From these fad thoughts, that work too much upon him:

-My lord, you'll bear us company?

Cham. Excuse me;

The king hath fent me other-where: befides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:

Health to your lordships.

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

1

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

A Door opens, and discovers the King fitting and read

ing penfively.

Suf. How fad he looks! fure, he is much afflicted. King. Who's there! ha?

Nor. Pray God, he be not angry.

King. Who's there, I say? How dare you thruft

yourselves

Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences,
Malice ne'er meant: Our breach of duty, this way,
Is business of eftate; in which, we come
To know your royal pleasure.

King. You are too bold :

Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business: Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?

Enter WOLSEY, and CAMPEIUS with a Commission. Who's there? my good lord cardinal ?-O my Wolfey, The quiet of my wounded confcience ! Thou art a cure fit for a king. You're welcome,

[TO CAMPEIUS.

Most learned reverend fir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care

I be not found a talker.[3]

[To WOLSEY.

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour

Of private conference.

King. We are bufy; go.

[To NORF. and SUF.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him.

Suf. Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though, for his place : [4]

[3] I take the meaning to be, Let care be taken that my promife be performed, that my profeffions of welcome be not found empty talk. JON. [4] That is, fo fick as ke is proud. JOHNS.

[Exeunt NoRF. and Sur.

Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

Above all princes, in committing freely

Your fcruple to the voice of Christendom.

Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
The Spaniard, ty'd by blood and favour to her,
Must now confefs, if he have any goodness,
The trial juft and noble. All the clerks,

I mean, the learned ones, in chriftian kingdoms,
Have their free voices. Rome, the nurse of judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent

One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius;
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.

King. And, once more, in mine arms I bid him wel

come,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves;
They have fent me such a man I would have wish'd for.
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble: To your highness' hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue
(The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their fervant,
In the unpartial judging of this business.

King. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted Forthwith, for what you come. Where's Gardiner ? Wol. I know, your majesty has always lov'd her

So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law;
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new fecretary;
I find him a fit fellow.

Cardinal goes out, and re-enters with GARDINER. Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you: You are the king's now.

Gard. But to be commanded

For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. [Afide. King. Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks and whispers. Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace

In this man's place before him?

Wol. Yes, he was.

Cam. Was he not held a learned man ?

Wol. Yes, furely.

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then

Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol. How! of me?

Cam. They will not stick to say, you envy'd him; And, fearing he would rife, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still : [5] which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and dy'd.

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him!
That's Chriftian care enough: for living murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool,
For he would needs be virtuous: That good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner perfons.

King. Deliver this with modefty to the queen.
[Exit GARDINER.

-The most convenient place that I can think of,
For fuch receipt of learning, is Black-Friars ;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business :-
My Wolfey, fee it furnish'd.-O my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So fweet a bed fellow? But, confcience! confcience!
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An Anti-Chamber of the Queen's Apartments. Enter ANNE BULLEN and an old Lady.

Anne. Nor for that neither :-Here's the pang that

pinches:

His highness having liv'd so long with her; and she
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her, (by my life,
She never knew harm-doing) oh, now after
So many courses of the fun, enthron'd,

Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which

[5] Kept him out of the king's prefence, employed in foreign embassies. JOHNS.

To leave is a thousand fold more bitter, than
'Tis fweet at first to acquire, after this process,
To give her the avaunt ! [6] it is a pity

Would move a monster.

Old L. Hearts of most hard temper 'Melt and lament for her.

Anne. O, God's will! much better,

She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, [7] do divorce
It from the bearer, it is a fufferance, panging

As foul and body's severing.

Old L. Alas, poor lady !

She's stranger now again.[8]
Anne. So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I fwear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief,
And wear a golden forrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our best having.[9]

Anne. By my troth, and maidenhead,

I would not be a queen.

Old L. Beshrew me, I would,

And venture maidenhead for't; and fo would you,

For all this fpice of your hypocrify :

You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet

Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;

Which, to say footh, are bleffings: and which gifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your foft cheveril confcience would receive,[1]
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth,-

Old L. Yes, troth and troth,-You would not be a

queen ?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.

[6] To fend her away contemptuously; to pronounce against her a fentence of ejection. JOHNS.

[7] He calls Fortune a quarrel or arrow, from her striking so deep and Suddenly. Quarrel was a large arrow so called. Thus Fairfax, 'Twang'd the string, out flew the quarrel long.

WARB.

[8] Again an alien; not only no longer queen, but no longer an Englishwoman. JOHNS..

[9] That is, our best poffeffion. In Spanish, hazienda.

Cheveril is kid-fkin, soft leather.

JOHNS,

1

VOL. VI.

D

Old L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me,

Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,
What think you of a dutchess? have you limbs
To bear that load of title ?

Anne. No, in truth.

Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a little;

I would not be a young count in your ways
For more than blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne. How do you talk!

I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

Old L. In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing : [2] I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to know The fecret of your conference ?

Anne. My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking :
Our mistress' forrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.

Anne. Now I pray God, amen !

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly bleffings Follow fuch creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak fincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty Commends his good opinion to you, and Does purpose honour to you no less flowing Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pounds a year, annual fupport, Out of his grace he adds.

Anne. I do not know,

What kind of my obedience I should tender ;
More than my all, is nothing: nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his highness;