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The Life of Henry the Eighth
SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace
[Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys.]
CHAMBERLAIN
Is't possible the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
SANDYS
New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
CHAMBERLAIN
As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
SANDYS
They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,
That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
CHAMBERLAIN
Death! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.
[Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.]
How now!
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
LOVELL
Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
CHAMBERLAIN
What is't for?
LOVELL
The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
CHAMBERLAIN
I'm glad 'tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
LOVELL
They must either,
For so run the conditions, leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,
Short blist'red breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men,
Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it,
They may, "cum privilegio," wear away
The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.
SANDYS
'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
CHAMBERLAIN
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
LOVELL
Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
SANDYS
The devil fiddle 'em! 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 plainsong
And have an hour of hearing; and, by 'r Lady,
Held current music too.
CHAMBERLAIN
Well said, Lord Sandys;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
SANDYS
No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
CHAMBERLAIN
Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going?
LOVELL
To the Cardinal's.
Your lordship is a guest too.
CHAMBERLAIN
O, '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.
LOVELL
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall everywhere.
CHAMBERLAIN
No doubt he's noble;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
SANDYS
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.
CHAMBERLAIN
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.
SANDYS
I am your lordship's.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. A Hall in York Place
[Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford.]
GUILDFORD
Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace
Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates
To fair content and you. None here, he hopes,
In 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.
[Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sandys, and Sir Thomas Lovell.]
O, my lord, you're tardy;
The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.
CHAMBERLAIN
You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.
SANDYS
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 would better please 'em. By my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.
LOVELL
O, that your lordship were but now confessor
To one or two of these!
SANDYS
I would I were;
They should find easy penance.
LOVELL
Faith, how easy?
SANDYS
As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
CHAMBERLAIN
Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this.
His Grace is ent'ring. Nay, you must not freeze;
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather.
My Lord Sandys, you are one will keep 'em waking;
Pray, sit between these ladies.
SANDYS
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.
ANNE
Was he mad, sir?
SANDYS
O, 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.]
CHAMBERLAIN
Well said, my lord.
So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.
SANDYS
For my little cure,
Let me alone.
[Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his state.]
WOLSEY
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.]
SANDYS
Your Grace is noble.
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.
WOLSEY
My Lord Sandys,
I am beholding to you; cheer your neighbours.
Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
SANDYS
The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em
Talk us to silence.
ANNE
You are a merry gamester,
My Lord Sandys.
SANDYS
Yes, if I make my play.
Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing, —
ANNE
You cannot show me.
SANDYS
I told your Grace they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged.]
WOLSEY
What's that?
CHAMBERLAIN
Look out there, some of ye.
[Exit Servant.]
WOLSEY
What warlike voice,
And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you're privileg'd.
[Re-enter Servant.]
CHAMBERLAIN
How now! what is't?
SERVANT
A noble troop of strangers,
For so they seem. They've left their barge and landed,
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.
WOLSEY
Good Lord Chamberlain,
Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;
And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables remov'd.]
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!
[Hautboys. Enter the King, and others, as masquers, habited like shepherds, usher'd by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him.]
A noble company! What are their pleasures?
CHAMBERLAIN
Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd
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 'em.
WOLSEY
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. The King chooses Anne Bullen.]
KING
The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,
Till now I never knew thee!
[Music. Dance.]
WOLSEY
My lord!
CHAMBERLAIN
Your Grace?
WOLSEY
Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em, 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.
CHAMBERLAIN
I will, my lord.
[Whispers the Masquers.]
WOLSEY
What say they?
CHAMBERLAIN
Such a one, they all confess,
There is indeed; which they would have your Grace
Find out, and he will take it.
WOLSEY
Let me see, then.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll make
My royal choice.
KING
Ye 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.
WOLSEY
I am glad
Your Grace is grown so pleasant.
KING
My Lord Chamberlain,
Prithee come hither. What fair lady's that?
CHAMBERLAIN
An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter, —
The Viscount Rochford, – one of her Highness' women.
KING
By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly to take you out
And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen
Let it go round.
WOLSEY
Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I' the privy chamber?
LOVELL
Yes, my lord.
WOLSEY
Your Grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
KING
I fear, too much.
WOLSEY
There's fresher air, my lord,
In the next chamber.
KING
Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,
I must not yet forsake you; let's be merry.
Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt with trumpets.]
ACT II
SCENE I. Westminster. A street
[Enter two Gentlemen at several doors.]
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Whither away so fast?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
O, God save ye!
Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Were you there?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, indeed, was I.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Pray, speak what has happen'd.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
You may guess quickly what.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Is he found guilty?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
I am sorry for't.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
So are a number more.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
But, pray, how pass'd it?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
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
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the Duke desir'd
To have brought viva voce to his face;
At which appear'd against him his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him, with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
That was he
That fed him with his prophecies?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
The same.
