Suf. Pray God he do, He'll never know himself elfe. Nor. How holily he works in all his Bufinefs, And with what zeal? For now he has crackt the League Cham. Heav'n keep me from fuch Counfel; 'tis möft true; The French King's Sifter. Heav'n will one day open Suf. And free us from his Slavery. And heartily, for our deliverance; Or this Imperious Man will work us all Suf. For me, my Lords, I love him not, nor fear him, there's my Creed: And with fome other Bufinefs, put the King From these fad Thoughts, that work too much upon him; My Lord; you'll bear us company? Cham. Excufe me, The King has fent me other-where: Befides The Scene draws, and difcovers the King futing and reading penfively. Saf. How fad he looks; fure he is much afflicted. Nor. Pray God, he be not angry. King. Who's there, I fay? how dare you thruft your felve 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 Bufinefs of Eftate; in which, we come To know your Royal Pleasure. King. Ye are too bold: Go to; I'll make ye know your times of Bufinefs: Enter Wolfey,and Campeius the Pope's Legat, with a Commission. Thou art a cure fit for the King; you're welcome, Moft learned reverend Sir, into our Kingdom, I be not found a Talker. Wol. Sir, you cannot: I would your Grace would give us but an hour King. We are bufie; go. Ner. This Prieft has no Pride in him? Suf. Not to speak 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 given a Precedent of Wisdom Above all Princes, in committing freely Your fcruple to the Voice of Christendom: Who Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? I mean the learned ones in Chriftian Kingdoms, One general Tongue unto us, this good Man, King. And once more in mine Arms I bid him welcome, I tender my Commiffion; by whofe virtue, King. Two equal Men: The Queen fhall be acquainted A Woman of lefs Place might ask by Law, Scholars allow'd, freely to argue for her, King. Ay, and the beft the fhall have; and my favour To him that does beft, God forbid elfe; Cardinal, Prithee 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. Cam.. Was he not held a learned Man? Wol. Yes, furely. P 3 Cam Cam. Believe me, there's an ill Opinion spread then Even of your felf, Lord Cardinal. Wol. How? of me? Cam. They will not stick to fay, you envy'd him; Wol. Heav'n's peace be with him; That's Chriftian care enough; for living mumurers, For he would needs be virtuous. That good Fellow, King. Deliver this with modefty to th' Queen. [Exit Gardiner. The moft convenient place that I can think of, SCENE III. Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. Exeunt. Anne. Not for that neither---here's the pang that pinches His Highnefs having liv'd fo long with her, and fhe 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 courfes of the Sun enthron'd, Still growing in a Majefty and Pomp, the which To leave, a thousand fold more bitter, than Tis fu eet at firft t'acquire. After this Procefs, To give her the Avaunt, it is a pity Would move a Monster. Old L. Hearts of moft hard temper Met and lament for her, Anne. O' God's Will, much better She ne'er had known Pomp; though't be temporal, It from the bearer, 'tis a fufferance, panging As Soul and Body's fevering, Old L. Alas, poor Lady, Anne. So much the more Old L. Our Content Is our best 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 You that have fo fair parts of Woman on you, Which, to fay footh, are Bleffings; and which Gifts Of your foft Chiverel Confcience would receive, Anne. Nay, good troth Old L. 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 now would hire Old as I am, to Queen it; but I pray you, What think you of a Dutchefs? have you Limbs Anne. No, in truth, Old L. Then you are weakly made, pluck off a little, P4 (m.e, Anne. |