[Anne Boleyn.] My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

[blessings ever

[Chamberlain.] You ha've gentle minds, and heavenly
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak a truth, and that high note
Is taken of your virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion to you; and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pounds a year his grace appends.

:

[a pause.] [tender :[Anne Boleyn.] My lord, I know not what to say, or More than my all is nothing: 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.

[Chamberlain.] Lady, I shall not fail. And say I've spoken with you.

I'll to the king Adieu! fair ladies.

[Old Lady.] Why only see now: here have I been begging
Some sixteen years at court, and still I am
A courtier beggarly; and you-O fate !—
A very fresh fish here, you have your mouth
Fill'd-ay, before you open it.-Is 't bitter?

[Anne Boleyn.] 'Tis very strange to me, I must confess.

[Old Lady.] But is it bitter ?—I 'll lay sixpence, no.
There was a lady once ('tis an old story)

That wouldn't be a queen,-no, that she would not,—
For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?

[Anne Boleyn.] Come, you are pleasant.

[Old Lady.] The marchioness of Pembroke! only think: A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect; No other obligation. By my life,

That promises more thousands; honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt: by this time
I know your back will bear a duchess :-say,
Are you not stronger than you were?

[Anne Boleyn.] Good lady,

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out. Heaven knows, I feel no pride
At this, but faint at thinking what may follow:
Come, go we in; we have been too long absent:
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful.
Pray, do not say to her what you have heard.

THE CEREMONY OF HOLDING A COURT UNDER A COMMISSION FROM ROME, TO TRY THE VALIDITY OF KING HENRY'S MARRIAGE WITH KATHERINE; AND THE SUBSEQUENT VISIT OF THE CARDINALS TO KATHERINE; REPRESENTED BY SCENES IN A HALL AT BLACKFRIARS; AND IN THE QUEEN'S APARTMENTS OF THE PALACE AT BRIDEWELL.

HISTORICAL MEMORANDA.

At king Henry's instances, pope Clement VII., in 1528, having already granted one commission, sent over a second, the object of which was, to effect a divorce from Catherine, so that he might be at liberty for a new wife. Different motives of different persons were at work to prevent, and to promote this object. The queen was naturally opposed to it. Charles V., her nephew, viewed it as an affront to his family, and was opposed to it. The king desired it on the pretence of an uneasy conscience, but much more from his passion for Anne Boleyn. Wolsey had desired it out of revenge to Charles, and that he might ingratiate the French king, Francis, by marrying Henry to his sister. Clement, who was in the power of Charles, and wished to keep up the friendship of Henry as a check to Charles, and yet not to offend the latter, temporised with both these parties: he sent cardinal Campeggio, or, as the name is Latinised, Campeius, as his legate to London: but with directions not to allow the matter to come to any speedy issue. The delays exhausted the patience of Henry, who took the matter into his own hands by privately marrying Anne,—by disgracing Wolsey, and by raising Cranmer in a few years afterwards to the see of Canterbury.

The poet himself thus describes the procession as it moves into the hall at Blackfriars, in order to holding the court for the trial of the king's marriage with Catherine :

Flourish of trumpets and cornets: enter two vergers with short silver wands; next them, two scribes in the habits of doctors; after them the archbishop (Warham) of Canterbury, alone; after him the bishops of Ely, Lincoln, Rochester, and St. 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 a silver cross; then a gentleman usher bareheaded, accompanied with a serjeant-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 take stations convenient for their duties. The business properly opens by reading the commission. The poet, to save his audience the tediousness of a formal document, contrives to dispense with it. A scribe, reading from a paper in which the ceremonial is written down, desires the crier to say " Henry king of England come into the court:" the king answers "Here:" the crier is then desired to call Catherine in a similar manner: she makes no answer, but moves from her chair, comes to the king, and kneels at his feet; then speaks:

[Q. Catherine.] Sir, I desire you do me right and justice; 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, and no assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding.

She rises, and continues,

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 witness

I ha've been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable.

Sir, call to mind

That I have been your wife in this obedience
Upwards of twenty years, and have been bless'd
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 the love and duty
I owe your sacred person, 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, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent

And unmatch'd wit and judgement: Ferdinand,
My father, king of Spain, was reckon❜d one

The wisest prince that there had reign'd, by many
year before it is not to be question'd

A

That they had gather'd a wise council to them

Of every realm, that did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore, I humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel
I will implore: if not, i' the name of heaven,

Your pleasure be fulfill'd.

Wolsey rises, and when he has spoken what ensues, is followed by the other cardinal:

[Wolsey.] You have here, lady,

And, of your choice, these reverend fathers; men
Of singular integrity and learning;

Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled

To plead your cause: it shall be therefore bootless

That longer you defer the court; as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify

What is unsettled in the king.

[Campeius.] His grace

Has spoken well and justly: therefore, madam,
'Tis fit this royal session do proceed;

And that without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd and heard.

[Q. Catherine.] Lord Cardinal

Campeius again rises:

To you I speak

Wolsey rises, and asks her pleasure:

Sir

I am about to weep; but thinking that

We are a queen, -or long have dream'd so,―certain
The daughter of a king,—my drops of tears

I'll turn to sparks of fire,—

[Wolsey.] Be patient yet.

[Q. Catherine.] I will when you are humble; nay, before, Or heaven will punish me. I do believe,

Induc'd by potent circumstances, that

You are mine enemy; and make my challenge
You shall not be my judge: for it is you

Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,—
Which heaven's dew quench! Therefore, I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from
my soul

Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more,
I hold my most malicious foe, and think
Not at all a friend to truth.

[Wolsey.] Madam, you do me wrong:

I have no spleen against you; nor injustice
For you, or any': how far I have proceeded,
Or how far further shall, is warranted

By a commission from the consistory,

Yea, the whole consisto'ry of Rome. You charge me