Henry VIII or All is True – “Be to yourself as you would to your friend.”

Henry VIII or All is True – “Be to yourself as you would to your friend.”

‘Henry VIII’ was written and performed in 1613 and is one of the few Shakespeare plays that we are pretty sure of the year it was written and performed due to a number of a events. But I will come to those events later. Let’s first go back to the 1612 and look at the context in which Shakespeare collaborated on this play with John Fletcher.

After handing over the mantle of House Playwright of the King’s Men over to John Fletcher around 1611, Shakespeare had progressively split his time between London and Stratford upon Avon. From around 1611, his year had started to fall into a routine. He would normally spend his Christmas and New Year in Stratford upon Avon with his wife Ann and would probably have his daughter Susanna and her husband John Hall around and enjoyed the company of his granddaughter Elizabeth. Then Shakespeare would return in January to help with the end of the seven month winter season of plays at the Blackfriars Theatre. The Blackfriars Theatre (really the second Blackfriars Theatre) was a 1,000 seater indoor theatre built in the reconstructed frater or dining room of the Blackfriars Dominican priory. With an entry of six pence for a cheap seat, ten pence for other audience seats (and twenty pence for a seat on stage), Blackfriars attracted a different clientele from the Globe and other theatres over in Shoreditch. This meant that Shakespeare himself could rake in about £8-£13 for a single performance at the Blackfriars Theatre. For the 60 to 100 performances done over the seven months of the winter season of 1612 (October 1611- March 1612), Shakespeare probably got somewhere from £300-£900. This was huge sum for the winter months. On top of this Shakespeare would have got rental income from his properties in London and Stratford upon Avon along with income from his grain storage outside Stratford. Around this time in 1612 also, Shakespeare started negotiations to buy part of the Blackfriars Priory so he could have a room near the theatre and also rent out a room or two on the side. This arrangement was not finalized until 1613.

Shakespeare probably made a trip back to Stratford sometime in January or February of 1612, but he was certainly back in London by the beginning of March 1612 when he appeared as a witness in the marriage settlement court case of Bellott vs Mountjoy which involved Mountjoy’s daughter Mary. 

A pretty penny or two would also have been made by Shakespeare through the unprecedented 22 'royal' performances that the King’s Men did from October 1611 to April 1612 at the King’s court and palace. This season included plays such as ‘The Winter’s Tale’ and ‘The Tempest’. Shakespeare probably made about £20 for each performance at court, so from court performances this meant Shakespeare made about £250-400 for the 1611-1612 season.

Then in April or May of 1612, the Globe season opened with a new play ‘Cardenio’ which Shakespeare had written with John Fletcher. This was a success and along with probable performances of ‘The Tempest’, 'The Winter's Tale', ‘Cymbeline’ and ‘Coriolanus’. The Globe had a capacity of 3000 people (although most performances probably had 1,000 to 2,000 people except for premieres like that of ‘Cardenio’ in 1612) and with a one penny entrance fee for the cheap seats, two pennies for the gallery seats, Shakespeare probably made £4-£6 a performance and about £400-£900 for the Globe summer season.

In 1612, Shakespeare would not only be watching the actors of the King’s Men for their performances in ‘Cardenio’ but he would have been thinking of potential next project for the 1613 season. John Heminges had started to develop a stutter so Shakespeare would have known his days in lead roles were numbered. John Lowin would have caught Shakespeare’s eye as a principle actor, along with Robert Gough. Richard Burbage still wooed the audiences as he proved in his portrayal of three roles in ‘Cardenio’ including the role of the Captain. Henry Codell was dependable too as were William Ostler, Alexander Cooke, John Underwood, Nicholas Tooley and William Ecclestone. The boy player Richard Robinson (who was reaching the end of his boy player days) probably was seen by Shakespeare as being able to either play complex older female roles or a young male characters.

When Shakespeare and Fletcher sat down in September of 1612 to think about a new play for the 1613 season, the concept of a play based on the life of Henry VIII probably raised its head again. This project had probably been thought about and discarded a number of times over the years by Shakespeare and at each point the royal subject matter and more specifically the fact that Henry VIII was the father of Queen Elizabeth I (and Queen Elizabeth I was a cousin to Mary Queen of Scots who was James I of England’s mother) made the subject matter too contentious. But Shakespeare probably thought that the histrionic nature of some of the masque balls and plays at court meant that this is a project that had finally reached its time. He may have even seen masques portraying King Henry VIII and Elizabeth I without repercussions. So Shakespeare went back to re-read and consult Holinshed's ‘Chronicles’ and decided that a history play that spanned about 20 years of Henry VIII’s reign was probably timely. He would avoid the trial and beheading of Anne Boleyn but he decided that plenty of less sensitive political intrigue (like the charges of treason against the Duke of Buckingham) could be included.

When William Shakespeare came back from Stratford in early 1613, he probably had a plot outline and a number of speeches drafted. When Shakespeare and John Fletcher met again in March, they would both start working in earnest throughout March and April of 1613 to complete a draft of ‘The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight’. Sometime in May, the last salt was added to the pages of the 'King Henry' master script and copy writers would have set to copying out the pages they were designated (no one copy writer was normally given more than a dozen scenes or two or three character parts to write out for fear of theft). At the beginning of June 1613, the actors were given their parts and worked their way through the play. On Friday 28^th, ‘Henry VIII’ probably premiered to audiences to a rousing reception with its grand pageantry, well-known characters and even a live canon which was used in the performance.

