardinal Woolsey. So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness. This is the state of man. Today he puts forth the tender leaves of hopes. Tomorrow, blossoms and bears.

his blushing honors thick upon him, the third day comes a frost, a killing frost, and when he thinks, good easy man full surely his greatness is a ripening, nips his root, and then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, this many summers in a sea of glory, but far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride at length broke under me, and now has left me weary and old with service, To the mercy of a rude stream that must forever hide me.

Vain pomp and glory of this world I hate ye. I feel my heart new opened. Oh, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' fiend! favors. There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have. And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again. Enter Cromwell and stands amazed. Why, how now, Cromwell? I have no power to speak, sir. What, amazed at my misfortunes?

Can thy spirit wonder a great man should decline? Nay, and you weep, I am fallen indeed. How does your grace? Why, well, never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now, and I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, I humbly thank his grace, and from these shoulders these ruined pillars, out of pity, taken a load would sink a navy, too much honour. Oh, tis a burthen, Cromwell, tis a burthen too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, out of a fortitude of soul I feel, too endure more miseries and greater far than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad? The heaviest and the worst is your displeasure with the king. God bless him. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place.

That's somewhat sudden, but he's a learned man. May he continue long in His Highness's favor, and do justice for truth's sake and his conscience. that his bones when he has run his course and sleeps in blessings may have a tomb of orphan's tears wept on him what more that cranmer is returned with welcome installed lord archbishop of canterbury that's news indeed last that the lady anne whom the king hath in secrecy long married this day was viewed in open as his queen going to chapel and the voices now only about her coronation There was the weight that pulled me down. O Cromwell, the king has gone beyond me. All my glories in that one woman I have lost forever. No son shall ever usher forth mine honors

or gild again the noble troops that waited upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell. I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now to be thy lord and master. Seek the king. That son, I pray, may never set. I have told him what and how true thou art. He will advance thee. Some little memory of me will stir him. I know his noble nature, not to let thy hopeful service perish to. Good Cromwell, neglect him not. Make use now and provide for thine own future safety. O Lord, must then I leave you? Must I needs forego so good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron, with what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service, but my prayers forever and forever shall be yours. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear in all my miseries, but thou hast forced me out of thy honest

truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes, and thus far hear me Cromwell, and when I am forgotten as I shall be, and sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee, say, Woolsey that once trod the ways of glory, and sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, found thee away out of his wreck to rise in, a sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me, Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels. How can man then the image of his maker hope to win by it? Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee,

Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace to silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not. Let all the ends thou aimest at be thy countries, thy gods, and truths. Then if thou fallest, O Cromwell, thou fath. fallest a blessed martyr. Serve the king, and, Prithee, lead me in. There take an inventory of all I have to the last penny.

Tis the kings. My robe and my integrity to heaven is all I dare now call mine own. Oh, Cromwell, Cromwell, had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies. Good sir. Have patience. So I have. Farewell, the hopes of court. My hopes in heaven do dwell. Agzunt. End of Act 3. Act 4 of Henry VIII by William Shakespeare. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. History of Henry VIII. Act 4 Scene 1 A Street in Westminster Enter two gentlemen meeting one another. You're well met once again. So are you. You come to take your stand here,

and behold, the Lady N pass from her coronation. Tis all my business. At our last encounter, the Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. "'Tis very true, but that time offered sorrow, this general joy. "'Tis well. The citizens, I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds. "'As let them have their rights, they are ever forward, in celebration of this day with shows, pageants, and sights of honor. "'Never greater, nor I'll assure you better taken, sir.' "'May I be bold to ask at, what that contains, that paper in your hand?'

"'Yes, tis the list of those that claim their offices this day by custom, of the coronation. The Duke of Sulfoak is the first, and claims to be High Steward. Next, the Duker Norfolk. He to be Earl Marshall. You may read the rest. I thank you, sir. Had I not known those customs I should have been beholding to your paper.

But I beseech you, what's become of Catherine, the Princess Dowager? How goes her business? That I can tell you, too. The Archbishop of Canterbury, accompanied with other learned and reverend fathers of his order, held a late court at Dunstable six miles off from Amthel where the princess lay, to which she was often cited by them, but appeared not, and to be short, for not appearance in the king's late scruple, by the mainest sin of all these learned men she was divorced, and the late marriage made of none effect, since which she was removed to Kimbleton, where she remains now sick.

