From thefe fad thoughts, that work too much upon him: -My lord, you'll bear us company?

Cham. Excufe me;

The king hath fent me other-where: befides,
You'll find a moft unfit time to difturb him:
Health to your lordships.

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

A Door opens, and discovers the King fitting and reading 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 fay? 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 bufinefs 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 Commiffion. 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. Moft learned reverend fir, into our kingdom; Ufe us, and it :-My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker.[3]

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

[To WOLSEY.

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 fo fick 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.' JOH. [4] That is, fo fick as he is proud. JOHNS.

Suf. I another.

[Exeunt NORF. and SuF. 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,
Muft 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 fent

One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This juft and learned prieft, cardinal Campeius ;
Whom, once more, I prefent 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 sent me fuch a man I would have wifh'd for.
Cam. Your grace muft needs deferve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble: To your highnefs' hand

I tender my commiffion; by whofe 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 fhall be acquainted
Forthwith, for what you come.-Where's Gardiner ?
Wol. I know, your majefty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of lefs place might ask by law;
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the beft, fhe fhall have; and my favour To him that does beft; God forbid elfe. Cardinal, Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary ; 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, whofe hand has rais'd me. [Afide. King. Come hither, Gardiper. [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 fo 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 fo near elfe. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner perfons.

King. Deliver this with modefty to the queen.
[Exit GARDINER.
-The moft convenient place that I can think of,
For fuch receipt of learning, is Black-Friars ;
There ye fhall meet about this weighty bufinefs :—
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.
ANNE BULLEN and an old Lady.

Enter

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

His highnefs having liv'd fo long with her; and the
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce difhonour of her, (by my life,
She never knew harm-doing) oh, now after
So many courfes 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 embaffies.

JOHNS.

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

Would move a monfter.

Old L. Hearts of moft 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 fevering.

Old L. Alas, poor lady!
She's ftranger now again.[8]
Anne. So much the more
Muft 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 glift'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. Befhrew me, I would,

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

For all this fpice of your hypocrify :

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

Affected eminence, wealth, fovereignty;

Which, to fay footh, are bleffings

(Saving your mincing) the capacity

and which gifts

Of your foft cheverii 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 ftriking fo deep and fuddenly. Quarrel was a large arrow fo called. Thus Fairfax,

'Twang'd the ftring, out flew the quarrel long.'

WARB.

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

[3] That is, our beft poffeffion. In Spanish, hazienda. JOHNS, Cheveril is kid-skin, soft leather. ib.

Old L. 'Tis ftrange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you, What think you of a dutchefs? 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 way, 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 myfelf

Would for Carnarvon fhire, 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 bufinefs, 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 fpeak 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 lefs flowing Than marchionefs 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 wifhes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes
Are all I can return. 'Befeech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his highness;