The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare. With a Glossary

For our best act. If we skall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State statues only.

K. Hen.

Things done well,

And with a care, exempi themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission? I believe, not any.
We must not read our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution! Why, we take,
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o'the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To every county,
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has denied
The force of this commission: Pray, look to't;
I put it to your care.
Wol.
A word with you.
[To the Secretary.
Let there be letters writ to every shire,
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons
Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,
That, through our intercession, this revokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding.
[Exit Secretary.

Enter Surveyor.

Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.
K. Hen.

It grieves many:
The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker,
To nature none more bound; his training such,
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself.

Yet see,

When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well-dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, tea times more ugly.
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish'd listning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black

As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear
(This was his gentleman in trust), of him
Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices; whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham.

K. Hen.

Speak freely.

[you,

Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, That if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
To make the sceptre his: These very words
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.

Wol.

Please your highness, note
This dangerous conception in this point.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His wit is most malignant; and it stretches
Beyond you, to your friends.

My learn'd lord cardinal,

Speak on:

K. Hen
How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?
Surv.

He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
K. Hen. What was that Hopkins?
Surv.

John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living, but
To me, should ulter, with demure confidence theirs,
This pausingly ensu'd,-Neither the king, nor his
(Tell you the duke) shall prosper; bid him strive
To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke
Shall govern England.
Q. Kath.
If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'the tenants: Take good heed,
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you.
Let him on :-

K. Hen.
Go forward.
Surv.

On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang'rous
To ruminate on this so far, until
[for him,
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush!
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.
K. Hen.

Of such a time :-Being my servant sworn,
The duke retain'd him his.But on; What hence?
Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed,
As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.
K. Hen.
A giant traitor!
Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in free-
And this man out of prison?
[dom,
Q. Kath.
God mend all!
K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee;

Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage, is but merely A fit or two o'the face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold them, you would swear directly, Sir, a Chartreux friar, Their very noses had been counsellors His confessor; who fed him every minute To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. With words of sovereignty.. Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; one K. Hen. How know'st thou this? would take it, Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech amongst the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I replied, Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, To the king's danger. Presently the duke Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted; "Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk; That oft, says he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit

(For so run the conditions) leave these remnants
Of fool, and feather, that they get in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance,
Pertaining thereunto (as fights, and fireworks;
Abusing better men than they can be,

Out of a foreign wisdom), renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short blister'a breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men ;

Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away

The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. Tis time to give them physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
Cham.

What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities!
Lov.

Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies:
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow. [going
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they're
(For, sure, there's no converting of them); now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten.

A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Held current music too.
Cham.

Well said, lord Sands;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
Sands.

No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Cham.

Whither were you a going?
Lov.

Sir Thomas, To the cardinal's;

Your lordship is a guest too.
Cham.
O, 'tis true:
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in

A hand as fruitful as the laud that feeds us; [deed, His dews fall every where.

Cham.
No doubt, he's noble ;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; in
him,

Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal,
They are set here for examples.
Cham.
True, they are so;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along :-Come, good sir Thomas,

We shall be late else: which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford,
This night to be comptrollers.
Sands.

Wol. You are welcome, ny fair guests: that noble
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, [lady,
Is not my friend: This, to confirm my welcome;
[Drinks.
And to you all good health.
Sands.
Your grace is noble :-
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.

Wol .
My lord Sands,
I am beholden to you: cheer your neighbours.-
Ladies, you are not merry ;-Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?

Sands.

The red wine first must rise In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have the Taik us to silence.

[Exit a Servant. What warlike voice? And to what end is this?-Nay, ladies, fear not; By all the laws of war you are privileg'd.

Re-enter Servant. Cham. How now! what is't? Serv.

A noble troop of strangers; For so they seem: they have left their barge, and And hither make, as great ambassadors [landed; From foreign princes. Wol. Good lord chamberlain,

I am your lordship's. [Breunt. SCENE IV. The Presence-chamber in York-place. Hautboys. A small Table under a State for the Car-Go, give them welcome; you can speak the French dinal, a longer Table for the Guests. Enter at one Door, Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as Guests; at another Door, enter Sir Henry Guildford.

Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates

To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad; he would have all as merry
As first good company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.-O, my lord, you are tardy;
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir
Thomas Lovell.

The very thoughts of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.
Cham.
You are young, sir Harry Guildford.
Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think, would better please them: By my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now confessor To one or two of these!

tongue;

And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them: -Some attend him.-
[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and
Tables removed.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.
A good digestion to you all: and, once more,
I shower a welcome on you ;--Welcome all.
Hautboys. Enter the King, and twelve others, as
Maskers, habited like Shepherds, with sixteen
Torch-bearers; ushered by the Lord Chamberlain.
They pass directly before the Cardinal, and grace-
fully salute him.

A noble company! what are their pleasures? [pray'd
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they
To tell your grace;-That, having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly

This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.

1 Gent.

The same.

Wol. Say, lord chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace; for which I All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain pay them [sures. Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-And so his peers, upon this evidence, [Ladies chosen for the Dance. The King Have found him guilty of high treason. Much chooses Anne Bullen. He spoke, and learnedly, for life: but all K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O, beauty, Was either pitied in him, or forgotten. Till now I never knew thee. [Music. Dance.

Cham.

I will, my lord.

[Chamberlain goes to the Company and returns. Wol. What say they?

Cham.
Such a one, they all confess,
There is, indeed; which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.
Wo!.

