Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS, with a commission Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience;Thou art a cure fit for a king.
To CARDINAL CAMPEIUS
You're welcome, Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
Use us and it.
To CARDINAL WOLSEY
My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker. CARDINAL WOLSEY Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour Of private conference. KING HENRY VIII [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK]
We are busy; go. NORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK]
This priest has no pride in him? SUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick though for his place:
But this cannot continue. NORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do, I'll venture one have-at-him. SUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] I another.
Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK CARDINAL WOLSEY 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 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. KING HENRY VIII And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves:
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. CARDINAL CAMPEIUS 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 HENRY VIII Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? CARDINAL WOLSEY I know your majesty has always loved 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. KING HENRY VIII Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal, Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow.
Exit CARDINAL WOLSEY
Re-enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, with GARDINER CARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand much joy and favour to you;You are the king's now. GARDINER [Aside to CARDINAL WOLSEY]
But to be commanded For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me. KING HENRY VIII Come hither, Gardiner.
Walks and whispers CARDINAL CAMPEIUS My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace In this man's place before him? CARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, he was. CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Was he not held a learned man? CARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, surely. CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then Even of yourself, lord cardinal. CARDINAL WOLSEY How! of me? CARDINAL CAMPEIUS 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. CARDINAL WOLSEY Heaven'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 HENRY VIII 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 ante-chamber of the QUEEN'S apartments. Enter ANNE and an Old Lady ANNE Not for that neither: here's 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 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 Lady Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her. ANNE O, God's will! much better She ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal, Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging As soul and body's severing. Old Lady Alas, poor lady!
She's a stranger now again. ANNE 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 Lady Our content Is our best having. ANNE By my troth and maidenhead, I would not be a queen. Old Lady 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, Saving your mincing, the capacity Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, If you might please to stretch it. ANNE Nay, good troth. Old Lady Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen? ANNE No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old Lady: 'Tis strange: a three-pence 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. Old Lady 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 burthen,'tis too weak Ever to get a boy. ANNE How you do talk!
