SCENE II. An ante-chamber in the palace.

Enter 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 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.

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 employed?

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 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, 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 all From princes into pages. All men’s honours Lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned 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’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.

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 , and the King draws the curtain and sits 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. [A side 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 wished 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 joined 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 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.

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.

Enter 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 raised me.

KING. Come hither, Gardiner.

[ The King and Gardiner walk and whisper. ]

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 envied him And fearing he would rise—he was so virtuous— Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved 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 griped by meaner persons.

KING. Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.

[ Exit Gardiner . ]

The most convenient place that I can think of For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars. There ye shall meet about this weighty business. My Wolsey, see it furnished. 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. ]