Alas, good lady. Trumpets The trumpet sounds Stand close the queen is coming Hot boys The order of the coronation 1. A lively flourish of trumpets. Two, then two judges.

Three, Lord Chancellor, With the purse and mace before him. Four, choristers singing. Music Five, Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then garter in his coat of arms and on his head a gilt copper crown. 6. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronel of gold.

With him, Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS. 7. Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand as high steward. With him, Norfolk, with the rod of marshal ship, a coronet. coronet on his head, collars of SS. 8. A canopy borne by four of the syncoports, under it, Queen Anne in her robe, in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her, the bishops of London and Winchester.

9. The old Duchess of Norfolk in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers bearing Queen Anne's train. 10. Certain ladies or countesses with plain circlet of gold without flowers. They pass over the stage in order and state. A royal train, believe me, these I know. Who's that that bears the scepter? Marquise Dorset, and that the Earl of Surrey with the rod. A bold, brave gentleman. That should be the Duke of Suffolk?

Tis the same, high steward. And that, my lord of Norfolk? Yes. Heaven bless thee. Looking on Queen Anne. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on. Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel. Our king has all the indies in his arms,

And more the richer, when he strains that lady. I cannot blame his conscience. They that bear the cloth of honour over her Are four barons of the sink-ports. Those men are happy, and so are all, are near her. I take it she that carries up the train As that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. It is, and all the rest are countesses.

their cornets say so these are stars indeed and sometimes falling ones no more of that exit procession and then a great flourish of trumpets enter a third gentleman god save you sir where have you been broiling among the crowd in the abbey where a finger could not be wedged in more i am stifled with the mere rankness of their joy you saw the ceremony that i did how was it well worth the seeing good sir speaking to us as well as i am able the rich stream of lords and ladies having brought the queen to a prepared place in the choir fell off a distance from her while her grace sat down to rest awhile some half an hour or so in a rich chair of state opposing freely the beauty of her person to the people believe me sir she is the goodliest woman that ever lay by man which when the people had the full view of such a noise arose as the shrouds make at sea and a stiff tempest as loud and to as many tunes hats cloaks doublets i think flew up and had their faces been loose this day they had been lost such joy i never saw before great-bellied women that had not half a week to go like rams in the old time of war would shake the press and make em real before em no man living could say this is my wife there all were woven so strangely in one piece but what followed at length her grace rose and with modest paces came to the altar where she kneeled and saint-like cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly then rose again and bowed her to the people

when by the archbishop of canterbury she had all the royal makings of a queen as holy oil edward confessor's crown the rod and bird of peace and all such emblems laid nobly on her which performed the choir but all the choicest music of the kingdom together sung te deum so she parted and with the same full state paced back again to york place where the feast is held sir you must know more colleagues York Place that's past, for since the Cardinal fell, that titles lost, tis now the kings and called Whitehall. I know it, but tis so lately altered that the old name is fresh about me. What two Reverend bishops were those that went on each side of the Queen? Stokesley and Gardner, the one of Winchester newly preferred from the King's secretary, the other London.

He of Winchester has held no great good lover of the archbishops, the virtuous Cranmer. All the land knows that. However, yet there is no great breach. When it comes, Cranwell will find a friend will not shrink from him. Who may that be, I pray you? Thomas Cromwell, a man in much esteem with the king, and truly a worthy friend. The king has made him master of the jewel house, and one already of the Privy Council. He will deserve more.

Yes, without all doubt. Come, gentlemen, you shall go my way, which is to the court, and there you shall be my guests, something I can command. As I walk thither, I'll tell ye more. You may command us, sir. Agzunt. Scene two, Kim Bolton.

Enter Catherine, Dowager, sick, led between Griffith, her gentleman usher, and patience her woman. How does your grace? O Griffith, sick to death. My legs like load and branches, bow to the earth, willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair.

