As not to know the language I have lived in : A strange tongue makes my cause more strangesuspicious;

Pray, speak in English. Here are some will thank

you,

If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake : Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord

Cardinal,

The willing'st sin I ever yet committed

May be absolved in English.

Wol.

Noble lady,

I am sorry, my integrity should breed

And service to his Majesty and you—
So deep suspicion where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation,

To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;

You have too much, good lady; but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the King and you, and to deliver
Like free and honest men, our just opinions,
And comforts to your cause.

Cam.

Most honoured madam,

My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure

114

KING HENRY VIIL

Both of his truth and him, which was too far,-
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,

His service and his counsel.

Q. Kath. [Aside.]

To betray me.—

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills,
Ye speak like honest men,-pray God, ye prove

so!

But how to make ye suddenly an answer,

In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,—
More near my life, I fear,—with my weak wit,
And to such men of gravity and learning,

In truth, I know not.

I was set at work

Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking
Either for such men, or such business.

For her sake that I have been, for I feel
The last fit of my greatness, good your graces,
Let me have time and counsel for my cause.

Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.

Wol. Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears:

Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Q. Kath.

In England

But little for my profit. Can you think, lords,

That any Englishman dare give me counsel? dainst his highness' plea

Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,—
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth; my friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions,

They that my trust must grow to, live not here:
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,
In mine own country, lords.

Cam.

I would, your grace

Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.

Q. Kath.

How, sir?

Cam. Put your main cause into the King's pro

tection;

He's loving, and most gracious. 'T will be much

Both for your honour better, and your cause:

For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye,

You'll part away disgraced.

Wol.

He tells you rightly.

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both,—

Is this

my ruin.

your

Christian counsel? out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge

That no King can corrupt.

Cam.

Your rage mistakes us

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye! holy men I

thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;

But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye.

Mend them, for shame, my lords.

comfort?

Is this your

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned?
I will not wish ye half my miseries,

I have more charity; but say, I warned ye:

Take heed, for Heaven's sake, take heed, lest at

once

The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing.

ye,

Woe upon

And all such false professors! Would you have

me

If you have any justice, any pity,

If ye be anything but churchmen's habits

Put my sick cause into his hands that hates

me?

Alas, he has banished me his bed already;
His love, too long ago: I am old, my lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience. What can happen
To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse, like this.

Cam.

Your fears are worse.

Q. Kath. Have I lived thus long-let me speak

myself,

Since virtue finds no friends-a wife, a true one?

A woman—I dare say, without vain-glory—

Never yet branded with suspicion ?

Have I with all my full affections

Still met the King? loved him next Heaven } obeyed him?

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers, to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 't is not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure,
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour,-a great patience.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,

To give up willingly that noble title

Your master wed me to: nothing but death

Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol.

'Pray, hear me.

Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English

earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!