SCENE, The Queen's Apartments

The Queen and her Women, as at Work.

QUEEN.

AKE thy lute, wench, my foul grows fad with
troubles:

ΤΑ

Sing, and difperfe 'em, if thou canft: leave
working.

OR

SONG.

Rpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops, that freeze,:
Bow themfelves when he did fing
To bis mufick, plants and flowers
Ever fprung, as fun and showers
There had made a lafting Spring.
Ev'ry thing that beard him play,
Ev'n the billows of the fea,

Hung their Heads, and then lay by
In fweet mufick is fuch art,
Killing care, and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing die.

Enter a Gentleman.

Queen. How now?

Gent. An't pleafe your Grace, the two great Cardinal

Wait in the prefence.

Queen. Would they fpeak with me?

Gent. They will'd me fay fo, Madam.

Queen. Pray their Graces

To come near; what can be their business

With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour?
I do not like their coming. Now I think on't,
They fhould be good men, their affairs as righteous,
But all hoods make not monks.

Enter the Cardinals Wolfey and Campeius.

Wol. Peace to your Highness!

Queen. Your Graces find me here part of a houfe wife,

(I would be all) against the worft may happen:
What are your pleasures with me, rev'rend Lords?
Wol. May't pleafe you, noble Madam, to withdraw
Into your private chamber; we shall give you
The full caufe of our coming.

Queen. Speak it here.

There's nothing I have done yet, o' my confcience,
Deferves a corner; 'would, all other women
Could fpeak this with as free a foul as I do!
My Lords, I care not (fo much I am happy
Above a number) if my actions

Were try'd by ev'ry tongue, ev'ry eye faw 'em ;
Envy and bafe opinion fet against 'em ;

I know my life so even. If your bufinefs
Do feek me out, and that way F am wise in,
Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing..

Wol. Tanta eft erga te mentis integritas, Regina Seroniffima,

Queen. O, good my lord, no Latin ;

I am not fuch a truant, fince my coming,
As not to know the language I have liv'd in.

A ftrange tongue makes my cause more ftrange, fufpi

cious:

Pray, fpeak in English; here are fome will thank you, If you fpeak truth, for their poor mistress' fake. Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal, The willing'ft fin. I ever yet committed,

May

May be abfolv'd in English.
Wol. Noble lady,

I'm forry my Intregity fhould breed
(And fervice to his Majefty and you)

So deep fufpicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accufation
To taint that honour, every good tongue bleffes
Nor to betray you any way to forrow;

You have too much, good lady: but to know
How you fland minded in the weighty difference
Between the King and you: and to deliver,
Like free and honeft men, our juft opinions
And comforts to your caufe.

Cam. Moft honour'd Madam,

My lord of York, out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he ftill bore your Grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late cenfure
Both of his truth and him; (which was too far)
Offers, as I do, in a fign of peace

His fervice and his coumfel.

Queen. To betray me.

My lords, I thank you both for your good wilks.
Ye fpeak like honeft men; pray God, ye prove fo!
But how to make ye fuddenly an anfwer

In fuch a point of weight, fo near mine honour,
(More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit,
And to fuch men of gravity and learning,
In truth, I know not. I was fet at work
Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking
Either for fuch men, or fuch business.

For her fake that I have been, (for I feel

The last fit of my greatnefs) good your Graces,
Let me have time and council for my caufe;

Alas! I am a woman, friendlefs, hopeless.

Wol. Madam, you wrong the King's love with thofe

fears:

Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Queen. In England,

But little for my profit: can you think, lords,

That

That any English man dare give me counfel?
Or be a known friend 'gainft his Highness' pleasure,
(Though he be grown fo defp'rate to be honeft,)
And live a fubject nay, forfooth, my friends
They, that muft weigh out my afflictions,

- They, that my truft muft grow, to, live not here;
They are, as all my comforts are, far hence,
In my own country, Lords.

Cam. I would, your Grace

Would leave your griefs, and take my

Queen. How, Sir?

counfel.

Cam. Put your main caufe into the King's protec

tion ;

He's loving and moft gracious. Twill be much
Both for your honour better, and your cause :
For if the tryal of the law o'er-take ya,

You'll part away difgrac'd.

Wol. He tells you rightly.

Queen. Ye tell me what ye with for Both, my ruin; Is this your chriftian counfel? out upon ye! Heav'n is above all yet; there fits a judge,

That no King can corrupt.

Cam. Your rage mistakes us.

Queen. The more fhame for ye; holy men I thought

ye,

Upon my foul, two rev'rend Cardinal virtues;

But Cardinal fins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye:
Mend 'em for fhame, my lords: is this your comfort?
The cordial, that ye bring a wretched lady?

A woman loft among ye, laugh'd at, fcorn'd?
I will not with ye half my miferies,

I have more charity. But fay, I warn'd ye;

Take heed, take heed, for heav'n's fake, left at once
The burthen of my forrows fall upon ye.

Wo upon ye,

Wol. Madam, this is a meer distraction;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Queen. Ye turn me into nothing.
And all fuch falfe profeffors! Would you have me
(If you have any juftice, any pity,

If ye be any thing, but churchmens' habits)
Put my fick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas! h'as banifh'd me his bed already;

His love, too long ago. I'm 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 ftudies
Make me a curse, like this!

Cam. Your fears are worfe

Queen. Have I liv'd thus long (let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one? A woman (I dare fay, without vain-glory ;)

Never yet branded with fufpicion ?

Have I, with all my full affections

Still met the King? lov'd him next heav'n, obey'd

him?

Been, out of fondnefs, fuperftitious to him?

Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a conftant 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.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. Queen. My lord, I dare not make my self so guilty, To give up willingly that noble title

Your mafter wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol. Pray, hear me

Queen. "Would I had never trod this English earth,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!

Ye've angels' faces, but heav'n knows your hearts.
What shall become of me now! wretched lady!
I am the most unhappy woman living.

Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
[To her women.

Ship-wreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope! no kindred weep for me!
Almoft, no grave allow'd me! like the lilly,

That