Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS. Who's there? my good lord cardinal?-O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome, Wol. [TO WOLSEY. Sir, you cannot. I would, your grace would give us but an hour K. Hen. We are busy; go. [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Nor. This priest has no pride in him? Suf. Not to speak of? Aside. I would not be so sick though,3 for his place: Nor. If it do, I another. I'll venture one heave at him. Suf. [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: I mean, the learned ones, in christian kingdoms, have great care I be not found a talker.] I take the meaning to be, Let care be taken that my promise be performed, that my professions of welcome be not found empty talk. JOHNSON. 3 so sick though,] That is, so sick as he is proud. 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, And thank the holy conclave for their loves; Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, You are so noble: To your highness' hand K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted Forthwith, for what you come :-Where's Gardiner? A woman of less place might ask by law, 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 to you; Have their free voices;] The construction is, have sent their free voices; the word sent, which occurs in the next line, being understood here, But to be commanded You are the king's now. Gard. For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. [Aside. [They converse apart. Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace In this man's place before him? Wol, Cam. Was he not held a learned man? Wol. Yes, he was. 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 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. For he would needs be virtuous: That good fellow, So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience,— 5. Kept him a foreign man still] Kept him out of the king's presence, employed in foreign embassies, SCENE III. An Ante-Chamber in the Queen's Apartments. Enter ANNE BULLEN, and an old Lady. His highness having liv'd so long with her: and she Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which 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, 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, 6 To give her the avaunt !] To send her away contemptuously; to pronounce against her a sentence of ejection. Yet, if that quarrel, fortune,] Perhaps for quarreller. 8 stranger now again.] Again an alien; not only no lon ger queen, but no longer an Englishwoman. JoHNSON." Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, Old L. 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, You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, Which, to say sooth, are blessings: and which gifts (Saving your mincing) the capacity Of your soft cheveril' conscience would receive, Anne. Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old L. "Tis strange: a three-pence bowed would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you, Anne. No, in truth. Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a little; 2 I would not be a young count in your way, 2 9 our best having.] That is, our best possession. cheveril - Is kid skin, soft leather. Pluck off a little; &c.] i. e. let us still further divest preferment of its glare, let us descend yet lower, and more upon a level with your own quality. |