Henry VIII, William Shakespeare [good story books to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Henry VIII, William Shakespeare [good story books to read .TXT] 📗». Author William Shakespeare
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed. 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.
’Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let’s think in private more. Exeunt.
An ante-chamber in the palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. Chamberlain“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 cardinal’s, by commission and main power, took ’em from me; with this reason: His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir.”
I fear he will indeed: well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
’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.
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?
Heaven keep me from such counsel! ’Tis most true
These news are every where; 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.
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men’s honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion’d
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, they’re breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To 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 otherwhere: besides,
You’ll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.
Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?
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.
Ye are too bold:
Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
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.
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
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.
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 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 judgment,
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.
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.
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.
Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?
I know your majesty has always
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