Abbildungen der Seite

NORFOLK opens a folding-door. The King is dis

covered sitting, and reading pensively. Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted. K. Hen. Who is there? ha ? Nor.

'Pray God, he be not angry. K. Hen. Who is there, I say? How dare you thrust

Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way,
Is business of estate; in which, we come
To know your royal pleasure.
K. Hen.

You are too bold ;
Go to; I 'll make ye know your times of business :
Is this an hour for temporal affairs ? ha?

Who's there ? my good lord cardinal ?-O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king.--You 're welcome,

[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.


Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
K. Hen.

We are busy; go.

[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, 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.

Aside. Nor.

If it do, I 'll venture one ;-have at him. Suf.

I another. [Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.


[ocr errors]

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, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now consess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks,

1 I mean the learned ones, in christian kingdoms, Have their free voices—Rome, the nurse of judgment, 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. K. Hcn. 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 wishi u

for. 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 tlie unpartial judging of this business. K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be ac

quainted, 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.
K. Hen. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my

To him that does best ; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
I fiud him a fit fellow.

[Exit WOJSEY. Re-enter Wolsey, with GARDINER, Wol. Give me your hand : niuch 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. (A side. K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.

[They converse apart. 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 envied him ; And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and died. 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. K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen.

[Exit GARDINER. The most convenient place that I can think ot, For such receipt of learning, is Blackfriars ; There ye shall meet about this weighty business : My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O my lord, Would it not grieve an able man, to leave So sweet a bediellow? But, conscience, conscience, O, 't is a tender place, and I must leave her. (Exeunt.




[ocr errors]

SCENE III.-An Antechamber in the Queen's

Apartments. Enter Anne BULLEN and an old Lady. Anne. Not for that neither :-Here's the pang that

pinches : 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 ;-)


So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which
To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
'T is 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.

0, God's will ! inuch better
She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel,a fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 't is a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old L.

Alas, poor lady!
She's a stranger now again.

So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 't is 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

By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.

Quarrel is ap arrow.


[ocr errors]

Old L.

Beshrew me, I would,
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;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings : and which gifts
(Saying your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft cheverila conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

Nay, good troth,
Old L. Yes, troth, and troth,-You would not be a

queen ? Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old L. 'T is strange : a three-pence bowed would

hire me,

Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs
To bear that load of title?

No, in truth.
Old L. Then you are weakly made : Pluck off a

little; b
I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to : if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 't is too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne. How you do talk !
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
Old L.

In faith, for little England
You ’d venture an emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long’d
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

a Cheveril-kid-skin. So in Romeo and Juliet,'" O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.”

Pluck off a little-descend a little: You refuse to be a queen, a duchess, try a count.

« ZurückWeiter »