1 King. I then mov'd you, (19) My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave Under your hands and feals. Therefore go on; Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life To wear our mortal ftate to come, with her, Cam. So please your Highness, The Queen being abfent, 'tis a needful fitness Made to the Queen, to call back her appeal King. I may perceive, Thefe Cardinals trifle with me: I abhor (19) I then mov'd You, To make this prefent Summons unfollicited.] Thus all the Impreffions. But thefe Sagacious Editors have palm'd a ftrange Piece of Nonfenfe upon us, from a falfe Pointing. What did the King move the Bifhop, nay, and fo move him as to get his Leave, and yet could the Summons be faid to be unfollicited? I have rescued the Text from fuch an absurd Contradiction: and, again, done it upon the Authority of honeft Holing fhead. “ I "moved it in Confeffion to You, my Lord of Lincoln, then ghoftly Father. "And forafmuch as then you yourself were in fome Doubt, you mov'd me "to ask the Counsel of all thefe my Lords. Whereupon I moved you, my "Lord of Canterbury, first to have your Licence, in as much as you were "Metropolitan, to put this Matter in Question; and fo I did of All your my Lords." Hollingshead. ibid. p. 908. ACT T ACT III. SCENE, the Queen's Apartments. The Queen and her Women, as at Work. O QUEEN. AKE thy lute, wench, my foul grows fad with troubles : Sing, and difperfe 'em, if thou canft: leave working. SONG. Rpheus with his lute made trees, Hung their beads, and then lay by. In fweet mufick is fuch art, Killing care, and grief of heart Fall afleep, or bearing die. Queen. How now? Enter a Gentleman. Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the Prefence. Queen. Would they speak with me? VOL. V. D Το To come near; what can be their business Enter the Cardinals Wolfey and Campeius. Wol. Peace to your Highness! Queen. Your Graces find me here part of a house-wife, (I would be all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me, rev'rend lords? Wol. May't please you, noble Madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber; we fhall give you The full caufe of our coming. Queen. Speak it here. There's nothing I have done yet, o'my confcience, Were try'd by ev'ry tongue, ev'ry eye saw 'em ; I know my life fo even. If your bufinefs Wol. Tanta eft ergà te mentis integritas, Regina Sereniffima, Queen. O, good my lord, no Latin;. I am not fuch a truant fince my coming, As not to know the language I have liv'd in. [ous: A ftrange tongue makes my caufe more ftrange, fufpici- May be abfolv'd in English. Wol. Noble lady, I'm forry my Integrity fhould breed So deep fufpicion, where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accufation To taint that honour, every good tongue bleffès; You have too much, good lady: but to know Cam. Moft honour'd madam, My lord of York, out of his noble nature, Queen. To betray me. My lords, I thank you Both for your good wills, In fuch a point of weight, fo near mine honour, For her fake that I have been, (for I feel The last fit of my Greatnefs) good your Graces, Let me have time and council for my caufe: Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. Wol. Madam, you wrong the King's love with those Your hopes and friends are infinite. Queen. In England, But little for my profit: can you think, lords, That any English man dare give me counsel? Or be a known friend 'gainft his Highnefs' pleasure, [fears; In my own country, Lords. Cam. I would, your Grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. Queen. How, Sir? Cam. Put your main caufe into the King's protection; He's loving and moft gracious. 'Twill be much Both for your honour better, and your caufe: For if the tryal of the law o'er-take ye, You'll part away difgrac'd. Wol. He tells you rightly. Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for Both, my ruin : Is this your christian counsel? out upon ye! Heav'n is above all yet; there fits a Judge, That no King can corrupt. Cam. Your rage mistakes us. Queen. The more fhame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Upon my foul, two rev'rend Cardinal virtues; But Cardinal fins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye: 'Mend 'em for fhame, my lords: is this your comfort? The cordial, that ye bring a wretched lady? A woman loft among ye, laugh'd at, fcorn'd? I will not wifh ye half my miferies, I have more charity. But fay, I warn'd ye; Take heed, take heed, for heavn's fake, left at once. You turn the good we offer into envy. Queen. Ye turn me into nothing. Wo upon ye, And all Such falfe profeffors! Would (If you have any juftice, any pity, you have me If ye be any thing, but churchmens habits) His love, too long ago. I'm old, my lords; To me, above this wretchednefs? all your ftudies Cam. Your fears are worfe 1 Queen. Have I liv'd thus long (let me fpeak my felf, |