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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.

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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


Good" my good lord chamberlain "-has been here

thrust into the text.

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Nor. We had need pray,

And heartily, for our deliverance;

Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.

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


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:

My lord, you'll bear us company?

Excuse me;
The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
| Health to your lordships.

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

NORFOLK Opens a folding-door. The KING is discovered sitting, and reading pensively. Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much


K. Hen. Who is there? ha?

'Pray God, he be not angry. K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences

In the same way they have changed like into in-" in one lump."

The old stage-direction is, "The king draws the curtain, and sits reading pensively."-See Note on the construction of the ancient stage, Othello, page 322.

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I another.

I'll venture one;—have at him.a


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

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"-I'll 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


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

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And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, It from the bearer, 't is a sufferance, panging Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd | As soul and body's severing.

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Old L. She's a stranger now again." Anne. Must pity drop upon her.

Alas, poor lady!

So much the more Verily,

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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

(Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,

If you might please to stretch it.

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 bowed
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?


No, in truth.

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She is a foreigner again. Cheveril-kid-skin.

So in Romeo and Juliet,


a The ordinary reading is "to leave is a thousand-fold," here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow The verb is understood.

b Quarrel. Some would read quarreller. The expression

is metaphorical: Quarrel is an arrow.

to an ell broad."

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

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Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to know

The secret of your conference?

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.

Now I pray God, amen!
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly

Follow such creatures. That you may, fair


Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note 's b
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you to you,

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.

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.

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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.

e 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.

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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-


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

That promises more thousands: Honour's


Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a duchess;-Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
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?

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


The old lady, whose gossip is most characteristic, would lay a wager of forty pence.


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

a silver cross; then a Gentleman-Usher bare- | Or made it not mine too? Or which of your headed, 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. The 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.

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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

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


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

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,a 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,

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

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