Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,

As from a blushing handmaid to his highness,

Whose health and royalty I pray for.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Lady,

I shall not fail t’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. (To Anne) I’ll to the King

And say I spoke with you;

ANNE My honoured lord.

Exit the Lord Chamberlain

OLD LADY Why, this it is—see, see!

I have been begging sixteen years in court,

Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could

Come pat betwixt too early and too late

For any suit of pounds; and you—O, fate!—

A very fresh fish here—fie, fie upon

This compelled fortune!—have your mouth filled up

Before you open it.

ANNE

This is strange to me.

OLD LADY

How tastes 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?

ANNE

Come, you are pleasant.

OLD LADY

With your theme I could

O’ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke?

A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect?

No other obligation? By my life,

That promises more thousands. Honour’s train

Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time

I know your back will bear a duchess. Say,

Are you not stronger than you were?

ANNE

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.

OLD LADY

What do you think me—

Exeunt

2.4 Trumpets: sennet. Then cornetts. Enter two vergers with short silver wands; next them two Scribes in the habit of doctors; after them the Archbishop of Canterbury alone; after him the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a gentleman bearing both the purse containing 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 serjeant-at-arms bearing a silver mace; then two gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius; then two noblemen with the sword and mace. The King ⌈ascends⌉ to his seat under the cloth of state; the two cardinals sit under him as judges; the Queen, attended by Griffith her gentleman usher, takes place some distance from the King; the Bishops place themselves on each side the court in the 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

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Whilst our commission from Rome is read

Let silence be commanded.

KING HENRY

What’s the need?

It hath already publicly been read,

And on all sides th’authority allowed.

You may then spare that time.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Be’t so. Proceed.

SCRIBE (to the Crier)

Say, ‘Henry, King of England, come into the court’.

CRIER

Henry, King of England, come into the court.

KING HENRY Here.

SCRIBE (to the Crier)

Say, ‘Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court’.

CRIER

Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court.

The Queen makes no answer, but rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet. Then she speaks

QUEEN KATHERINE

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, 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 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, call 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 honour aught,

My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty

Against your sacred person, in God’s name

Turn me away, and let the foul‘st contempt

Shut door upon me, and so give me up

To the sharp’st kind of justice. Please you, sir,

The King your father was reputed for

A prince most prudent, of an excellent

And unmatched wit and judgement. Ferdinand

My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one