As the sun rose on the hexagonal shadow of the Globe on Saturday June 29^th, ‘Henry VIII’ was to have its most memorable performance and its last at the original Globe (although a performance would take place of the play on June 29^th 1628 in the new rebuilt Globe Theatre). From an hour or two after sunrise at 5am, stalls of all sorts would have started to set up outside the Globe and beside where the punts crossed the river to arrive on the south bank of the Thames. Around 9am the red flag would have been raised above the towers of the Globe Theatre to tell people that a History play was to be performed later that day and soon after, boys would have been sent out with flyers telling audiences that today’s play would indeed be another performance of ‘The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight’. Around 12 noon, when they heard the church bells chime from Southwark Cathedral, the actors, musicians and stage helpers would wander over to the theatre and start climbing the stairs to the third storey of the tiring house where the dressing rooms, costume store and props room were housed. John Lowin, Richard Burbage and Robert Gough probably arrived latest at about 2pm after drinking most of the night celebrating John Lowin’s triumph as Henry VIII the previous day. They would check the sundial near the back entrance and because it was a sunny day, they would have a fair idea that they had an hour to go until their performance. Around this time the groundlings would have started to drift into the theatre, each dropping their penny in the box as they moved into the Globe Theatre. A stage hand boy would check the sundial one more time just after this before climbing the stairs to start to get the actors down ready for the play’s opening. A final visit was probably made up the stairs to get Richard Burbage who probably started the play with his Prologue speech. Little did they all know that about 15-25 minutes into this performance, at either the beginning of Act I Scene ii (when John Lowin entered as Henry VIII for the first time in this performance) or during the masque scene at Cardinal Wolsey's house in Act 1 Scene iv when King Henry VIII arrives, that the canon set off to herald his arrival as King Henry VIII, would set fire to the thatch roof and send them all running for their lives as the Globe Theatre, built in 1599 and the centrepiece for over 1000 performances of some 120 plays, would burn to the ground.

‘Henry VIII’ starts off with a Prologue filled with descriptive pageantry which sets the scene for this much anticipated play about a king whose fame and life was still talked about in stories people heard from their fathers, mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers. The Prologue promises the audience tears, hope, a tale worth a shilling (even though it warns that there is very little in the way of bawdy humour) and a show with great historical figures shown as they were in real life:

“I come no more to make you laugh: things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

The subject will deserve it. Such as give

Their money out of hope they may believe,

May here find truth too. Those that come to see

Only a show or two, and so agree

The play may pass, if they be still and willing,

I'll undertake may see away their shilling

Richly in two short hours. Only they

That come to hear a merry bawdy play,

A noise of targets, or to see a fellow

In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,

Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know,

To rank our chosen truth with such a show

As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting

Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,

To make that only true we now intend,

Will leave us never an understanding friend.

Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see

The very persons of our noble story

As they were living; think you see them great,

And follow'd with the general throng and sweat

Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see

How soon this mightiness meets misery:

And, if you can be merry then, I'll say

A man may weep upon his wedding-day.”

The action starts with Norfolk, Buckingham, and Lord Abergavenny meeting for the first time since they accompanied Henry VIII to meet the King of France in June 1520 on the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Buckingham says he did not see much in France because he was sick and in bed in his tent. Norfolk says he saw the whole spectacle and when Buckingham asks who organized the meeting and ceremony, Norfolk tells him it was Cardinal Wolsey and Buckingham releases a tirade against Wolsey:

“The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed

From his ambitious finger. What had he

To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder

That such a keech can with his very bulk

Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun

And keep it from the earth. “

While Norfolk stands up for Wolsey, Abergavenny agrees with Buckingham and emphasizes that Wolsey is too filled with pride. Buckingham says that those who spent the most to broker this peace have received the least in return. Norfolk agrees saying:

“Grievingly I think,

The peace between the French and us not values

The cost that did conclude it.”

Norfolk tells Buckingham to be cautious because Cardinal Wolsey wields a lot of power and is known as a vengeful man.

Cardinal Wolsey then enters surrounded by secretaries and guards and looks at Buckingham, and asks his secretary where surveror’s testimony against Buckingham has arrived. Before Wolsey leaves he says that hopefully this testimony will lessen the arrogance of Buckingham. Upon Wolsey’s exit, Buckingham reveals that he thinks Wolsey is working against him and spreading rumours to the king himself. Norfolk is able to calm Buckingham. He does however reveal to Norfolk what he wants to say to the king about Wolsey:

“I'll to the king;

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down

This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim

There's difference in no persons…

I am thankful to you; and I'll go along

By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,

Whom from the flow of gall I name not but

From sincere motions, by intelligence,

And proofs as clear as founts in July when

We see each grain of gravel, I do know

To be corrupt and treasonous…

To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong

As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,

Or wolf, or both,--for he is equal ravenous

As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief

As able to perform't; his mind and place

Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally--

Only to show his pomp as well in France

As here at home, suggests the king our master

To this last costly treaty, the interview,

That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass

Did break i' the rinsing…

This cunning cardinal

The articles o' the combination drew

As himself pleased; and they were ratified

As he cried 'Thus let be': to as much end

As give a crutch to the dead: but our count-cardinal

Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,

Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,--

Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy

To the old dam, treason,--Charles the emperor,

Under pretence to see the queen his aunt--

For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came

To whisper Wolsey,--here makes visitation:

His fears were, that the interview betwixt

England and France might, through their amity,

Breed him some prejudice; for from this league

Peep'd harms that menaced him: he privily

Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,--

Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor

Paid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted

Ere it was ask'd; but when the way was made,

And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,

That he would please to alter the king's course,

And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,

As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal

Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,

And for his own advantage.”

