Imatges de pÓgina
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Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome, 280

[To CAMPEIUS.

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it :-My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

[To WOLSEY.

I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

King. We are busy; go.

[To NORF. and SUF.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him.

Suf. Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though, for his place:

But this cannot continue.

Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.

Suf. I another. Exeunt NORF. and SUF.J

Aside.

Wol. Your grace has given 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,
Must now confess, if he have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,

I mean, the learned ones,

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in christian kingdoms, Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judg

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.

King. And, once more, in mine arms I bid him welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves ;

They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd

for.

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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.

King. 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.

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King. 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.

CARDINAL goes out, and re-enters with, GARDINER.

Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour to

you;

You are the king's now.

Gard.

Gard. But to be commanded

For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.

[Aside.

King. Come hither, Gardiner.

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[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, 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 envy'd him; And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, 341 Kept him a foreign man still: which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and dy'd.

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. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

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King. 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

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 Anti-Chamber of the Queen's Apartments. Enter ANNE BULLEN, and an old Lady.

Anne. Not for that neither;-Here's the pang that

pinches :

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His highness having liv'd so long with her; and 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,

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. Hearts of most hard temper

Melt and lament for her.

Anne. O, God's will! much better,

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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 L. Alas, poor lady!

She's stranger now again.

Anne.

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,

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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;

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Which, to say sooth, are blessings: and which gifts (Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your soft cheveril conscience 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 heaven.

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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 dutchess? have you limbs

To bear that load of title?

Anne. No, in truth.

Old L.

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