All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
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.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
After all this, how did he bear himself?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
When he was brought again to the bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty.
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
I do not think he fears death.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Sure, he does not;
He never was so womanish. The cause
He may a little grieve at.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Certainly
The Cardinal is the end of this.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis likely,
By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
At his return
No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally, whoever the King favours,
The Cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep. This duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy, —
[Enter Buckingham from his arraignment; tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side; accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sandys, and common people.]
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Let's stand close, and behold him.
BUCKINGHAM
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 receiv'd a traitor's judgement,
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;
'T has done, upon the premises, but justice;
But those that sought it I could wish more Christians.
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em;
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men,
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
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 lov'd 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.
LOVELL
I do beseech your Grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
BUCKINGHAM
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven. I forgive all.
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst 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 King's; and, till my soul forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be!
And when old Time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!
LOVELL
To the water side I must conduct your Grace;
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.
VAUX
Prepare there,
The Duke is coming. See the barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.
BUCKINGHAM
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 Bohun.
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it;
And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
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,
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father.
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd 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 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!
[Exeunt Duke and train.]
FIRST GENTLEMAN
O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads
That were the authors.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
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.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Let me have it.
I do not talk much.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
I am confident;
You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the King and Katherine?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now; for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain
The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good Queen, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her. To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis the Cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the Emperor
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
I think you have hit the mark; but is't not cruel
That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
'Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. An ante-chamber in the palace
[Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading this letter:.]
CHAMBERLAIN. "My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by commission and main power, took 'em from me, with this reason: His master would be serv'd before a subject, if not before the King; which stopp'd our mouths, sir." I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them: He will have all, I think.
[Enter to the Lord Chamberlain the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.]
NORFOLK
Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
CHAMBERLAIN
Good day to both your Graces.
SUFFOLK
How is the King employ'd?
CHAMBERLAIN
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
NORFOLK
What's the cause?
CHAMBERLAIN
It seems the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
SUFFOLK
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
NORFOLK
'Tis 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.
SUFFOLK
Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.
NORFOLK
How holily he works in all his business!
And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league
Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew,
He dives into the King's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage.
And out of all these to restore the King,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of her
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the King. And is not this course pious?
CHAMBERLAIN
Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true
These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em,
And every true heart weeps for't. All that dare
Look into these affairs see this main end,
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.
SUFFOLK
And free us from his slavery.
NORFOLK
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance;
Or this imperious man will work us an
From princes into pages. All men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.
SUFFOLK
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, they'are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the Pope.
NORFOLK
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?
CHAMBERLAIN
Excuse me,
The King has sent me otherwhere. Besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
Health to your lordships!
NORFOLK
Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain; Norfolk draws the curtain, and discovers the King reading pensively.]
SUFFOLK
How sad he looks! Sure, he is much afflicted.
KING
Who's there, ha?
NORFOLK
Pray God he be not angry.
KING
Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?
NORFOLK
A gracious king that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
KING
Ye are too bold.
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business.
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
[Enter Wolsey and Campeius, with a commission.]
Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a King. [To Campeius.] You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us and it. [To Wolsey.] My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
WOLSEY
Sir, you cannot.
I would your Grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
KING
[To Norfolk and Suffolk.] We are busy; go.
NORFOLK
[Aside to Suffolk.] This priest has no pride in him?
SUFFOLK
[Aside to Norfolk.] Not to speak of.
I would not be so sick, though, for his place.
But this cannot continue.
NORFOLK
[Aside to Suffolk.] If it do,
I'll venture one have-at-him.
SUFFOLK
[Aside to Norfolk.] I another.
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.]
WOLSEY
Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now? What envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms
Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judgement,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius,
Whom once more I present unto your Highness.
KING
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 wish'd for.
CAMPEIUS
Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' 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 join'd with me their servant
In the unpartial judging of this business.
KING
Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
WOLSEY
I know your Majesty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.
KING
Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary.
I find him a fit fellow.
[Exit Wolsey.]
[Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.]
WOLSEY
[Aside to Gardiner.]
Give me your hand. Much joy and favour to you;
You are the King's now.
GARDINER
[Aside to Wolsey.] But to be commanded
For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
KING
Come hither, Gardiner.
[Walks and whispers.]
CAMPEIUS
My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
In this man's place before him?
WOLSEY
Yes, he was.
CAMPEIUS
Was he not held a learned man?
WOLSEY
Yes, surely.
CAMPEIUS
Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then
Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
WOLSEY
How! of me?
CAMPEIUS
They will not stick to say you envi'd him,
And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him
That he ran mad and died.
WOLSEY
Heav'n'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 needs 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 grip'd by meaner persons.
KING
Deliver this with modesty to the Queen.
[Exit Gardiner.]
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business.
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!
O, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.]
