Thou art a cure fit for a King.- -You're welcome,
Moft learned rev'rend Sir, into our kingdom;

[To Campeius.

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

Wol. Sir, you cannot :

I would your Grace would give us but an hour
Of private Conf'rence.

King. We are bufie; go.

[To Norf. and Suff.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him?

Suf. Not to speak 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 fcruple 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 nurfe of Judg

ment,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent

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 wel-

come,

And thank the holy Conclave for their loves;

They've fent me fuch a man I would have with'd for. Cam. Your Grace muft needs deferve all ftrangers'

loves,

You are so noble: to your Highness' hand

VOL. V.

Р

I

I tender my commiffion; by whose virtue,
(The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant,
In the impartial judging of this bufinefs.

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 less place might ask by law;
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the beft, the 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, whofe 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 fpread 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 fo 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

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 modesty to th' Queen.
[Exit Gardiner.
The most convenient place that I can think of,
For fuch receit of learning, is Black-Fryers:
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

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

[Exeunt. SCENE, an Antechamber of the Queen's Apart

Anne.

ments.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
OT for that neither- here's the pang,
that pinches.

N

His Highnefs having liv'd fo long with her, and the
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,

1

The which to leave 's a thousand-fold more bitter
Than sweet 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 quarrel, fortune, do divorce.

It from the bearer, 'tis a fuff'r

As foul and body's fev'ring."

Old L. Ah! poor lady,

rance pangingi

P 2

She's

She's ftranger now again.

Anne. So much the more

Muft 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.

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 so 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 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.

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

me,

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 blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe 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

For all the world.

Old L. In faith, for little England

You'd venture an emballing: I my felf

Would for Carnarvanshire, though there belong'd
No more to th' Crown but that.

here?

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Lo, who comes

Cham. Good morrow, ladies; what were't worth to

know

The fecret of your conf'rence?

Anne. My good lord,

Not

your

demand;

it values not your asking:

Our mistress' forrows 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 heav'nly blef fings

Follow fuch creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak fincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majefty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchionefs of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pounds 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 vanities; yet pray'rs and wishes
Are all I can return. 'Befeech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his Highness;
Whofe health and royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady,