A creature of the Queen's, lady Anne Bullen.

Sur. Has the King this?

Suf. Believe it.

Sur. Will this work?

Cham. The King in this perceives him, how he coafts And hedges his own way. But in this point All his tricks founder; and he brings his phyfick After his patient's death, the King already Hath married the fair lady.

Sur. Would he had!

Suf. May you be happy in your wifh, my lord, For I profefs you have it.

Sur. Now all joy

Trace the conjunction.
Suf. My Amen to't.
Nor. All men's.

Suf. There's order given for her coronation
Marry this is but young, and may be left
To fome ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and compleat

In mind and feature. I perfuade me from her
Will fall fome bleffing to this land, which fhall
In it be memoriz'd.

Sur. But will the King

Digeft this letter of the Cardinal's?

The lord forbid.

Nor. Marry, Amen.

Suf. No, no:

There be more wafps that buz about his nose,
Will make this fting thee fooner. Cardinal Campeius

Is ftol'n away to Rome, has ta’en no leave,

Hath left the cause to th' King unhandled, and

Is pofted as the agent of our Cardinal,

To fecond all his plot. I do affure you,
The King cry'd ha! at-this.

Cham. Now God incenfe him;

And let him cry ha, louder.

Nor. But, my lord,

When returns Cranmer ?

Suf. He is return'd with his opinions, which

Have

1

Have fatisfy'd the King for his divorce,
Gather'd from all the famous colleges
Almoft in Christendom; foon, I believe,
His fecond Marriage fhall be publifh'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more

Shall be call'd Queen, but Princefs dowager,
A widow to Prince Arthur.

Nor. This fame Cranmer's

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the King's business.

Suf. He has, and we fhall fee him
For it an Archbishop.

Nor. So I hear.

Suf: 'Tis fo.

Enter Wolfey and Cromwell.

The Cardinal.

Nor. Obferve, obferve, he's moody.

Wol. The packet, Cromwell,

Gave it you the King?

Crom. To his own hand, in's bed-chamber.'
Wol. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper?
Crom. Prefently

He did unfeal them, and the first he view'd,
He did it with a ferious mind; a heed
Was in his countenance. You he bad
Attend him here this morning.

Wol. Is he ready to come abroad?
Crom. I think by this he is.

Wol. Leave me a while.

It shall be to the Dutchefs of Alenson,

Exit Cromwell. [Afide.

The French King's fifter he fhall marry her.
Anne Bullen!. -no, I'll no Anne Bullens for him,
There's more in't than fair vifage- -Bullen!
No, we'll no Bullens! -speedily I wish

To hear from Rome-the marchioness of Pembrook! ·
Nor. He's discontented.

Suf. May be he hears the King

Does whet his anger to him.

Sur. Sharp enough,

C 4

Lord

Lord for thy juftice!

Wol. [Afide.] The late Queen's gentlewoman! a Knight's daughter!

To be her miftrefs's miftrefs! the Queen's Queen!-
This candle burns not clear, 'tis I muft fnuff it,
Then out it goes-what though I know her virtuous
And well-deferving? yet I know her for

A fpleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to
Our caufe!-- that she should lye i'th' bofome of
Our hard-rul'd King!-again, there is fprung up
An heretick, an arch one; Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the King,
And is his oracle.

Nor. He's vex'd at fomething.

SCENE III.

Enter King reading of a schedule.

Sur. I would 'twere fomething that would fret the ftring

The mafter-cord of's heart:

Suf. The King, the King.

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion! what expence by th' hour Seems to flow from him! how i'th' name of thrift Does he rake this together! Now, my lords, Saw you the Cardinal ?

Nor. My lord, we have

Stood here obferving him. Some ftrange commotion
Is in his brain; he bites his lips and starts,
Stops on a fudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; fratt
Springs out into faft gate, then stops again,
Strikes his breaft hard, and then anon he cafts
His eye against the moon, in moft ftrange poftures
We've feen him fet himself.

King. It may well be,

There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning
Papers of ftate he fent me to peruse,

As I requir'd; and wot you what I found

There

There, on my confcience put unwittingly?
Forfooth an inventory, thus importing
The feveral parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of houshold, which
I find at fuch a proud rate, it out-fpeaks
Poffeffion of a fubject.

Nor. It's heav'ns will,

Some fpirit put this paper in the packet,
To blefs your eye withal.

King. If we did think

His contemplations were above the earth,
And fix'd on fpiritual objects, he should still
Dwell in his mufings; but I am afraid

His thinkings are below the moon, nor worth
His ferious confidering.

[He takes his feat, whispers Lovell, who goes to Wolfey, Wol. Heav'n forgive me.

Ever God bless your Highness

King. Good my Lord,

You are full of heavenly ftuff, and bear the inventory.
Of
your best graces in your mind; the which

You were now running o'er; you have scarce-time
To fteal from fpiritual leifure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit; fure in that
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol. Sir,

For holy offices I have a time;

A time to think upon the part of bufinefs
I bear i'th' ftate; and nature does require
Her times of prefervation, which perforce
I her frail fon, amongst my brethren mortal,
Muft give my tendance to.

King. You have faid well,

Wol. And ever may your Highness yoke together,

As I will lend you caufe, my doing well

With my well faying,

King. 'Tis well faid again,

And is a kind of good deed to fay well.

And yet words are no deeds. My father lovd you,

He

C 5

He faid he did, and with this deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office
I've kept you next my heart, have not alone
Imploy'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings to bestow

My bounties upon you.

Wol. What fhould this mean?

Sur. The lord increase this business.

King. Have I not made you

The prime man of the ftate? I pray you tell me,
If what I now pronounce you have found true:
And if you may confefs it, fay withal

If you are bound to us, or no? what say you?
Wol. My Sovereign, I confefs your royal graces
Showr'd on me daily have been more than could
My ftudied purposes require, which went
Beyond all man's endeavours. My endeavours:
Have ever come too fhort of my, defires,
Yet fill'd with my abilities, mine own

End's have been fuch that evermore they pointed
To the good of your moft facred perfon, and
The profit of the ftate: For your great graces.
Heap'd upon me, poor undeferver, I

Can nothing render but allegiant thanks,
My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever fhall be growing
'Till death, that winter, kill it.

King. Fairly answer'd :

A loyal and obedient subject is

Therein illuftrated; the honour of it
Does pay the act of it, i'th' contrary

The foulnefs is the punishment. I prefume

That as my hand has open'd bounty to you,

My heart dropp'd love, my pow'r rain'd honour, more
On you, than any; fo your hand and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any..

Wol. I profefs,

That