For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me.

KING HENRY Come hither, Gardiner.

The King walks with Gardiner and whispers with him

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS (to Wolsey)

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 learnèd 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

Heav’n’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.

(Gesturing towards Gardiner)

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 griped by meaner persons.

KING HENRY (to Gardiner)

Deliver this with modesty to th’ Queen.

Exit Gardiner

The most convenient place that I can think of

For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars;

There ye shall meet about this weighty business.

My Wolsey, see it furnished. 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

2.3 Enter Anne Boleyn 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 thousandfold more bitter than

’Tis sweet at first t’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 bodies 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 perked up in a glist’ring 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 threepence 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?

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 burden, ’tis too weak

Ever to get a boy.

ANNE

How you do talk!

I swear again, I would not be a queen

For all the world.

OLD LADY

In faith, for little England

You’d venture an emballing; I myself

Would for Caernarfonshire, although there ’longed

No more to th’ crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

Good morrow, ladies. What were’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.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

It was a gentle business, and becoming

The action of good women. There is hope

All will be well.

ANNE

Now I pray God, amen.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

You bear a gentle mind, and heav’nly 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, and

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 hallowed, nor my wishes

More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes

Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,