So now methinks I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledst me, that the great child of honour, Cardinal Walsy, was dead? Yes, madam, but I think your grace, out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to it. Pretty good, Griffith, tell me how he died. If well he stepped before me happily for my example. Well, the voice goes, madam, for after the stout Earl Northumberland arrested him at York,

he brought him forward, as a man sorely tainted, to his answer. He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill he could not sit his mule. At last, poor man! At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, lodged in the abbey, where the Reverend Abbott, with all his covent, honourably received him, to whom he gave these words. Oh, Father Abbott, an old man, broken with the storms of state, is come to lay his weary bones among ye, give him a little earth for charity. So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness pursued him still, and, three nights after this, about the hour of eight, which he himself foretold should be his last, full of repentance, continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, he gave his honors to the world again, his blessed part to have. heaven and slept in peace. So may he rest. His faults lie gently on him.

Yet thus far Griffith give me little speak him, and yet with charity. He was a man of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking himself with princes, one that by suggestion tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair play. His own opinion was his law. In the presence he would say untruthes, and, be ever double both in his words and meaning. He was never but where he meant to ruin pitiful. His promises were as he was then mighty, but his performance as he is now, nothing. Of his own body he was ill, and gave the clergy in example. Noble, madam, men's evil manners live in brass.

Their virtues we write in water. May it please, Your Highness, to hear me speak his good now? Yes, good Griffith. I wear malicious else. This cardinal, though from an humble stock, undoubtedly was fashioned too much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar and a ripe and good one, exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading, lofty and sour to them that loved him not, but to those men that sought him sweet as summer, and though he was unsatisfied in getting, which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, he was most princely, ever witnessed for him those twins of learning that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford, one of which fell with him, unwilling to outlive the good that it did, the other, though unfinished, yet so famous, so excellent in art, and still

so rising, that Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heaped happiness upon him, For then, and not till then, he felt himself and found the blessedness of being little, and, to add greater honors to his age than man could give him, he died fearing God. After my death I wish no other herald, no other speaker of my living actions, to keep mine honor from corruption, but such an honest chronicler as Griffith, whom I most hated living, thou hast made me with thy, religious truth and modesty, now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him.

Patience, be near me still and set me lower. I have not long to trouble thee. Good, Griffith, cause the musicians play me that sad note I named Minell, whilst I sit meditating on that celestial harmony I go to. Sad and solemn music. She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet, for fear we wake her. Softly, gentle patience.

The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays and golden wizards on their faces, branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first conge unto her, then dance, and at certain changes the first two hold a spare garland over her head. at which the other four make reverent curtsies. Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes,

and holding the garland over her head. Which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order, at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven, and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them.

The music continues. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are you gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye. Madam, we are here. It is not you I call for. Saw you none enter since I slept? None, madam.

No? So you not, even now, a blessed troop invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces cast thousand beams upon me like the sun. They promised me eternal happiness, and brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall assuredly. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams possess your fancy. Bid the music leave. They are harsh and heavy to me. Music ceases. Do you note how much her grace is altered on the sudden? How long her face

is drawn, how pale she looks, and of an earthy cold. Mark her eyes. She is going, wench. Pray, pray. Heaven comfort her. Enter a messenger. And like your grace, you are a saucy fellow, deserve we no more reverence. You are to blame, knowing she will not lose her wanted greatness to use so rude behavior. Go to, kneel. I humbly do entreat your highness pardon. My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying a gentleman sent from the king to see you. Admit him entrance, Griffith.

But this fellow let me ne'er see again. Exunned Griffith and messenger. Reenter Griffith with Capusius. If my sight fell not, you should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, my royal nephew, and your name Capuchus? "'Madame, the same, your servant. "'Oh, my lord, the times and titles now are altered strangely with me since first you knew me. "'But I pray you what is your pleasure with me?'

"'Noble lady, first mine own service to your grace, the next the king's request that I would visit you, "'who grieves much for your weakness, and by me sends you his princely commendations, "'and heartily entreat you take good comfort.' O my good lord, that comfort comes too late. It is like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic given in time had cured me. But now I am past the comfort here. But prayers.

How does His Highness? Madame, in good health. So may he ever do, and ever flourish, when I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name banished the kingdom. Patience is that letter I caused you right yet sent away? No, madam. Giving it to Catherine.

Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver this to my lord the king. Most willing, madame. In which I have commended to his goodness the model of our chaste loves, his young daughter. The dues of heaven fall thick in blessings on her, beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding. She is young and of a noble, modest nature. I hope she will deserve well, and a little to love her, for her mother's sake, that loved him heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition is that his noble grace would have some pity upon my wretched women, that so long have followed both my fortunes faithfully,

of which there is not one I dare a vow, and now I should not lie but will deserve for virtue and true beauty of the soul, for honesty and decent carriage, a right good husband. Let him be a noble, and sure those men are happy that shall have him. The last is for my men. They are the poorest, but poverty could never draw from me. That they may have their wages duly pay them, and something over to remember me by. If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life and able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents. And good, my lord,

by that you love the dearest in this world, as you wish Christian peace to souls departed, stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king to do me this last right. By heaven I will, or let me lose the fashion of a man. I thank you, honest Lord. remember me in all humility unto his highness say his long trouble now is passing out of this world tell him in death i blessed him for so i will mine eyes grow dim farewell my lord griffith farewell nay patience you must not leave me yet i must to bed call in more women when i am dead

good wench let me be used with honor, strew me over with maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave. Imbalm me, then lay me forth, although unqueened yet like a queen, and daughter to a king interme. I can no more. Exunned, leading Catherine. End of Act four. Act 5 of Henry V by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

History of Henry V, Act 5. Scene 1. London. A gallery in the palace. Enter Gardner, Bishop of Winchester, a page with a torch before him, met by Lavelle. it's one o'clock boy is it not it hath struck these should be hours for necessities not for delights times to repair our nature with comforting repose and not for us to waste these times good hour of the night sir thomas with us or late came you from the king my lord i did sir thomas and left him at primero with the duke of suffolk i must to him too before he goes to bed i'll take my leave Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? It seems you are in haste, and if there be no great offence belongs to it. Give your friend some touch of your late business, affairs that walk, as they say spirits do at midnight, have in them a wilder nature than the business that seeks dispatch by day. My lord, I love you, and durst commend a secret to your ear, much weightier than this work. The queens in labour, they say, in great extremity, and feared she'll with the labour.

End. The fruit she goes with I pray for heartily that it may find good time and live, but for the stock, Sir Thomas. I wish it grubbed up now. Methinks I could cry the amen, and yet my conscience says she's a good creature, and sweet lady does deserve our better wishes. But sir, sir, sir, hear me, Sir Thomas. You're a gentleman of mine own way.

I know you wise, religious. And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well. It will not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take it of me, till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, sleep in their graves. Now, sir, you speak of two the most remarked in the kingdom. As for Cromwell, beside that of the jewel-house, is made master of the rolls, and the king's secretary.

Further, sir, stands in the gap and trade of mo preferments, with which the time will load him. archbishop is the king's hand and tongue, and who dare speak one syllable against him?' "'Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, there are that dare, and I myself have ventured to speak my mind of him. And indeed this day, sir, I may tell it you, I think I haven't sensed the Lord's of the Council that he is, for so I know he is, they know he is, a most archeretic, a pestilence that does infect the land, with which they move in have broken with the king, who hath so far given ear to our complaint, of his great grace and princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs

our reasons laid before him, hath commanded to-morrow morning to the council-board he be convented. He's a rank-weed, Sir Thomas, and we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long. Good night, Sir Thomas. Many good-nights, my lord. I rest your servant. Exunct Gardiner and Page. Enter King Henry VIII and suffer. Charles, I will play no more tonight. My mind's not on't. You are too hard for me. Sir, I did never win of you before. But little, Charles, nor shall not when my fancies on my play. Now, Lavo, from the Queen, what is the news? I could not personally deliver to her what you commanded me,

but by her woman I sent your message, who returned her thanks in the greatest humbleness, and desired your highness most heartily to pray for her. What seest thou, huh? To pray for her? What, is she crying out? So said her woman, and that her sufferance made almost each pang a death. Alas, good lady.

God safely quit her of her burden, and with gentle travail to the gladding of your highness with an air. It is midnight, Charles, prithee to bed, and in thy prayers remember the estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone, for I must think of that which company would not be friendly to. I wish your highness a quiet knight, and my good mistress will remember in my prayers. Charles, good night. Exit Suffolk. Enter Denny.

