How! of me?

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 grieved

him,,

That he ran mad, and died.

Wol.

Heaven's peace be with him! That's Christian care enough: for living mur

murers

There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;

queen.

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 gripp'd by meaner persons.
K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the
[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
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, con-
science,-

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 :-heres the pang

that pinches :

His highness having lived 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;-O now, after
So many courses of the sun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-

The which to leave's 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.

Hearts of most hard temper

O, God's will! much better

Melt and lament for her.

Anne.

She ne'er had known pomp: though it be tem

poral,

Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce

It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging

As soul and body's severing.

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.

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

(Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch 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 heaven. Old L. 'Tis strange : a three-pence bow'd would hire me,

Old as

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 You'd 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 LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies.

worth to know

The secret of your conference?

What were't

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

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 Coramends his good opinion of you to 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; nor my prayers Are not words duly hallow'd, 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 improve the fair conceit The king hath of you.-[Aside.] I have perused

her well;

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,

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 honour'd lord.

Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Old L. Why, this it is; see, see !
I have heen 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, fie, upon

This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

Anne.

This is strange to me,

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 Pem

broke!

A thousand pounds a-year! for pure respect;
No other obligation by my life,

That promises more thousands: honour'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.