Queen Katherine

Queen Katherine, to the King
I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.

When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair.

King
It grieves many.
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Crier
Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.

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

Queen Katherine
Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,
And to bestow your pity on me;
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Queen Katherine
Lord Cardinal,
To you I speak.
Wolsey
Your pleasure, madam.

You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility, but your heart
Is crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.

Queen Katherine
Sir,
I am about to weep; but thinking that
We are a queen,
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Queen Katherine
Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.
Sing, and disperse ’em if thou canst. Leave working.
Woman sings 

Orpheus with his lute made trees
And the mountaintops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing.
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung,
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Gentleman
An ’t please your Grace, the two great cardinals
Wait in the presence.
Queen Katherine
Would they speak with me?
Gentleman
They willed me say so, madam.

I do not like their coming, now I think on ’t.
They should be good men, their affairs as righteous.
But all hoods make not monks.
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Campeius
Most honored 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
Both of his truth and him—which was too far—
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.

Alas, I am a woman friendless,
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Campeius
Put your main cause into the King’s protection.
He’s loving and most gracious. ’Twill be much
Both for your honor better and your cause,
For if the trial of the law o’ertake you,
You’ll part away disgraced.
Wolsey
He tells you rightly.
Queen Katherine
You tell me what you wish for both: my ruin.
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Griffith
How does your Grace?
Katherine
O Griffith, sick to death.
My legs like loaden branches bow to th’ earth,
Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair.
 She sits.
So. Now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledst me,
That the great child of honor,
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Griffith
She is asleep. Good wench, let’s sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.  They sit.

Spirits of peace, where are you? Are you all gone,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind you?

 The Vision.

Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six
Personages clad in white robes,
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Katherine
If my sight fail not,
You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capuchius.
Capuchius
Madam, the same. Your servant.
Katherine
O my lord,
The times and titles now are altered strangely
With me since first you knew me. But I pray you,
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