Norfolk says that thinks that Buckingham might be wrong in his accusations against Wolsey but Buckingham insists on the truth in his accusations against Wolsey.

Then Brandon, with a sergeant-at-arms and guards arrives to arrest Buckingham and others and take them into custody. Buckingham and Abergavenny submit. They are taken to the tower.

In the next scene, King Henry VIII enters, with Cardinal Wolsey and Sir Thomas Lovel and as he takes his seat on the throne, he expresses thanks to Wolsey for discovering Buckingham’s plot against the throne. Queen Katharine then comes in accompanied by Norfolk and Suffolk and she kneels before her husband to talk to him about the new taxes which Wolsey has implemented on King Henry VIII’s behalf:

“Thank your majesty.

That you would love yourself, and in that love

Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor

The dignity of your office, is the point

Of my petition…

I am solicited, not by a few,

And those of true condition, that your subjects

Are in great grievance: there have been commissions

Sent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart

Of all their loyalties: wherein, although,

My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches

Most bitterly on you, as putter on

Of these exactions, yet the king our master--

Whose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he

escapes not

Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks

The sides of loyalty, and almost appears

In loud rebellion.”

It is explained to King Henry VIII that the taxes were implemented to pay for the English campaigns in France. The King asks for the taxes to be dropped and is willing to hear grievances against the taxes:

“It grieves many:

The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker;

To nature none more bound; his training such,

That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,

And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,

When these so noble benefits shall prove

Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,

They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly

Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,

Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,

Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find

His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,

Hath into monstrous habits put the graces

That once were his, and is become as black

As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear--

This was his gentleman in trust--of him

Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount

The fore-recited practises; whereof

We cannot feel too little, hear too much.”

Then Buckingham's Surveyor enters and when Wolsey asks the Surveyor to tell all that he has heard Buckingham say about the king. The Surveyor says that he heard Buckingham state that he wanted the crown for himself (since a member of the clergy had claimed that Buckingham was legitimately in line for the throne) if King Henry VIII could not produce a male heir. Queen Katharine points out the Surveyor's had reason to hate Buckingham. King Henry VIII commands the Surveyor to continue anyway. The Surveyor says that Buckingham wanted to also kill Wolsey and Lovell if and when the king died. King Henry VIII declares Buckingham a traitor through and through and asks for Buckingham to be put on trial.

In Scene Three, Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands are discussing the strangeness of many of the lords of England since the King’s trip to France. They make fun of the manners and clothes of these lords. Then Lovell enters and agrees with them and suggests ways that they can have the English lords give up French ways.

Then we switch the scene to a hall where Guildford welcomes guests to York Place. Then Lord Chamberlain, Lovell, and Sands arrive. Sands sits next to Anne Bullen and flirts with her and kisses her. Wolsey enters and canon fire is heard. French shepherds arrive (they are in fact King Henry VIII and his men disguised as shepherds). Wolsey invites them in. The shepherds dance with the ladies and Henry specifically dances with Anne Bullen and becomes enamored with her. The king is unmasked and asks about Anne 's disguise. He kisses her and says that he will not forget her as he drinks to the ladies and requests that they all dance once more and talks to and about Anne:

“By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,

I were unmannerly, to take you out,

And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!

Let it go round.

… Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,

I must not yet forsake you: let's be merry:

Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths

To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure

To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream

Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.”

Henry VIII Act Two – “Our content is our best possession.”

Act Two of ‘Henry VIII’ starts in the streets of London where two gentlemen talk about the trial of Buckingham. The First Gentleman recounts the trial which he saw where Buckingham was found guilty:

“I'll tell you in a little. The great duke

Came to the bar; where to his accusations

He pleaded still not guilty and alleged

Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

The king's attorney on the contrary

Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions

Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired

To have brought viva voce to his face:

At which appear'd against him his surveyor;

Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,

Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,

Hopkins, that made this mischief…

All these accused him strongly; which he fain

Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:

And so his peers, upon this evidence,

Have found him guilty of high treason. Much

He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all

Was either pitied in him or forgotten…

When he was brought again to the bar, to hear

His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd

With such an agony, he sweat extremely,

And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:

But he fell to himself again, and sweetly

In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.”

The gentlemen both see that Cardinal Wolsey is responsible for Buckingham’s fall from grace and they see Wolsey favouring some people over others. When Buckingham is brought in, the gentlemen try to listen to what Buckingham has to say. Buckingham gives a speech where he says that he has been condemned by a traitor but he asks for his memory not to be forgotten.

