Kept him a foreign man1 still; which so grieved him, That he ran mad, and died.2

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 griped by meaner persons.

K. Hen. 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 furnished.-O, my lord,

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 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 lived so long with her; and she
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonor of her,-by my life,

She never knew harm-doing ;-O, now, after
So many courses of the sun enthroned,

Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which

1 i. e. kept him out of the king's presence, employed in foreign embassies.

2 "Aboute this time the king received into favour Doctor Stephen Gardiner, whose service he used in matters of great secrecie and weight, admitting him in the room of Doctor Pace, the which being continually abrode in ambassades, and the same oftentymes not much necessarie, by the Cardinalles appointment, at length he toke such greefe therwith, that he fell out of his right wittes."-Holinshed.

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.

Melt and lament for her.

Anne.

Hearts of most hard temper

O, God's will! much better,

She ne'er had known pomp; though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce 2

It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing."

Old L. Alas, poor lady!

She's a stranger now again.

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 perked up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

Old L.

Is our best having.1

Anne.

Our content

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
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;

you,

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

Of your soft, cheveril 5 conscience would receive, you might please to stretch it.

If

1 To send her away contemptuously.

2 Steevens thinks that we should read:

"Yet if that quarrel, fortune to divorce

It from the bearer," &c.; using fortune as a verb.

3 To pang is used as a verb active by Skelton, in his book of Philip

Sparrow, 1568, sig. R v.

4 Our best possession.

5 Cheveril is kid leather.

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.

Old L. 'Tis strange; a threepence 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?

Anne.

No, in truth.

Old L. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a

little;

I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to; if
your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis 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

2

You'd venture an emballing: I myself

Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'longed

No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to

know

The secret of your conference?

Anne.

My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:

Our mistress' sorrows 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 heavenly blessings

1 The old lady says, "Pluck off a little;" let us descend a little lower. 2 i. e. you would venture to be distinguished by the ball, the ensign of royalty.

Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honor to you no less flowing
Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pound a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne.
I do not know
What kind of my obedience I should tender:
More than my all is nothing; nor1 my prayers
Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and
wishes

Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness;
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.

Cham.

Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,
The king hath of you.-I have perused her well;

Beauty and honor in her are so mingled,

[Aside.

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

To lighten all this isle?-I'll to the king,

And say, I spoke with you.

Anne.

My honored lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!

I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds; and you, (O fate!)
A very fresh-fish here, (fie, fie upon

This compelled fortune!) have your mouth filled up,
Before you open it.

Anne.

This is strange to me.

1 Mason proposes to substitute for for nor.

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence,' no. There was a lady once, ('tis an old story,)

That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt.-Have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.

Old L.
With your theme, I could
O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke!
A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect;
No other obligation. By my life,

That promises more thousands; honor's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a duchess;—say,
Are you not stronger than you were?

Anne.
Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me,
To think what follows.

The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence; pray, do not deliver
What here you have heard, to her.
Old L.

What do you think me?
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Hall in Black-Friars.

Trumpets sennet,2 and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in the habits of doctors; after them, the Archbishop of Canterbury alone; after him the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver cross; then a Gentleman Usher, bareheaded, accompanied with a Ser

1 Forty pence was in those days the proverbial expression of a small

wager.

2 This word sennet is the senne of the old French, or the segno or segnata of the Italians, a signal given by sound of trumpet—“ signum dare buccina."