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.

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.

Suf. Pray God he do! he 'll never know himself else.

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

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew:

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters 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 counsels 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
That when the greatest stroke of fortune falls
Will bless the king: And is not this course

pious?

Good" my good lord chamberlain "-has been here thrust into the text.

a

From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.
Suf.

For me, my lords, I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:

As I am made without him, so I'll 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 him:

I another.J

I'll venture one;-have at him."

Nor.

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:
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 is ordinarily printed, "I'll venture one have at him." Hare at you, as Douce properly says, is a common phrase; and it is used in two other passages of this play. But in following the old punctuation it is not less a common phrase. It appears to us that Norfolk means by "I'll venture one"-Il risk myself; and that Suffolk is ready to encounter the same danger-"I another." Steevens reads, "I'll venture one heave at him "-a metaphor of the wharfs. b By a great freedom of construction the verb sent applies to this first member of the sentence, as well as to the second.

This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius;

Whom, once more, I present unto your high

ness.

K. Hen. 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.

Cam. 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.

K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted,

Forthwith, for what you come ::-Where's Gar

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

(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

In faith, for little England You'd venture an emballing: I myself

So in Romeo and Juliet, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narroW to an ell broad."

Pluck off a little-descend a little: You refuse to be a queen, a duchess, try a count.

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
Commends his good opinion of you to you,
ande

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
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.

I shall not fail to improve the fair conceit The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well; [Aside.

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

Anne would not be a queen "for all the world;"--but you would, says the old lady, "for little England;"-I would for Carnarvonshire"-for one Welsh county.

High note's. In the original, high notes;-we understand it" that high note is taken," &c.

We print this line as in the original. The modern editors have silently dropped "of you." They hate the twelvesyllable verse,-one of the most marked peculiarities of our dramatic poetry when it threw off the shackles of the blankverse which preceded Shakspere.

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.

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.

SCENE IV. -A Hall in Blackfriars.

Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, Two Scribes, in the habits of doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat; then Two Priests, bearing each

The third fie has been rejected from the same love of monotony. The old lady, whose gossip is most characteristic, would lay a wager of forty pence.

a silver cross; then a Gentleman-Usher bareheaded, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a silver mace; then Two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the Two CARDINALS WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; Two Noblemen with the sword and mace. [Then enter the KING and QUEEN, and their Trains.] The KING takes place under the cloth of state; the Two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place at some distance from the KING. BISHOPS place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a consistory; below them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the BISHOPS. The Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.

The

And to bestow your pity on me : for

I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven
witness,

I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable:
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or

sorry,

As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, I ever contradicted your desire,

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends

Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to
mind

That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you: If, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you,
sir,

The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one
The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by