“All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me,

Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

I have this day received a traitor's judgment,

And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,

And if I have a co nscience, let it sink me,

Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!

The law I bear no malice for my death;

'T has done, upon the premises, but justice:

But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:

Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em:

Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;

For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.

For further life in this world I ne'er hope,

Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies

More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me,

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,

His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave

Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me, like good angels, to my end;

And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,

Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,

And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name.”

Lovell asks Buckingham’s forgiveness and Buckingham says he forgives Lovell as freely as he asks others would forgive him and he asks that they speak well of him to the king. Lovell says he must accompany Buckingham to the river and then hand him over to Vaux who offers to see the barge furnished “…as suits the greatness of his person.” Buckingham rejects this offer stating:

“Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.

When I came hither, I was lord high constable

And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,

That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;

And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

Who first raised head against usurping Richard,

Flying for succor to his servant Banister,

Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,

And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!

Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying

My father's loss, like a most royal prince,

Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,

Made my name once more noble. Now his son,

Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all

That made me happy at one stroke has taken

For ever from the world. I had my trial,

And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me,

A little happier than my wretched father:

Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both

Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most;

A most unnatural and faithless service!

Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,

This from a dying man receive as certain:

Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels

Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive

The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

Like water from ye, never found again

But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,

Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour

Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad,

Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!”

Buckingham is taken away to his death. The gentlemen then talk about how they have heard a rumour that King Henry VIII wants to separate from Queen Katharine and that Wolsey is pushing this path because he wants the king to marry another and take revenge on Katharine's father, the King of Spain.

Then in an ante-chamber in the palace, the Lord Chamberlain enters reading a letter telling of how Cardinal Wolsey seems to be taking horses and property which he claims will be given to King Henry VIII. When Norfolk and Suffolk enter and ask about the king, the Lord Chamberlain says that the king is being encouraged by Wolsey to think of divorcing Katharine. They hope that the king will see Wolsey for the manipulator he seems to be. The Lord Chamberlain exits.

Suffolk and Norfolk attempt to reason with King Henry VIII. He gets angry with them saying: “How dare you thrust yourselves into my private meditations?” When Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius (a envoy from the Pope) enter, the king ignores and then dismisses Suffolk and Norfolk. Wolsey then tells the king that since the king has asked the Pope to arbitrate on the grounds he has to divorce Queen Katharine.

Campeius explains the situation and Gardiner is called for a reading of the decision. The king and Gardiner exit. Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius discuss the downfall of the previous secretary. Then the king re-enters and says that the announcement of his divorce from Catharine will happen at Blackfriars:

“The most convenient place that I can think of

For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars;

There ye shall meet about this weighty business.

My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,

Would it not grieve an able man to leave

So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience!

O, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her.”

In the next scene, Anne Bullen and an older attendant, talk about the downfall of Queen Katharine. Anne thinks that Katharine would be happier if she had been born poor. Anne says that she would never want to be queen but the older attendant says that because Anne has the heart of a woman that she desires eminence, wealth and sovereignty. Anne reaffirms that nothing would make her desire to be queen.

The Lord Chamberlain enters to tell Anne that the king thinks a lot of her and wants to increase her income. She asks the Lord Chamberlain to thank the king. As the Lord Chamberlain leaves he speaks an aside that shows he thinks that Anne is attractive:

“I have perused her well;

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled

That they have caught the king: and who knows yet

But from this lady may proceed a gem

To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king,

And say I spoke with you.”

The Old Lady and discuss what will happen next to Catharine and to Anne herself.

In the next scene at Blackfriars, the Pope’s decision on Henry’s marriage to Katharine is about to be read aloud but King henry VIII says he has read it and it does not need to be read out aloud. Queen Katharine kneels at Henry's feet saying:

“Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;

And to bestow your pity on me: for

I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,

Born out of your dominions; having here

No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance

Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,

In what have I offended you? what cause

Hath my behavior given to your displeasure,

That thus you should proceed to put me off,

And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,

I have been to you a true and humble wife,

At all times to your will conformable;

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry

As I saw it inclined: when was the hour

I ever contradicted your desire,

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends

Have I not strove to love, although I knew

He were mine enemy? what friend of mine

That had to him derived your anger, did I

Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice

He was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind

That I have been your wife, in this obedience,

Upward of twenty years, and have been blest

With many children by you: if, in the course

And process of this time, you can report,

And prove it too, against mine honour aught,

My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,

Against your sacred person, in God's name,

Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt

Shut door upon me, and so give me up

To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you sir,

The king, your father, was reputed for

A prince most prudent, of an excellent

And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,

My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one

The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many

A year before: it is not to be question'd

That they had gather'd a wise council to them

Of every realm, that did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly

Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

Be by my friends in Spain advised; whose counsel

I will implore: if not, i' the name of God,

Your pleasure be fulfill'd!”

Wolsey says that the king has decided on his course of action already. Katharine says that she believes Wolsey is to blame for all this. Wolsey says that he has never done anything against her marriage and her person. Katharine says that she is unable to defend herself against Wolsey's cunning. She says that she will never allow Wolsey to judge her and she tries to exit but King Henry brings her back. Henry eventually lets her go. Wolsey then asks the king whether Wolsey has acted unfairly. King Henry VIII then expresses his doubts about his marriage to Katharine: to declare whether he has influenced him unduly with regards to Katharine, and the king consents to clear Wolsey's name, excusing him from Katharine's accusations.

