WOLSEY.
Your rage mistakes us.
QUEEN KATHERINE.
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: is this your comfort
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
With the same force of language, and impetuous yet dignified feeling, she asserts her own conjugal truth and merit, and insists upon her rights.
Have I liv'd 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—lov'd him next heaven, obey'd him
Been out of fondness superstitious to him—
Almost forgot my prayers to content him,
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords, &c.
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.
And this burst of unwonted passion is immediately followed by the natural reaction; it subsides into tears, dejection, and a mournful self-compassion.
Would I had never trod this English ground,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it.
What will become of me now, wretched lady?
I am the most unhappy woman living.
Alas! poor wenches! where are now your fortunes?
[To her women
Shipwrecked upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me!
Almost no grave allowed me! Like the lily that once
Was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head and perish.
Dr. Johnson observes on this scene, that all Katherine's distresses could not save her from a quibble on the word cardinal.