You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:

Health to your lordships.

Suf. See, the king!

[Exit CHAMBERLAIN.

Enter the KING, reading pensively.

How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

King. Who's there? ha?

Nor. 'Pray Heaven, he be not angry.

King. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

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.

King. You are too bold;

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

Enter WOLSEY, and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS, with a Commission.

Who's there? my good lord cardinal?-O my Wol

sey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience,

Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference..

King: We are busy; go.

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.

Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.

Suf. I another.

[Aside.

King. Go.

[Exeunt SUFFOLK and NORFOLK.
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, ty'd by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,

I mean, the learned ones, in christian kingdoms,
Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judg-

ment,

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.
King. In mine arms I bid him welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves;
They've sent me such a man I would have wish'd 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 the unpartial judging of this business.

King. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted

Forthwith, for what you come. Where's Gardiner ?
Wol. I know your majesty always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that

A woman of less place might ask bylaw,
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour

To him that does best; Heaven forbid else! Cardinal, 'Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; I find him a fit fellow.

WOLSEY goes out, and returns with 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.

[Aside.

[Walks, and whispers with him.

Cam. My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace

In this man's place before him?

Wol. Yes, he waз.

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 envy'd 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. 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 else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
King. 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 furnish'd.-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 of the QUEEN's Apartments.

Enter LADY DENNY, and ANNE BULLEN.

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:-

I swear 'tis 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 :-

Who would on such conditions be a queen?
Lady D. Beshrew me, I would; so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.

Anne. Nay, good troth,

Lady D. Yes, troth and troth,-You would not be

a queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Lady D. A threepence bow'd 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.

Lady D. I would not be a young count in your

way,

For more than blushing comes to.

I

Anne. How you do talk!

swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world. '

Lady D. In faith, for little England
Yould venture an emballing: I myself

Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that.-Lo, who comes here?
Enter the CHAMBERLAIN.

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

The secret of your conference?

Anne. My good lord,

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 Heaven, amen!

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings

Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely,

The king's majesty

Commends his good opinion of you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pounds 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.

'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 perus'd her well;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,

That they have caught the king: And who knows yet,