Let me see then.-
[Comes from his State.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen ;-Here I'll make
My royal choice.
K. Hen.
You have found him, cardinal:

Unmasking.
You hold a fair assembly; you do well, my lord:"
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Wol.

I am glad

Your grace is grown so pleasant.
K. Hen.
My lord chamberlain,
Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that?
Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bullen's
daughter,

The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women.
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one. -Sweet-
I were unmannerly, to take you out,
[heart,
And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round.

Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready"
I'the privy chamber?

Lov. Wol.

Yes, my lord.

Your grace,

I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
K. Hen. I fear, too much.
Wol.

In the next chamber.

There's fresher air, my lord,
[partner,
K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one.-Sweet
I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry ;-
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead them once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt, with Trumpets.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast? 2 Gent.

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?
1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,--

By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surry was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2 Gent.
Was a deep envious one.
1 Gent.

2 Gent.

That trick of state
At his return,
No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally; whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
All the commous
Hate him perniciously, and, o'my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dete on; call him, bounteous Buck-
The mirror of all courtesy ;-
[ingham,
1 Gent.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment; Tipstaves
before him, the Axe with the Edge towards him;
Halberds on each side with him Sir Thomas Lo
vell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and
common People.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buck.
All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
And by thatname must die; Yet, heaven bear witness,
And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,
It has done, upon the premises, but justice;
But those, that sought it, I could wish more Christians:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,

O, God save you! Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,

Even to the ball, to hear what shall become
Of the great duke of Buckingham.
1 Gent.

I'll save you
That labour sir. All's now done, but the ceremony

Of bringing back the prisoner.

2 Gent.

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 2 Gent.

Were you there!

Pray, speak, what has happened? 1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. 2 Gent. Is he found guilty? 1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it. 2 Gent. I am sorry for't. 1 Gent.

So are a number more. 2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where, to his accusations,
He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.

The king's attorney, on the contrary,

Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd

To him brought, viva voce, to his face:
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2 Gent.
That fed him with his prophecies?

That was he,

His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave

Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven.-Lead on, o'God's name.
Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with no black envy
Shall make my grave.-Commend me to his grace;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him,
You met hin half in heaven: My vows and prayers
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake nie,
Shall ery for blessings on him: May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years?
Ever beloy'd, and loving, may his rule be !
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

Lov. To the water side I must conduct your grace;
Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.

The duke is coming: see, the barge be ready,
And fit it with such furniture, as suits
The greatness of his person.

Buck.
Nay, sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was lord high constable,
And duke of Buckingham: now, poor Edward Bohun:
Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it :
And with thet blood will make them one day groan
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, [for't.
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!
Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the eighth, life, honour, name, and ail
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,-Both
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most ;
A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels,
Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again

But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive me!
[Exeunt Buckingham and Train.
1 Gent. O, this is full of pity !-Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads,
That were the authors.

2 Gent.

If the duke be guiltless, "Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

Greater than this.

1 Gent.

Good angels keep it from us!

Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gent.

I do not talk much.

2 Gent.

Let me have it;

I am confident;

You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear

A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine ?

1 Gent.

Yes, but it held not; For when the king once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the lord mayor, straight To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it.

2 Gent. But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now: for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain, The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal, Or some about him near, have, out of malice To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple That will undo her: To confirm this too, Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately; As all think, for this business.

1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his asking, The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: Bat is't not cruel,

That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.
1 Gent.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

"Tis woful.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. An Antechamber in the Palace. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a Letter. Cham My lord,--The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young, and handsome; and of the best breed in the north." When they were

ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason,-His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king: which stopped our mouths, sir.

I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.

Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor.
Lord chamberlain.
Well met, my good
Cham.

Good day to both your graces. Suff. How is the king employ'd?

Cham.

I left him private,

What's the canse?

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor.
Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
Suff.
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
Nor.
"Tis so;
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him one day.
Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know him-

self else.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the

league

Between usand the emperor, the queen's great nephew,
He dives into the king's soul; and there seatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage:
And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counse's a divorce: a loss of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with even of her
Will bless the king: And is not this course pious?
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! "Tis
[them,

I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:
As I am made without him, so I'li stand,
If the king please; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him, that made him proud, the pope.

Nor.
Let's in;
And, with some other business, put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon
My lord, you'll bear us company?
[him:-
Cham.
Excuse me ;
The king hath sent me other-where besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.

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.
[To Wolsey.
Wol.
11 Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
K. Hen.
[To Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor. This priest has no pride in him.
Suff.
Not to speak of;,
I would not be so sick though, for his piace:
But this cannot continue.

Nor.

We are busy; go.

If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.
Suff.

I another.

>[Aside.

[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.
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 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 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. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms, I bid him
welcome,

for.

And thank the holy conclave for their loves;
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd
[loves,
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers'
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.

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;-0 now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,

Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which
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
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.

Old L.

She's a stranger now again.
Anne.

Alas, poor lady!

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 perk'd up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

Old L.

Is our best having.
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 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

K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be ac-(Saving your mincing) the capacity
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
favour

To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
I find him a fit fellow.
[Exit Wolsey.
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour
You are the king's now.
[to you;
Gard.
But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
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.

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 .
That's Christian care enough for living murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;
For he would needs be virtnous: 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 meaaer 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 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
Sosweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience,
O,'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt,

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
Heaven's peace be with him!The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.

[ings

Anne.
Now, I pray God, amen!
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly bless-
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 honour 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; nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes

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-kirjat