They have sent 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 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 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.

K. Hen. 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 secretary;
I find him a fit fellow.
[Exit Wolsey.

Re.enter Wolsey, 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.

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 ill opinion spread

then

Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol.

How! of me!

Cam. They will not stick to say, you envied him; And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man* still; which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and died.

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him! That's christian 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. Learu this, brother, We live not 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, conscience,-
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An ante-chamber in 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 liv'd so long with her: aud 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 enthron'd,

Out of the king's presence.

Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which
To leave is a thousand-fold more 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.

Melt and lament for her.

Anne.

Hearts of most hard temper

O, God's will! much better,

She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrelt, fortune, do divorce

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

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.

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,
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 cheverila conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne.

* A sentence of ejection.
No longer an Englishwoman.
Truth.
Kid-skin.

Nay, good troth,

+ Quarreller.

› Possession.

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,
What think you of a duchess? 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 you do 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: I myself

Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What wer't worth

to know

The secret of your conference?

Anne.

My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows 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

blessings

* Crook'd.

Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, 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 pound a year, annual support,
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 froma blushing handmaid, to his highness;
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.

Cham.

Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit*,
The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well;

[Aside.

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,
That they have caught the king: and who knows

yet,

But from this lady may proceed a gem,
To lighten all this isle?—I'll to the king,
And say, I spoke with you.

Anne.

My honour'd lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain,

Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!

I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly), nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds: and you, (O fate!)
A very fresh-fish here, (fye, fye upon

This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

* Opinion.