Well, sir, what follows? Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, as you commanded me. Ah, Canterbury? Aye, my good lord. Tis true. Where is he, Denny? He attends your highness' pleasure. Exit Denny. Aside.

This is about that which the bishop spake. I am happily come hither. Reenter Denny with Cranmer. Avoid the gallery. Lavelle seems to stay. Ah, I've said, be gone. What? Exund Lavelle and Denny.

aside i am fearful wherefore frowns he thus tis his aspect of terror all's not well how now my lord you desire to know wherefore i sent for you kneeling it is my duty to attend your highness pleasure pray you arise my good and gracious lord of canterbury come you and i must walk a turn together i have news to tell you. Come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good Lord, I grieve at what I speak, and am right sorry to repeat what follows I have, and most unwillingly, I've late heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, grievous complaints of you, which, being considered, have moved us and our counsel that you shall this morning come before us. Where I know you cannot with such freedom purge yourself but that till further. the trial in those charges which will require your answer you must take your patience to you and be well contented to make your house our tower you a brother of us it fits we thus proceed or else no witness would come against you kneeling

i humbly thank your highness and am right glad to catch this good occasion most throughly to be winnowed where my chaff and corn shall fly a sunday for I know there's none stands under more columnious tongues than I myself, poor man. Stand up, good Canterbury. Thy truth and integrity is rooted in us, thy friend. Give me thy hand. Stand up. Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidam, what manner of man are you? My lord, I looked you would have given me your petition,

that I should have attained some pains to bring together yourself and your your accusers, and to have heard you without endurance further. Most dread leach, the good I stand on is my truth and honesty. If they shall fail, I with mine enemies, will triumph or my person, which I weigh not, being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing what can be said against me. Know you not how your state stands in the world with the whole world? the whole world? Your enemies are many and not small. Their practices must bear the same proportion,

and not ever the justice and the truth of the question carries the due of the verdict with it. At what ease might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt to swear against you? Such things have been done. You are pudently opposed, and with a malice as of great size. When you have better luck, I mean in perjured witness than your master, whose minister. you are whilst here he lived upon his naughty earth go to go too go too you take a precipice for no leap of danger and woo your own destruction god and your majesty protect mine innocence or i fall into the trap is laid for me be of good cheer they shall no more prevail than we give way to keep comfort to you and this morning see you do appear before them if they shall chance in charge of you with matters to commit you, the best persuasions to the contrary fail not to use, and with what vehemency the occasion shall instruct you. If entreaties will render you no remedy,

this ring deliver them, and you're appealed to us, their make before them. Look, the good man weeps. He's honest upon mine honour. God's blessed mother, I swear he is true-hearted, and a soul none better in my kingdom. Get you gone, and do as I bid you. Exit Cranmer. He has strangled his language in his tears. Enter old lady, Lavelle following. Within. Come back. What mean you?

I'll not come back. The tidings that I bring will make my boldness manners. Now good angels fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person under their blessed wings. Now by thy looks I guess thy message, is the queen delivered? See aye, and of a boy. ay ay my liege and of a lovely boy the god of heaven both now and ever bless her tis a girl promises boy hereafter sir your queen desires your visitation and to be acquainted with this stranger tis as like you as cherry is to cherry lovel sir give her a hundred marks all to the queen exit and hundred marks by this light i'll ha more an ordinary groom is for such payment i will have more or scold it out of him said i for this the girl was like to him i will have more or else unsay it and now while it is hot i'll put it to the issue exunct scene two before the council chamber presuvience pages etc attending enter crammer

i hope i am not too late and yet the gentleman that was sent to me from the council prayed me to make great haste all fast what means this ho who waits there sure you know me enter keeper yes my lord but yet i cannot help you why enter dr butts your grace must wait till you be called your grace must wait till you be called for. So. Aside. This is a piece of malice. I am glad I came this way so happily. The king shall understand it presently.

