NORFOLK opens a folding-door. The King is discovered sitting, and reading pensively.

Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted

K. Hen. Who is there? ha

Nor. Pray God, he be not angry.

K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust 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 estate; in which, we come. To know your royal pleasure,

K, Hen. You are too bold;

Go to I'll make you know your times of busi

ness:

Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha ?

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.

-

Who's there? my good Lord Cardinal ? → O my Wolsey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience,

Thou art a cure fit for a King.

You're wel

come, [To CAMPEIUs, Most learned reverend Sir, into our kingdom;

Use us

and it

My good Lord, have great

I be not found a talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

care

[To WOLSEY

I would, your Grace would give us but an hour

Of private conference.

K. Hen. We are busy; go.

[TO NORFOLK and Suffolk.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him?)
Suf. Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though, for his

But this cannot continue.

Nor. If it do,

place:

I'll venture one heave at him.

Suf. I another.

Aside.

[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Wol. Your Grace has given a precedent of wis

dom

Above all Princes, in committing freely

Your scruple to the voice of Christendom:
Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms,
Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judge-

ment,

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.
K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms I hid
him welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves; They have sent me such a Inan 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,)

Lord

--

you, my

Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant,

In the unpartial judging of this business. K. Hen. Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted

Forthwith, for what you come :

Where's Gar

diner?

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.

K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour

To him that does best; God forbid else. Car

Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; I find him a fit fellow. [Exit WOLSEY

Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER.

Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour

You are the King's now.

to you;

Gard. But to be commanded

For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd

me.

K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.

[Aside.

[They converse apart,

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, surely.

Cam. Believe me, there's an iil opinion spread

Cam. They will not stick to say, you envy'd him;

And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still: which so griev❜ð him,

That he ran mad, and died.

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him! That's christian care enough:

murers,

for living mur

There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;
For he would needs be virtuous: That good fel-

low,

If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn, this bro

ther,

We live no to be grip'd by meaner persons.
K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the

Queen.

[Exit GARDINER. 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,

science.

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

SCENE III.

con

[Exeunt

An Antechamber in the Queen's Apartments.

Enter ANNE BULLEN, and an old Lady.

Here's the pang

Anne. Not for that neither;

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,
She never knew harm-doing;
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,

which

by my life,
O now, after

the

To leave is a thousand-fold inore bitter, than
'Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process,
To give her the avaunt! 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, do divorce

It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.

Old E 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.

Old L. Our content

Is our best having.

Anne. By my troth, and maidenhead, I would not be a Queen,

Old L. Beshrew me, I would,

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,