The king then relates how he came to doubt his marriage to Katharine:

“My lord cardinal,

I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour,

I free you from't. You are not to be taught

That you have many enemies, that know not

Why they are so, but, like to village-curs,

Bark when their fellows do: by some of these

The queen is put in anger. You're excused:

But will you be more justified? You ever

Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desired

It to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft,

The passages made toward it: on my honour,

I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,

And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't,

I will be bold with time and your attention:

Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't:

My conscience first received a tenderness,

Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd

By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador;

Who had been hither sent on the debating

A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and

Our daughter Mary: i' the progress of this business,

Ere a determinate resolution, he,

I mean the bishop, did require a respite;

Wherein he might the king his lord advertise

Whether our daughter were legitimate,

Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,

Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook

The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,

Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble

The region of my breast; which forced such way,

That many mazed considerings did throng

And press'd in with this caution. First, methought

I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had

Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,

If it conceived a male child by me, should

Do no more offices of life to't than

The grave does to the dead; for her male issue

Or died where they were made, or shortly after

This world had air'd them: hence I took a thought,

This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom,

Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not

Be gladded in't by me: then follows, that

I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in

By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me

Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in

The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer

Toward this remedy, whereupon we are

Now present here together: that's to say,

I meant to rectify my conscience,--which

I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,--

By all the reverend fathers of the land

And doctors learn'd: first I began in private

With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember

How under my oppression I did reek,

When I first moved you.”

Campeius reveals that they will decide on the case another day. Henry says to himself that he does not trust the cardinals, and awaits Cranmer’s return to get sound advice:

“I may perceive

These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor

This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,

Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know,

My comfort comes along. Break up the court:

I say, set on.”

Henry VIII Act Three – “I charge thee, fling away ambition;
 by that sin fell the angels...”

Act Three of ‘Henry VIII’ starts on a different note with Queen Katherine in her chambers when suddenly a gentleman announces that Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius have arrived to speak to her. They say they want to speak to her in private but Queen Katherine is strong and confident when says:

“Speak it here:

There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,

Deserves a corner: would all other women

Could speak this with as free a soul as I do!

My lords, I care not, so much I am happy

Above a number, if my actions

Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em,

Envy and base opinion set against 'em,

I know my life so even. If your business

Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,

Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.”

Cardinal Wolsey claims that he wants to consult with her and offer her some good advice. Katharine rejects this and says that she is alone without friends in England. Cardinal Campeius is more forthright telling Katherine that King Henry VIII will look after her when the inevitable divorce or annulment of the marriage goes through and he offers his and Wolsey’s counsel. Katherine rejects this and eventually challenges them:

“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 any thing but churchmen's habits--

Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?

Alas, has banish'd 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…

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 vain-glory,

Never yet branded with suspicion?

Have I with all my full affections

Still met the king? loved 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.

Bring me a constant woman to her husband,

One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;

And to that woman, when she has done most,

Yet will I add an honour, a great patience…

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…

Would I had never trod this English earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!

Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.

What will become of me now, wretched lady!

I am the most unhappy woman living.

Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes!

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,

No friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me;

Almost no grave allow'd me: like the lily,

That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,

I'll hang my head and perish…

Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me,

If I have used myself unmannerly;

You know I am a woman, lacking wit

To make a seemly answer to such persons.

Pray, do my service to his majesty:

He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers

While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,

Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,

That little thought, when she set footing here,

She should have bought her dignities so dear.”

The scene then switches to Norfolk, Suffolk, Lord Chamberlain, and Surrey who discuss their objections to Cardinal Wolsey and reason that it is only through uniting against Wolsey that they can undermine his power. It is suggested by Lord Chamberlain that they could truly undermine Wolsey if they could reduce or even stop his access to King Henry VIII. Norfolk ceases on this and says that King Henry VIII is already starting to show frustration with Cardinal Wolsey over what the King perceives as Wolsey's double dealings with the King's desired divorce. Suffolk expands on this and says that the KIng's men intercepted a letter from Wolsey to the Pope which suggested that the Pope not grant a divorce until King Henry had tired of his affections for Anne Bullen. Lord Chamberlain reveals that King Henry had already married Anne Bullen in private. Suffolk says that Anne has many virtues and that she will bring blessings to the land. It is revealed that when Cranmer returns from consulting the great colleges and minds in Christendom on the matter, that news of the Henry's marriage to Anne Bullen will be published and made known to the public.

In the next scene Wolsey and Cromwell enter with a group of lords and Wolsey enquires about the delivery of his letters. Cromwell exits. In a monologue, Wolsey reveals that he wants King Henry to not marry Anne Bullen but to marry the French king's sister. He reveals that he objects to Anne Bullen because she is a Lutheran. Wolsey exits.

King Henry VIII enters with Lovell, and quietly seems concerned with the riches that he sees Wolsey as acquiring. He asks whether anyone has seen Wolsey and is told that when last seen he seemed disturbed and the Kings says that this could be because of some papers which Wolsey has lost and have ended up in henry's own hands. It is revealed that the papers reveal the extent of Wolsey's riches. Lovell is sent to find Wolsey and bring him before King Henry VIII.

