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Enter Wolfey, and Campeius the Pope's Legat,
with a Commission. Who's there ? my good Lord Cardinal ? O my Wolfeys The quiet of my wounded conscience; Thou art a cure fit for the King. You're welcomes, Most learned rev'rend Sir, into our kingdom, Use us, and it ; my good lord, have great care I be not found a talker.
Wol. Sir, you cannot:
King. We are busie; go.
Suf. Not to speak of:
Nor, If it do,
Suf. I'another. [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolks
King. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcomes And thank the holy conclave for their loves, They've sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. cam. Your Grace mult needs deserve all strangers
loves, You are so noble: to your Highness” hand I tender my commission, by whose virtue,
(The (The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant,' In the impartial judging of this business.
King. Two equal men: the Queen Ihall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
Wol. I know your Majesty has always loy'd her
King. Ay and the bed, the Ihall have: and my favour
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. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then Ey'n of your self, lord Cardinal.
Wol. How of me?
Cam. They will not stick to fay you envy'd him And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still; which fo griev'd him; That he ran mad and dy'd.
Wol, Heav'n'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 elle. Learn this, brother, We liye not to be grip'd by meaner persons,
King. Deliver this with modesty to th'Queen
(Exit Gardiner. The most convenient place that I can think of, For such receit of learning, is Black-Fryars: There
ye shall meet about this weighey business. My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O my lord, Would it not grieve an able man to leave So sweet a bedfellow? but confcience, conscience O'tis a' tender place, and I must leave her. (Exeunt.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. Anne. T for that neither
here's the pang
old L. Hearts of most 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 suff'rance panging As foul and body's fev'ring.
old L. Ah poor lady, She's stranger now again.
Anne. So much the more
Than to be perk'd up a in a glift'ring grief,
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, And venture maidenhead for't ; and so would you, For all this fpice of your hypocrisie ; 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 footh, are blessings; and which gifts (Saving your mincing) the capacity Of your soft + cheveril conseience would receive, If you might please to stretch it.
Anne. Nay, good troch old. Yes, troth and troth; you would not be a Queen? Anne. No, not for all the riches under Heav'n.
old. L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd would 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 blushing comes to : if your
back Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, 'tis too weak Ever to get a boy.
Anne. How do you talk !
Old L. In faith, for little England
Enter t i, 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 secret of
conf'rence ? Anne. My good lord,
demand; it values not your asking: Our mistress? sorrows we were pitying.
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
Anne. Now I pray God, amen.
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak fincerely, and high notes 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 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 wishes More worth than vanities; yet pray’rs and wishes Are all I can return. 'Befeech your lord ship, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid to his Highness ; Whose health and royalty I pray for.
Anne. My honour'd lord.