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:

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

King. We are bufie; go.

Nor. This priest 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 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 judgment
Invited by your noble felf, hath fent

One gen'ral tongue unto us, this good man,
This juft and learned priest, 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 muft needs deferve all ftrangers
loves,

You are fo noble: to your Highness" hand
I tender my commiffion; by whofe virtue,

(The

(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 beft, 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, 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.

Camb. 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 ftick to fay 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 maď 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 persons,

King

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 business. My Wolfey, fee it furnifh'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 must leave her. [Exeunt.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

Anne. NOT for that neither

that pinches.

here's the pang.

His Highnefs 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 grown in a majefty and pomp,

The which to leave, a thousand-fold more bitter
Than fweet at firft t'acquire. After this process,
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'rance panging
As foul and body's fev'ring.

Old L. Ah poor lady,

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

Than to be perk'd up a in a glift'ring grief,
And wear a golden forrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our beft 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 + cheveril confcience would receive,
If you might pleafe to ftretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth

Old. 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 Dutchess? have you limbs
To bear that load of title?

Anne. No, in truth.

[little

Old. L. Then you are weakly made; pluck off a

I would not be a young Count in your way

For more than blufhing 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 all the world.

Old L. In faith, for little England

You'll venture an emballing: I my felf

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

Enter

ti. e. Tender, from Caprellus, Lat. Ciaverello, it Chevereul, Fr. a young Goat or Kid.

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good-morrow, ladies; what wer'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 bleffings Follow fuch creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak fincerely, and high notes 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 Pembrook; to which title A thoufand pound a year, annual support, Out of his grace he adds.

Anne. I do not know

What kind of my obedience I should tenders
More than my all, is nothing: for my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wifhes
More worth than vanities; yet pray'rs and wishes
Are all I can return. 'Befeech your lordship,
Vouchfafe to fpeak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blufhing handmaid to his Highness;
Whofe health and royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady,

1 fhall not fail t'approve the fair conceit

The King hath of you. I've perus'd her well,
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled

{Afide

That they have caught the King; and who knows yet,
But from this lady may proceed a gem

To lighten all this fle? I'll to the King,
And fay 1 fpoke with you.

Anne. My honour'd lord.

Old L. Why, this it is: fee, fee,

[Exit Chamberlain.

I have