When Wolsey comes before King Henry VIII, he questions Wolsey about his loyalties and Wolsey replies:

“My sovereign, I confess your royal graces,

Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could

My studied purposes requite; which went

Beyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours

Have ever come too short of my desires,

Yet filed with my abilities: mine own ends

Have been mine so that evermore they pointed

To the good of your most sacred person and

The profit of the state. For your great graces

Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I

Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,

My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,

Which ever has and ever shall be growing,

Till death, that winter, kill it.”

King Henry VIII gives Wolsey the papers supposedly showing Wolsey’s disloyalty. Then the King and the noblemen leave Wolsey. Wolsey looks at the papers. The first set of papers give an entire inventory of Wolsey’s wealth and the second set of pages are the letter from Wolsey to the Pope.

“What should this mean?

What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?

He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion

Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him;

Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;

I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so;

This paper has undone me: 'tis the account

Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together

For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom,

And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence!

Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil

Made me put this main secret in the packet

I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this?

No new device to beat this from his brains?

I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know

A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune

Will bring me off again. What's this? 'To the Pope!'

The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to's holiness. Nay then, farewell!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness;

And, from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall

Like a bright exhalation m the evening,

And no man see me more.”

Then Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey, and Lord Chamberlain enter again and reveal that King Henry VIII wants Wolsey to hand back the seal of his office and then be locked in Asher House. Wolsey will not give up his office to these lords who he regards as petty and jealous. The lords accuse him of being a “proud traitor”. Wolsey then says he will only hand over his seal directly to the king.

“This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,

I answer is most false. The duke by law

Found his deserts: how innocent I was

From any private malice in his end,

His noble jury and foul cause can witness.

If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you

You have as little honesty as honour,

That in the way of loyalty and truth

Toward the king, my ever royal master,

Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,

And all that love his follies…

All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach…

How much, methinks, I could despise this man,

But that I am bound in charity against it…

So much fairer

And spotless shall mine innocence arise,

When the king knows my truth…

Speak on, sir;

I dare your worst objections: if I blush,

It is to see a nobleman want manners.”

Surrey then speaks up and derides Wolsey as being filled with ambition and no pity when he caused the death of Surrey's own father-in-law, Buckingham, and furthermore had sent Surrey himself to Ireland to get him away so there would be no objections to Buckingham's death. Wolsey says that Buckingham's death was not a personal matter and reminds Surrey that a jury sentenced Buckingham to his death not Wolsey himself. Surrey, angrily brings up Wolsey's own treason of acquiring lands and holdings of other nobles and Wolsey's machinations with the Pope against the King. Norfolk then produces a set of articles outlining Wolsey's crimes and faults which is signed by King Henry VIII himself. Wolsey claims he is innocent and that the King knows he is loyal. 

The charges against Wolsey are then read which include collusion with papal representatives with the knowledge of King Henry VIII, writing to the Pope without the King's consent and attempting to bribe the Pope. Lord Chamberlain tries to intervene saying not to push Wolsey will he is already down. Surrey offers to forgive Wolsey, and then delivers the 'death blow' when he tells Wolsey that all his property and goods are now forfeited and that the King has withdrawn his protection of Wolsey. Suffolk and the others leave and Norfolk takes a passing shot by saying that the king will be told of Wolsey's refusal to give up his seal of office and undoubtably will find a suitable way to thank him.

Wolsey is now on his own and he contemplates the fate of men of greatness:

“So farewell to the little good you bear me.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!

This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth

The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,

And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,

And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely

His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

This many summers in a sea of glory,

But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride

At length broke under me and now has left me,

Weary and old with service, to the mercy

Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:

I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched

Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!

There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,

That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

More pangs and fears than wars or women have:

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.”

Then Cromwell enters and genuinely seems concerned for Wolsey. Wolsey tells Cromwell not to be upset and says that he will bear all that his enemies through at him. He then asks about the news and Cromwell tells that Sir Thomas More has been appointed to Wolsey’s office and that Cranmer has returned, and that the news has been announced that Anne Bullen is King Henry’s new queen. Wolsey says that he now knows his own sun is set but advices Cromwell to go to the king:

“O Cromwell,

The king has gone beyond me: all my glories

In that one woman I have lost for ever:

No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;

I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master: seek the king;

That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him

What and how true thou art: he will advance thee;

Some little memory of me will stir him--

I know his noble nature--not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too: good Cromwell,

Neglect him not; make use now, and provide

For thine own future safety.”

Cromwell is upset and says that while his service will be to the king, his prayers will stay with Wolsey. Wolsey cries as he sees his own sun set and advises Cromwell to avoid ambition and learn from Wolsey’s own mistakes:

“Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear

In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,

Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;

And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention

Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee,

Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;

A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.

Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:

By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,

The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st,

O Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king;

And,--prithee, lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,

And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell!

Had I but served my God with half the zeal

I served my king, he would not in mine age

Have left me naked to mine enemies.”

Henry VIII Act Four – “Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.”

