Original Text |
Translated Text |
| Source: Folger Shakespeare Library |
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Enter Katherine Dowager, sick, led between Griffith, her
gentleman usher, and Patience, her woman. 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. 5
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledst me,
That the great child of honor, Cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead? GRIFFITH Yes, madam, but I think your Grace,
Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to ’t. 10 | Over at Katherine's pad, her usher Griffith tells her about the death of
Cardinal Wolsey. Once he was arrested, he got sick and died. |
KATHERINE
Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died.
If well, he stepped before me happily
For my example. GRIFFITH Well, the voice goes, madam;
For after the stout Earl Northumberland 15
Arrested him at York and brought him forward,
As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly and grew so ill
He could not sit his mule. KATHERINE Alas, poor man! 20 GRIFFITH
At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend abbot
With all his convent honorably received him;
To whom he gave these words: “O Father Abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 25
Is come to lay his weary bones among you.
Give him a little earth, for charity.”
So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself 30
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honors to the world again,
His blessèd part to heaven, and slept in peace. KATHERINE
So may he rest. His faults lie gently on him! 35
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that by suggestion
Tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair play. 40
His own opinion was his law. I’ th’ presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.
His promises were, as he then was, mighty, 45
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example. | Katherine is not one to hold a grudge, so she says she'll speak kindly
of him, but she does note that his ambition caused major problems for
England. Plus, he was just a bad example of a clergyman: he lied and
took bribes, and that's just not right for a religious man to do. |
GRIFFITH Noble madam,
Men’s evil manners live in brass; their virtues 50
We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me speak his good now? KATHERINE Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else. GRIFFITH This cardinal, 55
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashioned to much honor. From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one:
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, 60
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely. Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 65
Ipswich and Oxford, one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 70
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him,
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little.
And, to add greater honors to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God. 75 | Griffith doesn't agree. He thinks Wolsey was a good man who came from a humble background but grew into a scholar. Sure, he made some mistakes, but who hasn't? Griffith also reminds Katherine that when Wolsey died, he was a God-fearing man. |
KATHERINE
After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honor from corruption
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, 80
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honor. Peace be with him!—
Patience, be near me still, and set me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee.—Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note 85
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.
Sad and solemn music. GRIFFITH
She is asleep. Good wench, let’s sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. They sit. | Griffith's little speech moves Katherine. She decides that when she dies, she wants Griffith to eulogize her because he talks so well. Katherine asks Griffith to get her musicians to play for her while she rests. Once she's asleep, Griffith, too, sits down patiently. |
The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six
Personages clad in white robes, wearing on their
heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their
faces, branches of bays or palm in their hands. They
first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain
changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her
head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies.
Then the two that held the garland deliver the same
to the other next two, who observe the same order in
their changes and holding the garland over her head;
which done, they deliver the same garland to the last
two, who likewise observe the same order. At which,
as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep
signs of rejoicing and holdeth up her hands to
heaven; and so, in their dancing, vanish, carrying
the garland with them. The music continues. | That's when the nightmare begins. No, really: Katherine sees six people in white robes and golden masks carrying branches. They dance and curtsy to her, and then they give her a garland. Then they dance away. Wait, what? |
KATHERINE, waking
Spirits of peace, where are you? Are you all gone, 90
And leave me here in wretchedness behind you? GRIFFITH
Madam, we are here. KATHERINE It is not you I call for.
Saw you none enter since I slept? GRIFFITH None, madam. 95 KATHERINE
No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promised me eternal happiness
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel 100
I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly. | Katherine wakes up and is confused. She wants to understand what she saw, so she tells her dream to her servants. |
GRIFFITH
I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy. KATHERINE Bid the music leave.
They are harsh and heavy to me. Music ceases. 105 PATIENCE, aside to Griffith Do you note
How much her Grace is altered on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes. GRIFFITH, aside to Patience
She is going, wench. Pray, pray. 110 PATIENCE Heaven comfort her! | Griffith says he's happy Katherine is seeing such good dreams. Katherine orders the music to stop and questions what she saw. Then Griffith tells another servant named Patience that seeing such wild apparitions is a bad sign. Katherine must not have long to live. |
Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER, to Katherine
An ’t like your Grace— KATHERINE You are a saucy fellow.
Deserve we no more reverence? GRIFFITH, to Messenger You are to blame, 115
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behavior. Go to. Kneel. MESSENGER, kneeling
I humbly do entreat your Highness’ pardon.
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman sent from the King to see you. 120 KATHERINE
Admit him entrance, Griffith. Messenger rises. But this fellow
Let me ne’er see again. Messenger exits. Enter Lord Capuchius. If my sight fail not,
You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, 125
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, 130
What is your pleasure with me? CAPUCHIUS Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your Grace; the next,
The King’s request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me 135
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort. | Just then, a messenger brings news of Capuchius's arrival. He's an ambassador from Spain, and he asks after Katherine's health for her dad. Katherine reports that she's weak but comforted by prayers. Then she remembers that she wrote a letter to Henry, and she asks Capuchius to deliver it to him. |
KATHERINE
O, my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
’Tis like a pardon after execution.
That gentle physic given in time had cured me. 140
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
How does his Highness? CAPUCHIUS Madam, in good health. KATHERINE
So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name 145
Banished the kingdom.—Patience, is that letter
I caused you write yet sent away? PATIENCE No, madam. She presents a paper to Katherine, who gives
it to Capuchius. KATHERINE
Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the King— 150 CAPUCHIUS Most willing, madam. KATHERINE
In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter—
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!—
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding— 155
She is young and of a noble, modest nature;
I hope she will deserve well—and a little
To love her for her mother’s sake that loved him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is that his noble Grace would have some pity 160
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have followed both my fortunes faithfully,
Of which there is not one, I dare avow—
And now I should not lie—but will deserve,
For virtue and true beauty of the soul, 165
For honesty and decent carriage,
A right good husband. Let him be a noble;
And sure those men are happy that shall have ’em.
The last is for my men—they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw ’em from me— 170
That they may have their wages duly paid ’em,
And something over to remember me by.
If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents. And, good my lord, 175
By that you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people’s friend, and urge the King
To do me this last right. | When Capuchius agrees, Katherine tells us what the letter says: she
wants Henry to care for their daughter and her servants, even though he
has remarried. |
CAPUCHIUS By heaven, I will, 180
Or let me lose the fashion of a man! KATHERINE
I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highness.
Say his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world. Tell him in death I blessed him, 185
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
My lord.—Griffith, farewell.—Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be used with honor. Strew me over 190
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me,
Then lay me forth. Although unqueened, yet like
A queen and daughter to a king inter me.
I can no more. 195 They exit, leading Katherine. | Katherine also mentions that she'll die soon and won't be of any trouble
to the king. Katherine asks Capuchius to remind Henry how humble she's
been. Then she gets ready for bed. |