Exit. Aside. Tis but the king's physician, as he passed along, how earnestly he cast his eyes upon me. Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace. For certain this is of purpose laid by some that hate me. God turn their hearts, I never sought their malice, to quench mine honour. They would shame to make me wait else at door, a fellow-counselor, among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their

pleasures must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience. Enter King Henry VIII, and Dr. Butts at a window above. the strangest sight. What's that, buts? I think your highness saw this, many a day. Body of me, where is it? There, my lord. The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury,

who holds his state at door, amongst persuvents, pages, and footboys. Ah, tis he indeed. Is this the honour they do one another? It is well as one above them yet. I thought they had parted so much honesty among them at least good manners. as not thus to suffer a man of his place, and so near our favour, to dance attendance on their

lordship's pleasures, and at the door too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary butts there's knavery. Let him alone, and draw the curtain close. We shall hear more anon. Exunct. Scene 3. The Council Chamber. Enter Chancellor, places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand, a seat being left and void above him as for Cranmer's seat. Suffolk, Norfolk, Surrey, Chamberlain and Gardner seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at lower end as secretary, keeper at the door. Speak to the business, Master Secretary. Why are we met in council? Please, Your Honors, the chief cause concerned his grace of Canterbury.

Has he had knowledge of it? Yes. Who waits there? Without, my noble lords? Yes. My lord archbishop, and has done half an hour to know your pleasures. Let him come in. Your grace may enter now.

Cranmer enters and approaches the council table. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry to sit here at this present, and behold that chair stand empty. But we all are men, in our own nature's frail, and capable of our flesh. Few are angels, out of which frailty and want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little, toward the king first, then is laws, in filling the whole realm by your teaching and your chaplains, for so we are informed,

with new opinions diverse and dangerous, which are heresies, and not reformed, may prove pernicious. Which reformation must be sudden, too, my noble lords. For those that tame wild horses, pace them not in their hands to make them gentle, but stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them till they obey the manage.

If we suffer, out of our easiness and childish pity to one man's honour, this contagious sickness, farewell all physic. And what follows then? Commotions, uproars with a general taint, of the whole state. As of late days our neighbours, the upper Germany can dearly witness, yet freshly pitied in our memories. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress both of my life and office,

I have laboured, and with no little study, that my teaching, and the strong course of my authority might go one way, and safely, and the end was ever to do. well. Nor is there living. I speak it with a single heart, my lords, a man that more detests, more stirs against, both in his private conscience and his place, deface us of a public peace, than I do. Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart with less allegiance in it. Men that make envy and crooked malice nourishment dare bite the best. I too beseech your lordships that in this case of justice my accusers be what they will, may stand forth face to face and freely urge against me.

Nay, my lord, that cannot be. You are a counsellor, and by that virtue no man dare accuse you. My lord, because we have business of more moments, we will be short with you. Tis his highness pleasure, and our consent for better trial of you, from hence you be committed to the tower. Where being but a private man again, you shall know many dare accuse you boldly more than I fear you are provided for. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, you are always my good friend. if your will pass i shall both find your lordship judge and juror you are so merciful i see your end tis my undoing love and meekness lord become a churchman better than ambition when straying souls with modesty again cast none away that i shall clear myself lay all the

weight ye can upon my patience. I make as little doubt as you do conscience in doing daily wrongs. I could say more, but reverence to your calling makes me modest. My lord, my lord, you are a secretary. That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers to men that understand you, words and weakness. my lord of winchester you are a little by your good favour too sharp men so noble however faulty yet should find respect for what they have been tis a cruelty to load a falling man good master's secretary i cry your honour mercy you may worst of all this table say so why my lord do not i know you for a favour of this new sect you're not sound not sound not sound not sound, I say. Would you are half so honest, men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears? I shall remember this bold language. Do. Remember your bold life, too. This is too much. Forbear. For shame, my lords.

I have done. And I. Then thus for you, my lord. It stands agreed, I take it, by all voices that forthwith you be conveyed to the tower a prisoner. There to remain till the king's further pleasure be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords? We are. Is there no other way of mercy, but I must needs to the tower, my lords? What other would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.

Let some of the guard be ready there. Enter guard. For me, must I go like a traitor thither? Receive him and see him safe in the tower. Stay good, my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords, by virtue of that ring, I take my cause out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it to a most noble judge, the king, my master.

