KATHERINE

We thank your highness, and beseech your grace, Forbear such hazard of your royal person, Without such honours is your handmaid pleased, Obediently to yield all love and duty, That may beseem your sacred Majesty. Godamercy Will, thought tell me then, wilt thou not? Faith I am of thy mind Will, I think so too. And much uncharity to wrong the poor? Let me entreat your Grace to pardon him. Welsed Will thou love thy masters credit I know. O my Lord, let me entreat for them. How prove you that my Lord? I am a weak Scholar my Lord, But on conditio ̄ that your Highness, not these reverent Lords, Will take no exceptions at my woman's wit, I am content to hold them Argument: And first with reverence to his Majesty. Pray tell me, why would you make the King believe. His Highness and the people under him, Are tied so st ictly to obey the Pope? So are all Kings; and God himself commands The King to rule, and people to obey. And both to love and honour him: But you that are sworn servants unto Room, How are you faithful S biects to the King, When first you scrue the Pope then after him? 'Tis true, but pray you answer this: Suppose, the King by Proclamation, Commanded you and , To spurn against the Popes authority: Ye know the Scripture binds ye to obey him, But this I think, if that his Grace did so, Your slight obedience all the world should know. Heaven on my forehead write my worst intent, And let your hate against my li e be bent, If ever thought of ill against your majesty, Was harbord here refuse me gracious God, To your face, my ledge, if to your face I speak it. It mani estes no complot, nor no treason, Nor are they loyal that so injure ; What I did speak, was as my woman's wit, To hold out Argument could compass it, My puny scholarship is held too weak To maintain proofs about religion, Alas I did it but to wast the time, K owe ug as then your grace was uvea e and sickly, So to expel part of your pain and griese: And for my good intent they seek my life, Oh God, how am I wronged. God morrow to my reue ent Lords of London and of Winchester, saw ye the King to day? Come sister weel go see his Majesty. Gentlemen set forward, God morrow Lords. Wilt please your Highness fit and rest your self? I my good Lord. Me thinks it well my royal Sovereign, Your Grace, the Emperor, and the Christian kings, Would call a Counsel and p use the books, That Luther writ against the Catholics, And superstitions of the Church of Room: And if they teach a truer way to heaven, Agreeing with the Hebrew Testament, Why should they not be read and followed? Pray tell the King then, what Scripture have ye, To teach religion in and unknown language? Instruct the ignorant to kneel to Saints, By barefoot pilgrimage to visit shrines, For money to release from Purgatory, The vildest villain, thief, or murderer, All this the people must believe you can, Such is the dregs of Rome's religion. Nay be not angry, nor mistake them Lords, What they have said or done, was mildly followed, As by their Articles are evident. I'll go and fetch them to your Majesty, And pray your Highness view them graciously. Leave us alone I pray ye. Never so ill deer Prince, for now I fear, Even as a wretched caitiff killed with care, I am accused of treason, and the king Is now in counsel to dispose of me, I know his frown is death, and I shall die. I know not. One of my Gentlemen passing by the presence, Took up this bill of accusations, Wherein twe we Articles are drawn against me, It seems my false ac users lost it there, Here they accuse me of conspiracy, That I with Cranmer, Lutimer and Ridley, Do seek to raise rebellion in the state, Altar religion, and bring Luther in, And to new government enforce the king, Never nor cuer had I one such thought, As I have hope in him my soul hath bought. Oh plead for me, tell him my soul is clear, Never did thought of treason harbour here, As I intended to his sacred life, So be it to my soul or joy or greese. Oh I shall never come to speak with him, The Lion in his rage is not to stern, As Royal Herry in his wrathful spleen, And they that have accused me to his grace, Will work such means I near shall see his face, Wretched Queen Katherin, would thou hadst been Kate Parre still, and not great England's Queen, Wish me good Compton woe and misery, This giddy flattering world I hate and cough, Ere long I know Queen Katherins head must off. Came you from the King? I will not on my faith, good Comptton speak, That with thy sad repor S my heart may break. Else should I wrongfully accuse my self, Of my deer Lord I do beseech your highness To satisfy your wronged Queen in this, Upon what ground grows this suspicion, Or who thus wrongfully accuseth me. Of cursed treason gainst your majesty. O Comptton betwixt thy love and my sage fear, I feel ten thousand sad vexations here, Lead on I pray, I'll be advised by thee, The King is angry and the Queen must die. A traitor, Oh you all seeing powers, Here witness to my Lord my loyalty A traitor. Oh then you are too merciful, If I have treason in me, why rip you not My ugly heart out with your weapons point, Oh my good Lord, If it have traitors blood, It will be black, deformed, and tenibrous, If not, from it will spring a scarlet fountain, And spit defiance in their periurde throats That have accused me to your majesty, Making my state thus full of misery. What should I say, that you might credit me, If I am false, heaven strike me suddenly. When I have thought of ill against your state, Let me be made the vildest reprobate. I shall be ever thankful to his highness. And pray for him and for your majesty, Oh my deer Lord, respect the reverend Bishops. Bonner and Gardener loves your Majesty. Oh God, are these mine enemies? I have forgotten it, and do still entreat Then humble pardons at your gracious et. To him Will. Godamarcy for that Will Theres two angels for that e: I my Lord I am glad I know it. Come on , answer to this, What could I take, my head does ache, what good? Oh I beseech your highness on my knees, Re to the do e of their imprisonment. Vex not my Lord it will distemper you. I am not repulsed at first William, sir, Women and their wills, are dangerous ills, as suppose. The Bishops it seems my Lord would speak with you.