Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her..

King. Ay, and the best, the shall have; and my favour To him that does beft, God forbid elfe. Cardinal, Pr'ythee, 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.

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then Ev'n of yourself, Lord Cardinal.

Wol. How! of me?

Cam. They will not ftick to fay, you envy'd him; And fearing he would rife, he was fo virtuous, Kept him a foreign man ftill: which so griey'd him, That he ran mad and dy'd.

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 fo near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner perfons.
King. Deliver this with modefty to th' Queen.
[Exit Gardiner.

The most convenient place that I can think of,
For fuch receit of learning, is Black-Fryers:
There ye fhall meet about this weighty bufinefs.
My Wolfey, fee it furnifh'd. O my Lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So fweet a bedfellow? but, confcience, confcience!
O, 'tis a tender place, but I must leave her. [Exeunt.
SCENE

SCENE an Anti-chamber of the Queen's

- Apartments.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

Anne. N°

OT for that neither-here's the pang, that
pinches.

His Highness having liv'd fo long with her, and she
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 fun, enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,

The which to leave 's a thoufand-fold more bitter
Than sweet at firft t'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.

Anne. In God's will, better

She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal,
Yet if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce (14)
It from the bearer, 'tis a fuff'rance panging
As foul and body's fev'ring.

Old L. Ah! poor Lady,
She's ftranger now again.

Anne. So much the more
Muft pity drop upon her; verily,

I fwear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content;
Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief,
And wear a golden forrow.

(14) Yet if that quarrel,] The fenfe is fomewhat obfcure, and uncertain, here. Either quarrel must be understood metaphorically, to fignify a fhaft, a dart; as it is ufed by Chaucer; and as, among the French, they fay, un Quarreau d'arbalefte, an arrow peculiar for the crofs bow or we must read, as Mr. Warburton has conjectured;

Yet if that quarr'lous fortune.

And Shakespeare, I remember, fomewhere uses this expreffionas quarr'lous as a weazel,

VOL. V.

P

Old

Old L. Our content

Is our beft 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,
For all this fpice of your hypocrify;

You, that have fo fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet

Affected eminence, wealth, fovereignty;

Which, to fay footh, are bleffings; and which gifts (Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your foft cheveril confcience would receive,
If you might please to ftretch it.

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 would hire me, Old as I am, to Queen it; but I pray you,

What think you of a Dutchefs? 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 do you talk!

I fwear 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 Carnarvanfhire, though there belong'd

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

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cha.Good-morrow, Ladies; what were't worth to know

The fecret of your conf'rence?

Anne. My good Lord,

Not

your demand; it values not your asking:

Our

Our mistress' forrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle bufinefs, 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 heav'nly bleffings Follow fuch creatures. That you may, fair Lady, Perceive I speak fincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majefly Commends his good opinion to you, and Does purpose honour to you no lefs flowing Than Marchionefs of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pounds a year, annual fupport, 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: Nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my withes
More worth than vanities; yet pray'rs and wines
Are all I can return. 'Befeech your Lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid to his Highness;
Whofe health and royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady,

I fhall not fail t'approve the fair conceit,

The King hath of you.—I've perus'd her well; (15) Beauty and honour in her are fo mingled,

[Apide. That they have caught the King; and who knows yet, But from this Lady may proceed a gem,

To lighten all this ifle ?- I'll to the King,

And fay, I spoke with you.

Anne. My honour'd Lord.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

Old L. Why, this it is: fee, fee!

I have been begging fixteen years in court, (Am yet a courtier beggarly) nor could

(15) I've perufed her well:] From the many artful strokes of address the Poet has thrown in upon Queen Elizabeth and her mother, it fhould feem, that this play was written and perform'd in his Royal Mistress's time: if fo, fome lines were added by him in the laft fcene, after the acceffion of her fucceffor, King James:

P 2

Come

Come pat betwixt too early and too

late, I

For any fuit of pounds: And you, oh fate! (A very fresh fifh here; fy, fy upon ex

This compell'd fortune) have your mouth fill'd up, Before you open its t

Anne. This is ftrange to me.

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

That would not be a Queen, that would the 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 Pembrake!
A thoufand pounds a year, for pure refpect!
No other obligation? By my life,

That promifes more thoufands: Honour's train
Is longer than his fore-fkirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a Dutchess. 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 falute my blood a jot; it faints me..
To think what follows.

The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long abfcence; pray, do not deliver
What here y'ave heard, to her.
Old L. What do you think me?

[Exeunt.

SCENE