Although many of the speeches in ‘Henry VIII’ are very characteristic of Shakespeare’s writing, as is the use of gentlemen or citizens talking in the street to reveal at once major events and the attitudes to these events, the long and detailed stage directions (particularly evident in Act Four of ‘Henry VIII’) are not a convention used by Shakespeare to this degree. This suggests the heavy hand of Fletcher on much of the action of Act Four of this play. However, much of the dramatic impact comes from Shakespeare’s carefully crafted dialogue, dramatic speeches and memorable individual lines. In Act Four of 'Henry VIII' we Shakespeare is a master building dramatic action through perspective, dramatic intention, tonal changes and emotional shifts.

Act Four of ‘Henry VIII’ starts at Anne Bullen’s coronation but we are given these events from the perspective of two gentlemen in the street. The two gentlemen, who have not met since Buckingham's trial, talk about the happy events of the coronation. They mention that Katharine is now to be called "Princess Dowager". The procession of the coronation passes the gentlemen as they comment on Anne Bullen’s virtues and the various offices people have been appointed to. Then the Third Gentleman enters and, having actually seen the coronation, he tells of it all and of the beauty of Anne. Cranmer, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, oversaw the ceremony. It is noted that Gardiner was at the ceremony even though he is a rival to Cranmer and does not get on with him. It is pointed out that Cranmer at least has a friend in Cromwell who has King Henry VIII favour and has just been appointed to Master of Coin.

The scene then switches to Katharine's chambers where Katherine foreshadows her own death and asks the noble Griffith to describe Wolsey’s path to death. Griffith tells of Wolsey’s life and death ultimately seeking to emphasise Wolsey’s virtues:

“Well, the voice goes, madam:

For after the stout Earl Northumberland

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…

At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,

Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,

With all his covent, honourably received him;

To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,

An old man, broken with the storms of state,

Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;

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

Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,

Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,

He gave his honours to the world again,

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace…

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues

We write in water…

This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

Was fashion'd to much honour 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;

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,

Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,

Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;

The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,

So excellent in art, and still so rising,

That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.

His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;

For then, and not till then, he felt himself,

And found the blessedness of being little:

And, to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died fearing God.”

After listening to Griffith’s words Katharine says that wants to Griffith to be her herald and speak her honour. Katharine then goes to sleep surrounded by Griffith and her attendants. Then, as explained in a long stage direction probably attributable to Fletcher, Katherine sees a vision of six people in white robes with crowns of garlands. Katharine awakens and asks her attendants and Griffith if they saw the vision but Griffith claims they have seen nothing. Katherine claims that this vision promises her heaven and eternal happiness. Katherine’s attendants privately think that these visions are an omen indicating that Katherine has not too long to live.

Then a messenger enters, to herald the arrival of a visitor who turns out to be Capucius, Katherine’s royal nephew and an ambassador from Katharine's father, Charles V of Spain. Capucius reveals that he is sent on behalf of King Henry VIII to enquire about Katherine’s health. Katherine answers:

“O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution:

That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me;

But now I am past an comforts here, but prayers.”

Katherine then gives Capucius a letter from her and addressed to the king. Katherine then utters her final words in the play as she outlines that the letter asks for King Henry to care for their daughter Mary (who was 19 years old at this time in 1535), provide for her ladies and care for and pay her male servant:

“… 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--

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

Upon my wretched women, that so long

Have follow'd 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,

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;

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,

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.

… Remember me

In all humility unto his highness:

Say his long trouble now is passing

Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,

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 honour: strew me over

With maiden flowers, that all the world may know

I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,

Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more.”

Henry VIII Act Five – “'Tis a cruelty to load a falling man.”

After seeing the demise of Buckingham in Act One, then the death of Buckingham and Henry VIII’s meeting with Anne Bullen in Act Two, followed in Act Three by the demise of Wolsey and the coronation of Queen Anne Bullen and the moving acceptance of death by Katherine in Act Four, Act Five (the final act) of ‘Henry VIII’ starts late at night, when Gardiner and Lovell meet to discuss Anne Bullen’s labor and her suitability as a queen. Gardiner thinks she is unfit to be queen and hopes that she and Cranmer and Cromwell are soon out of the way. Lovell says that all are valued by the king. Gardiner says that Cranmer is already accused of being a heretic and will come before the Council.

King Henry and Suffolk meet and see Lovell and ask for the latest news on Queen Anne Bullen’s labor and her baby. Henry sends them away and sees Archbishop Cranmer who he has summoned. The king talks to Cranmer, and tells him that he believes many have criticisms of Cranmer, and that he is to be summoned before the Council and King Henry VIII offers Cranmer his own ring for him to use in an emergency to show he has the king’s personal support:

“My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.

Come, you and I must walk a turn together;

I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand.

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,

And am right sorry to repeat what follows

I have, and most unwillingly, of late

Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,

Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,

Have moved us and our council, that you shall

This morning come before us; where, I know,

You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,

But that, till further trial in those charges

Which will require your answer, you must take

Your patience to you, and be well contented

To make your house our Tower: you a brother of us,

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness

Would come against you…

Stand up, good Canterbury:

Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted

In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up:

Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame.

What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd

You would have given me your petition, that

I should have ta'en some pains to bring together

Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you,

Without indurance, further…

Know you not

How your state stands i' the world, with the whole world?

Your enemies are many, and not small; their practises

Must bear the same proportion; and not ever

The justice and the truth o' the question carries

The due o' the verdict with it: at what ease

Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt

To swear against you? such things have been done.

