Shakespeare's First Folio - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Wol. How? of me?
Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him, That he ran mad, and dide
Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him: That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons
Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.
Exit Gardiner.
The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty busines.
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord, Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.
His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer p.r.o.nounce dishonour of her; by my life, She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe.
To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty Would moue a Monster
Old La. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her
An. Oh G.o.ds will, much better She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soule and bodies seuering
Old L. Alas poore Lady, Shee's a stranger now againe
An. So much the more Must pitty drop vpon her; verily I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow
Old L. Our content Is our best hauing
Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queene
Old.L. Beshrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of your Hipocrisie: You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please to stretch it
Anne. Nay, good troth
Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?
Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen
Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs To beare that load of t.i.tle?
An. No in truth
Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blus.h.i.+ng comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy
An. How you doe talke; I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world
Old.L. In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe Would for Carnaruans.h.i.+re, although there long'd No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?
Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know The secret of your conference?
An. My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying
Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well
An. Now I pray G.o.d, Amen
Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which t.i.tle, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes
An. I doe not know What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lords.h.i.+p, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blus.h.i.+ng Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for
Cham. Lady; I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And say I spoke with you.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine.
An. My honour'd Lord
Old.L. Why this it is: See, see, I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it
An. This is strange to me
Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?
An. Come you are pleasant
Old.L. With your Theame, I could O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?
A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?
No other obligation? by my Life, That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were?
An. Good Lady, Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To thinke what followes.
The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her
Old L. What doe you thinke me -
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short siluer wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then a Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two n.o.blemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.
Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded
King. What's the need?
It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th' Authority allow'd, You may then spare that time
Car. Bee't so, proceed
Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court
