QUEEN KATHERINE.
How, sir?
CAMPEIUS.
Put your main cause into the King’s protection.
He’s loving and most gracious. ’Twill 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.
WOLSEY.
He tells you rightly.
QUEEN KATHERINE.
Ye tell me what ye wish for both: my ruin.
Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye!
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge
That no king can corrupt.
CAMPEIUS.
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 ’em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort,
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.
WOLSEY.
Madam, this is a mere distraction.
You turn the good we offer into envy.
QUEEN KATHERINE.
Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye
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, ’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.
CAMPEIUS.
Your fears are worse.
QUEEN KATHERINE.
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 vainglory,
Never yet branded with suspicion—
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the King, loved him next heav’n, obeyed him,
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him,
Almost forgot my prayers to content him,
And am I thus rewarded? ’Tis 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.