Touch me alike; they're breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; fo I leave him
To him, that made him proud, the Pope.
Nor. Let's in;

And with fome other business put the King

From these 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 disturb him:
Health to your Lordships!

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.

The Scene draws, and difcovers the King fitting and
reading penfively.

Suf. How fad he looks! fure he is much afflicted.
King. Who is there? ha?

Nor. Pray God he be not angry.

[felves

King. Who's there, I fay? how dare you thruft your 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. Ye are too bold:

Go to; I'll make you know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?

Enter Wolfey, and Campeius the Pope's Legat, 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 the King. You're welcome,

Moft learned rev'rend Sir, into our kingdom;

Ufe us, and it; my good Lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot :
VOL. IV.

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I would

I would your Grace would give us but an hour

Of private conf'rence.
King. We are bufie; go.

[To Norfolk and Suffolk.

Nor. This Prieft has no pride in him?

Suf. Not to fpeak of:

I would not be fo fick though, for his place:

But this cannot continue.

Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.

Suf. I another.

[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.

Wol. Your Grace has giv'n a precedent of wisdom
Above all Princes, in committing freely

Your scruple 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 they have any goodness,
The tryal 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 gen'ral 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 welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves;

They've fent me fuch a man I would have wish'd for.
Cam. Your Grace must needs deferve all ftrangers loves,
You are fo noble: to your Highness' 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 impartial 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 what
A woman of lefs place might ask by law,
Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the best 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.

Enter 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.

King. Come hither, Gardiner.

[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
Ev'n of your felf, 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 ftill; which so griev'd him
That he ran mad and dy'd.

Wol. Heav'n'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 th' Queen.
[Exit Gardiner.

The most convenient place that I can think of,
For fuch receit of learning, is Black-Fryars:
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
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So

So fweet a bedfellow? but confcience, confcience ----
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.

SCE NE V.

[Exeunt.

An Antichamber of the Queen's Apartment.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

Anne. NOT for that neither

pinches.

here's the

pang

that

His Highness liv'd fo long with her, and she
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 courses of the fun, enthron'd,
Still growing in a majefty and pomp,

The which to leave's a thousand-fold more bitter
Than fweet at firft t'acquire, after this procefs,
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity

Would move a monster.

Old L. Hearts of moft hard temper Melt and lament for her.

Anne. In God's will, better

She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal,
Yet if that 'quarr'ler fortune do divorce

It from the bearer, 'tis a fuff 'rance panging
As foul and body's fev'ring.

Old L. Ah poor Lady,

She's ftranger now again.
Anne. So much the more
Must 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.

8 quarrel, or quar'llous... old edit. Warb. emend.

Old. L.

Old. L. Our content

Is our best Having.

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 hypocrifie ;

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; and which gifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your foft a cheveril confcience 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 heav'n.

[me,

Old L. 'Tis ftrange; a three-pence bow'd would hire

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 blufhing comes to: if

your back

Cannot vouchfafe this burthen, 'tis too weak

Ever to get a boy.

Anne. How do you talk!

I fwear again, I would not be a Queen

For all the world.

Old L. In faith for little England

You'd venture an emballing: I my felf

Would for Carnarvonshire, though there belong'd
No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

(a) Cheveril, kid leather.

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Enter