This is the king's ring. Tis no counterfeit. Tis the right ring by him. heaven. I told you all when you first put this dangerous stone rolling twould fall upon ourselves. Do you think, my lords, the king will suffer by the little finger of this man to be vexed? Tis now too certain. How much more is his life in value with him? Would I were fairly out on't? My mind gave me in seeking tales and informations against this man whose honesty the devil and his disciples only envy at. Ye blew the fires that burn ye. Now have at ye. Enter king, frowning on them,

takes his seat. Dred, sovereign, how much we are bound to heaven in daily thanks that gave us such a prince, not only good and wise, but most religious, one that in all obedience makes the church the chief aim of his honor, and to strengthen that holy duty out of dear respect, his royal self in judgment comes to hear the cause betwixt her and this great offender. You ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But no, I come not to hear such flattery now, and in my presence, they are too thin and bare to hide offences. To me you cannot reach. You play the spaniel, and think with wagging of your tongue to win me. But whatsoever thou takest me for, I'm sure thou hast a cruel nature, and

are bloody. To Cranmer. Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest, he that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. By all that's holy, he had better starve than but once think this place becomes thee not. May it please your grace? No, sir, it does not please me. I thought I had had men of some understanding, a wisdom of my counsel, but I find none. Was it discretion, Lord, to let this man, this good man, few of you deserve that title. This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy at chamber door, and one as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission

bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye power as he was a counsellor to try him, not as a groom. The sum of ye, I see, more out of malice than integrity would try him to the utmost had ye mean which she shall never have while I live. Thus far, my most dread sovereign, may it like your grace to let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed concerning his imprisonment was rather, if there be faith in men, meant for his trial, and fair purgation to the world, than malice. I'm sure in me. Well, well, my lord, respect him, take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him. If a prince may be beholding to a subject, I am for his love and service, so to him. Make me no more ado but all embrace him. Be friends for shame, my lords. My lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me, that is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism. You must be godfather and answer for her. The greatest monarch now alive may glory in such an honour. How may I deserve it, that I am a poor and humble subject to you? Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You shall have two noble partners with you,

the old Duchess of Norfolk and the Marquist Dorset. Will these please you? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, embrace and love this man. With a true heart and brother love I do it. And let heaven witness how dear I hold this confirmation. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart. The common voice I see is verified of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of cantably a shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.

Come, lords, we trifle time away. I long to have this young one made a Christian. as i have made ye one lords one remain so i grow stronger you more on again agzunt scene four the palace-yard noise and tumult within enter porter and his man you leave your noise alone you rascals do you take the court for paris garden ye root slaves leave your gaping within good master porter i beaunt you rascals do you take the court for paris garden ye root slaves leave your gaping within good master porter i be belong to the larder belong to the gallows and be hanged ye rogue is this a place to roaring fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves and strongens these are but switches to em oh scratch your heads you must be seeing christening's do you look for ale and cakes here you rude rascals pray sir be patient tis as much impossible unless we sweep em from the door with cannons to scatter em as tis is to make him sleep on may-day morning which will never be we may as well push against powell's as stirr em he'll got they in and be hanged alas i know not how gets the tide in as much as one sound cudgel of four foot you see the poor remainder could distribute i make no spare sir you did nothing sir i am not samson nor sir guy nor colbrand to mow em down before me but if i spared any that had a head to hit either young or old he or she cuckold or cuckold maker

let me ne'er hope to see a chine again and that i would not for a cow god saver within do you hear master porter i shall be with you presently good master puppy keep the door closed sirrah What would you have me do? What should you do but knock them down by the dozens? Is this more fields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with a great tool come to court? The women so besieges! Bless me, what a friar fornication is at door. On my Christian conscience, this one christening will be get a thousand.

Here will be father, godfather, and all together. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door. He should be a brazier by his face. Four, oh my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now rain in snows. All that stand about him are under the line. They need no other penance.

