SCENE an Anti-chamber of the Queen's Anne. Apartments. Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. TOT for that neither-here's the pang, that pinches. His Highness having liv'd fo long with her, and the The which to leave 's a thomand-fold more bitter Would move a monster. Old L. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her. Anne. In God's will, better She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal, Old L. Ah! poor Lady, She's ftranger now again. Anne. So much the more I swear 'tis better to be lowly born, (14) Yet if that quarrel,] The fenfe is fomewhat obfcure, and uncertain, here. Either quarrel must be understood metaphorically, to fignify a fhaft, a dart; as it is ufed by Chaucer; and as, among the French, they fay, un Quarreau d'arbalefte, an arrow peculiar for the cross-bow: or we must read, as Mr. Warburton has conjectured; Yet if that quarr'lous fortune. And Shakespeare, I remember, fomewhere ufes this expreffion as quarr❜lous as a weaxel. VOL. V. P Old Old L. Our content Is our beft having. Anne. By my troth and maidenhead, I would not be a Queen. Old L. Befhrew me, I would, And venture maidenhead for't; and fo would you, You, that have fo fair parts of woman on you, Which, to fay footh, are bleffings; and which gifts Of your foft cheveril confcience would receive, Anne. Nay, good troth Old L. Yes, troth and troth: you would not be a Queen? Anne. No, not for all the riches under heav'n. Old L.'Tis ftrange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it; but I pray you, What think you of a Dutchefs? have you limbs Anne. No, in truth. Old L. Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little: I would not be a young Count in your way, For more than blufhing comes to: if your back Anne. How do you talk! I fwear again, I would not be a Queen For all the world, Old L. In faith, for little England You'd venture an emballing: I myself Would for Carnarvanshire, though there beiong'd Enter Lord Chamberlain. Cha.Good-morrow, Ladies; what were't worth to know The fecret of your conf'rence? Anne. My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking : Our Our mistress' forrows we were pitying. Cham. It was a gentle bufinefs, and becoming. The action of good women: there is hope, All will be well. Anne. Now I pray God, amen! Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly bleffings Follow fuch creatures. That you may, fair Lady, Perceive I speak fincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues; the King's Majefty Commends his good opinion to you, and Does purpofe honour to you no less flowing Than Marchionefs of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pounds a year, annual fupport, Out of his grace he adds. Anne. I do not know What kind of my obedience I should tender; Cham. Lady, I fhall not fail t'approve the fair conceit, The King hath of you. I've perus'd her well; (15) Beauty and honour in her are fo mingled, [Afide. That they have caught the King; and who knows yet, But from this Lady may proceed a gem, To lighten all this ifle?-I'll to the King, And fay, I spoke with you. Anne. My honour'd Lord. [Exit Lord Chamberlain. Old L. Why, this it is: fee, fee! I have been begging fixteen years in court, (Am yet a courtier beggarly) nor could (15) I've perus'd her well :] From the many artful ftrokes of addrefs the Poet has thrown in upon Queen Elizabeth and her mother, it should feem, that this play was written and perform'd in his Royal Miftrefs's time; if fo, fome lines were added by him in the laft fcene, after the acceffion of her fucceffor, King James. P 2 Come Come pat betwixt too early and too late, For any fuit of pounds: and you, oh fate! This compell'd' fortune) have your mouth fill'd up, Anne. This is ftrange to me. Old L. How taftes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no: 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? Old L. With your theme, I could O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke ! That promifes more thoufands: Honour's train Anne. Good Lady, Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful Old L. What do you think me ?. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Black-Friars. Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Verges, with fhort filver Wands; next them, two Scribes in the habits of Doctors: after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochefter, and St. Afaph; next them, with fome small diftance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purfe, awith the great feal, and the Cardinal's hat; then two Priefts, bearing each a filver cross; then a gentleman-ufher bear-headed, accompanied with a ferjeant at arms, bearing a mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great filver pillars; after them, fide by fide, the two Cardinals; two noblemen with the word and mace. The King takes place under the cloth of ftate; the two Cardinals fit under him, as judges. The Queen takes place, fome diftance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each fide the Court, in manner of a Confiftory: below them, the Scribes. The Lords fit next the Bishops. The reft of the Attendants ftand in convenient order about the ftage. Wol. Hilft our commiffion from Rome is read, King. What's the need? It hath already publickly been read, You may then spare that time. Wol. Be't fo; proceed. Scribe.Say, Henry King of England, come into the court, Cryer. Henry King of England, &c. King. Here. Scribe. Say, Catharine Queen of England, Come into the court. Cryer. Catharine Queen of England, &c. [The Queen makes no answer, rifes out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then Speaks;] Sir, I defire you, do me right and justice; I am a most poor woman, and a ftranger, P 3 Born |