Cam. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace In this man's place before him? Wol. Cam. Was he not held a learned man? Wol. Yes, he was. Yes, surely. Cam. Believe me, there 's an ill opinion And fearing he would rise, he was so virtu ous, Kept him a foreign man still; which so grieved him That he ran mad and died. 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 griped by meaner persons. King. Deliver this with modesty to the [exit Gardiner. The most convenient place that I can think queen. 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, O, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her. [exeunt. SCENE III. An ante-chamber of the Queen's apartments. Enter ANNE BULLEN and an old Lady. Anne. Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches : His highness having lived 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-O, now, after So many courses of the sun enthroned, Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than "Tis sweet at first to acquire-after this pro cess, To give her the avaunt! it is a pity Would move a monster. Old L. Hearts of most hard temper O, God's will! much better Melt and lament for her. Anne. She ne'er had known pomp: though 't be temporal, Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce Old L. Alas, poor lady! She's a stranger now again. Anne. So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief And wear a golden sorrow. And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would you, For all this spice of your hypocrisy : 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 sooth, are blessings; and which gifts Saving your mincing-the capacity Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, 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. Old L. 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you, I would not be a young count in your way, For more than blushing comes to: if your I swear again, I would not be a queen Old L. No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here? Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were 't worth, to know The secret of your conference? |