That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me. He stands there like a mortar-piece to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink porous, fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in this state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out clubs, when I might see from far some forty trunchioners draw to her succor, which were the hope of the strand, where she

was quartered. They fell on, I made good my place. At length they came to the broomstaff to me. I defied him still, when suddenly a file of boys behind him, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles that I was fain to draw my honor in, and let him win the work. The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. These are the yews that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in limbo-partrum, and there they are like to dance these three days.

besides the running banquet of two beetles that is to come. Enter Chamberlain. Mercy and me, what a multitude are here. They grow still, too, from all parts they are coming, as if we kept a fair here. Where are these porters, these lazy knaves? You have made a fine hand, fellows. There's a trim rabble let in.

Are all these your faithful friends of the suburbs? We shall have great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, when they pass back. the christening. And please, Your Honor, we are but men, and what so many may do, not being torn of pieces, we have done. An army cannot rule em. As I live, if the king blame me for it, I'll lay ye all by the heels and suddenly,

and on your heads clap round fines for neglect. Ye are lazy knaves. And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when ye should do service. Hark, the trumpet sound, there come already from the christening. christening. Go, break among the press and find a way out to let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find a marshal sea shall hold ye play these two months. Make way there for the princess. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

You in the Camlet, get up over a rile. I'll pick you all the piles else. Exunct. Scene five, the palace. Enter trumpets sounding. Then two aldermen, Lord Mayor. Gartor, Cranmer, Norfolk with his Marshal's staff, Suffolk, two noblemen bearing great standing bowls for the christening gifts, then four noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, etc., train born by a lady, then follows

the Marchioness Dorcet, the other godmother and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and garter speaks. endless goodness send prosperous life long and ever happy to the high and mighty princess of england elizabeth flourish enter king henry the eighth and guard kneeling and to your royal grace and the good queen my noble partners and myself thus pray all comfort joy in this most gracious lady heaven heaven ever lay up to make parents happy, may hourly fall upon ye. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop. What is her name? Elizabeth.

Stand up, Lord. King Henry VIII kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing, God protect thee, into whose hand I give thy life. Amen. My noble gossips ye have been too prodigal, I thank ye heartily, so shall you this lady when she had so much English. Let me speak, sir, for heaven now bids me. And the words I utter let none think fluttery,

for they'll find them truth. This royal infant, heaven still move about her, though in her cradle, yet now promises upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, which time shall bring to ripeness. ripeness. She shall be, but few now living can behold that goodness, a pattern to all princes living with her, and all that shall succeed. Sabah was never more covetous of wisdom and fair virtue than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces that mould up such a mighty

peace as this is, with all the virtues that attend the good shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her. Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her. She shall be loved and feared, her own shall bless her. Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, and hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her. In her days every man shall eat in safety under his own vine, what he plants, and sing the merry songs of peace to all his neighbors. God shall be truly known, and those about her, from her, shall read the perfect ways of honour, and by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her, but as when the bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, her ashes new create another air, as great in admiration as herself, So shall she leave her blessedness to one, When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, Who from the sacred ashes of her honour, shall star-like rise, As great in fame as she was, And so stand fixed. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, that were the servants to this, chosen infant shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him. Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name

shall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish, and like a mountain cedar, reach his branches to all the plains about him. Our children's children shall see this, and bless heaven. Thou speakest wonders. She shall be, to the happiness of England, an aged princess. Many days shall see her, and yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more? But she must die. She must, the saints must have her.

yet a virgin a most unspotted lily shall she pass to the ground and all the world shall mourn her o lord archbishop thou hast made me now a man never before this happy child did i get anything this oracle of comfort has so pleased me that when i am in heaven i shall desire to see what this child does and praise my maker i thank you for my ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor, and your good brethren, I am much beholding. I have received much honour by your presence, and ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords. You must all see the Queen, and she must thank ye. She will be sick else. This day, no man think has business at his house, for all shall stay. This little one shall make it holiday. to one this play can never please all that are here. Some come to take their ease and sleep an act or two. But those we fear we have frighted with our trumpets, so tis clear they'll say tis nought.

Others to hear the city abused extremely, and to cry, that's witty, which we have not done neither. That, I fear, all the expected good we're like to hear for this play at this time is only in the merciful construction of good women, for such a one we showed them. If they smile and say twill do, I know within a while all the best men are ours, for tis ill hap, if they hold, when their ladies bid them clap. End of Act 5. End of Henry VIII by William Shakespeare.