His service and his counsel. [Aside. Q. Kath. To betray me. In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, 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, Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, 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 protection; He's loving, and most gracious; 'twill be much Wol. He tells you rightly. Q. Kath. Ye tell me what you wish for both, my ruin : Is this your christian counsel? out upon ye! Cam. Your rage mistakes us. Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd? I will not wish ye half my miseries, I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye; upon ye. Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction; You turn the good we offer into envy. Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity; If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) Is only my obedience. What can happen To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies Cam. Your fears are worse. Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long-(let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends,)—a wife, a true one? Never yet branded with suspicion ? Have I with all my full affections Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd him? 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! Ye have angel's faces, but heaven knows your hearts. I am the most unhappy woman living.— [To her Women. Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me, Wol. If your grace Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places, The way of our profession is against it; We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. For goodness' sake, consider what you do; Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits, I know, you have a gentle, noble temper, A soul as even as a calm; Pray, think us Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants. Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you; To use our utmost studies in your service. Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray, forgive me, If I have us'd myself unmannerly; You know, I am a woman, lacking wit To make a seemly answer to such persons. He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers, That little thought, when she set footing here, SCENE II.-Ante-chamber to the King's Apartment. Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, the Duke of SUFFOLK, the Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints, Sur. I am joyful To meet the least occasion, that may give me Suf. Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures: |