You are potently opposed; and with a malice

Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,

I mean, in perjured witness, than your master,

Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived

Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;

You take a precipice for no leap of danger,

And woo your own destruction...

Be of good cheer;

They shall no more prevail than we give way to.

Keep comfort to you; and this morning see

You do appear before them: if they shall chance,

In charging you with matters, to commit you,

The best persuasions to the contrary

Fail not to use, and with what vehemency

The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties

Will render you no remedy, this ring

Deliver them, and your appeal to us

There make before them. Look, the good man weeps!

He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!

I swear he is true--hearted; and a soul

None better in my kingdom. Get you gone,

And do as I have bid you.”

Then an Old Lady and Lovell enter and announce to King Henry VIII, the birth of his child to Anne Bullen. King Henry asks whether the child is a boy or a girl and the Old Lady tells King Henry that the child is a boy. The King is happy and rewards her with a hundred marks before he exits to see his queen. King Henry VIII exits. The Old Lady is thankful for the money and says she was lying and that the baby is a girl and that the baby looks like the king himself:

“An hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more.

An ordinary groom is for such payment.

I will have more, or scold it out of him.

Said I for this, the girl was like to him?

I will have more, or else unsay't; and now,

While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.”

With Queen Anne and King Henry VIII’s daughter Elizabeth born, we switch to Cranmer who is outside the Council meeting chamber where a doorkeeper makes Cranmer wait until he is called (even though he is a Council member). Doctor Butts comments on the vindictiveness of some in the chamber towards Cranmer. King Henry VIII enters and Butts points out the games being played and how Cranmer is being forced to wait. King Henry is shocked. The Lord Chancellor enters with Suffolk, Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell and Cranmer is allowed to enter the Council chamber.

Individual members of the Council attack Cranmer about his opinions and religious dealings which they see as heresies. Cranmer claims that has always always taught the church’s real way and says that he wants to hear the exact charges against him. Because Cranmer is a member of the council, no Council member wants to bring direct charges against Cranmer. Gardiner says that the Council wants to imprison Cranmer in the Tower. This would reduce Cranmer’s status to that of a Commoner and make him able to be charged with all sorts of crimes. The Lord Chancellor tells Cranmer that he is about to be taken to the Tower and Cranmer is asked is if he has any has any defense and Cranmer asks:

“Is there no other way of mercy,

But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?

… For me?

Must I go like a traitor thither?

… Stay, good my lords,

I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;

By virtue of that ring, I take my cause

Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it

To a most noble judge, the king my master.”

The Council members know that they should not have sought to target target Cranmer, since he still has the King’s affections as proved by the ring. King Henry VIII enters. Gardiner gives thanks to the king and the king criticizes the Council:

“I had thought I had had men of some understanding

And wisdom of my council; but I find none.

Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,

This good man,--few of you deserve that title,--

This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy

At chamber--door? and one as great as you are?

Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission

Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye

Power as he was a counsellor to try him,

Not as a groom: there's some of ye, I see,

More out of malice than integrity,

Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;

Which ye shall never have while I live.”

King Henry VIII tells the Council that they should trust Cranmer because he, the king, trusts Cranmer. The king then asks Cranmer to baptize his daughter Elizabeth.

In the next scene a Porter and a large crowd enters. The crowd is trying to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth's baptism. The porter points out that the crowd who are trying to the baptism are the same crowd who attend public executions and shout and cheer at plays. The Lord Chamberlain enters and criticizes the Porter for not controlling the crowd and blocking the path of the royal ladies. The royals enter and a path is cleared.

In the last scene of the main part of the play Cranmer baptizes Elizabeth and makes a speech about her future greatness:

“And to your royal grace, and the good queen,

My noble partners, and myself, thus pray:

All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,

Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,

May hourly fall upon ye!

… For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter

Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.

This royal infant--heaven still move about her!--

Though in her cradle, yet now promises

Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,

Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be--

But few now living can behold that goodness--

A pattern to all princes living with her,

And all that shall succeed: Saba was never

More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue

Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,

That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,

With all the virtues that attend the good,

Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,

Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:

She shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her;

Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,

And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with her:

In her days every man shall eat in safety,

Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing

The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:

God shall be truly known; and those about her

From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,

And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when

The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,

Her ashes new create another heir,

As great in admiration as herself;

So shall she leave her blessedness to one,

When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,

Who from the sacred ashes of her honour

Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,

And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,

That were the servants to this chosen infant,

Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:

Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,

His honour and the greatness of his name

Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,

And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches

To all the plains about him: our children's children

Shall see this, and bless heaven…

She shall be, to the happiness of England,

An aged princess; many days shall see her,

And yet no day without a deed to crown it.

Would I had known no more! but she must die,

She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,

A most unspotted lily shall she pass

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.”

Then the character of the Epilogue enters and says that although some men may have found the performance boring, that the many women would have found the good women in the play worthy of applause:

“'Tis ten to one this play can never please

All that are here: some come to take their ease,

And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,

We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,

They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city

Abused extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'

Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,

All the expected good we're like to hear

For this play at this time, is only in

The merciful construction of good women;

For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,

And say 'twill do, I know, within a while

All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,

If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.”