DRAMATIS PERSON Æ.

KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.

CARDINAL WOLSEY.

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS.

CAPUCIUS, ambassador from the Emperor Charles V.

CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.

DUKE OF Norfolk.

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
DUKE OF SUFFOLK.

EARL OF SURREY.
LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

LORD CHANCELLOR.

GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester.

BISHOP OF LINCOLN.

LORD ABERGAVENNY.
LORD SANDS.

SIR HENRY GUILDFORD.
SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
SIR ANTHONY DENNY.
SIR NICHOLAS Vaux.
Secretaries to Wolsey.

CROMWELL, servant to Wolsey.

GRIFFITH, gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine.

QUEEN KATHARINE, wife to King Henry, afterwards divorced.
ANNE BULLEN, her maid of honour, afterwards queen.

An old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen.

PATIENCE, woman to Queen Katharine.

Lords and Ladies in the dumb shows; Women attending upon the Queen, Scribes, Officers, Guards, and Attendants.

Spirits.

SCENE.-Chiefly in LONDON and WESTMINSTER; once at KIMBOLTON.

KING HENRY VIII.

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 wanton play,

A noise of targets, or to see a fellow

In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,

Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know,

To rank our chosen truth with such a show

As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting

Our own brains and the opinion that we bring

To make 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 hearers 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 follow'd 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 I.

SCENE I.-London. An Antechamber in the Palace.

Enter on one side the DUKE OF NORFOLK; on the other, the DUKE

OF BUCKINGHAM and the LORD ABERGAVENNY.

BUCKINGHAM. Good morrow,

ye done,

Since last we saw in France ?

Nor.

and well met. How have

I thank your grace,

Healthful, and ever since a fresh admirer

Of what I saw there.

Buck.

An untimely ague

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when

Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,

Met in the vale of Andren.

Nor.

'Twixt Guynes and Arde:

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 thron'd ones could have weigh'd

Such a compounded one?

Buck.

All the whole time

Then you lost

I was my chamber's prisoner.

Nor.

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 wonders its. To-day, the French,

All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,

Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they

Made Britain India: every man that stood

Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were

As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too,

Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear

The pride upon them, that their very labour

Was to them as a painting: now this masque

Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night

Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,

Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,

As presence did present them; him in eye,

Still him in praise; and being present both,

'Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner

Durst wag his tongue in censure.

When these suns-

For so they phrase 'em-by their heralds challeng'd

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 believ'd.

Buck.

O, you go far.

Nor. As I belong to worship and affect

In honour honesty, the tract of everything

Would by a good discourser lose some life

Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;

To the disposing of it nought rebell'd;

Order gave each thing view; the office did

Distinctly his full function.

Buck.

Who did guide,

I mean, who set the body and the limbs

Of this great sport together, as you guess?

Nor. One, certes, that promises no element

In such a business.

Buck.

I pray you, who, my lord?

Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion

Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

Buck. 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 rays o' the beneficial sun,

And keep it from the earth.

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
To eminent assistants; 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.

Aber.

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

whence has he that?

70

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,

Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.

Buck.

Why the devil,

Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,

Without the privity o' 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 great a charge as little honour

He meant to lay upon: and his own letter,

The honourable board of council out,

Must fetch him in he papers.

I do know

Aber.

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates that never
They shall abound as formerly.

Buck.

O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em

For this great journey. What did this vanity

But minister communication of

A most poor issue?

Nor.

Grievingly I think,

The peace between the French and us not values

The cost that did conclude it.

Buck.
Every man,

After the hideous storm that follow'd, was

A thing inspir'd, and not consulting broke
Into a general prophecy: That this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudden breach on 't.

Nor.

Which is budded out;

For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd

Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.

The ambassador is silenc'd?

Aber.

Nor.

Is it therefore

Marry, is 't.

Aber. A proper title of a peace, and purchas'd

At a superfluous rate!

Buck.

Our reverend cardinal carried.

Nor.

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