The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: v1v - Histories, p. 214

Left Column


The Life of King Henry the Eight. Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine. Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading pensiuely. Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted. Kin. Who's there? Ha? Norff.
[1045]
Pray God he be not angry.
Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your (selues Into my priuate Meditations? Who am I? Ha? Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences
[1050]
Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way, Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come To know your Royall pleasure.
Kin. Ye are too bold: Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:
[1055]
Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha ? Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission. Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded Conscience; Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,
[1060]
Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, I be not found a Talker.
Wol. Sir, you cannot; I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference. Kin.
[1065]
We are busie; goe.
Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him? Suff. Not to speake of: I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue. Norff.
[1070]
If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him.
Suff. I another. Exeunt Norfolke and Suffolke. Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome:
[1075]
Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you ? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes)
[1080]
Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse.
Kin.
[1085]
And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for.
Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand
[1090]
I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyned with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse.
Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquain­ (ted
[1095]
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her So deare in heart, not to deny her that A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her. Kin.
[1100]
I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. I find him a fit fellow.

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Right Column


Enter Gardiner. Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;
[1105]
You are the Kings now.
Card. But to be commanded For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me. Kin. Come hither Gardiner. Walkes and whispers. Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace
[1110]
In this mans place before him?
Wol. Yes, he was. Camp. Was he not held a learned man ? Wol. Yes surely. Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
[1115]
Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall.
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,
[1120]
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,
[1125]
If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be griped by meaner persons.
Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th'Queene. Exit Gardiner. The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of
[1130]
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;
[1135]
O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia. [Act 2, Scene 3] Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liued so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue should euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
[1140]
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.
[1145]
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 Gods will, much better
[1150]
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,
[1155]
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

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Scena Tertia. [Act 2, Scene 3] Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liued so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue should euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
[1140]
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.
[1145]
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 Gods will, much better
[1150]
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,
[1155]
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,
[1160]
Then to be perk'd up in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow.
Old L. Our content Is our best hauing. Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
[1165]
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,
[1170]
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,
[1175]
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
[1180]
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 Title?
An. No in truth. Old. L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
[1185]
I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy.
An. How you doe talke;
[1190]
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 Carnaruanshire, although there long'd
[1195]
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:
[1200]
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 God, Amen. Cham.
[1205]
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
[1210]
Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes.
An. I doe not know
[1215]
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 Lordship,
[1220]
Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blush ng Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for.
Cham. Lady; I shall not faile t'approue the faire conceit
[1225]
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,
[1230]
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
[1235]
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.
[1240]
This 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.
[1245]
Come you are pleasant.
Old. L. With your Theame, I could Ore‑mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect ? No other obligation? by my Life,
[1250]
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,
[1255]
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
[1260]
In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her.
Old L. What doe you thinke me — Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="3">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Tertia.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1136">Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.</l>
      <l n="1137">His Highnesse, hauing liued so long with her, and she</l>
      <l n="1138">So good a Lady, that no Tongue should euer</l>
      <l n="1139">Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,</l>
      <l n="1140">She neuer knew harme‑doing: Oh, now after</l>
      <l n="1141">So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,</l>
      <l n="1142">Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which</l>
      <l n="1143">To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then</l>
      <l n="1144">'Tis sweet at first t'acquire. After this Processe.</l>
      <l n="1145">To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty</l>
      <l n="1146">Would moue a Monster.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old La.</speaker>
      <l n="1147">Hearts of most hard temper</l>
      <l n="1148">Melt and lament for her.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1149">Oh Gods will, much better</l>
      <l n="1150">She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,</l>
      <l n="1151">Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce</l>
      <l n="1152">It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging</l>
      <l n="1153">As soule and bodies seuering.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old L.</speaker>
      <l n="1154">Alas poore Lady,</l>
      <l n="1155">Shee's a stranger now againe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1156">So much the more</l>
      <l n="1157">Must pitty drop vpon her; verily</l>
      <l n="1158">I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0571-0.jpg" n="215"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1159">And range with humble liuers in Content,</l>
      <l n="1160">Then to be perk'd up in a glistring griefe,</l>
      <l n="1161">And weare a golden sorrow.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old L.</speaker>
      <l n="1162">Our content</l>
      <l n="1163">Is our best hauing.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">Anne.</speaker>
      <l n="1164">By my troth, and Maidenhead,</l>
      <l n="1165">I would not be a Queene.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1166">Beshrew me, I would,</l>
      <l n="1167">And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you</l>
      <l n="1168">For all this spice of your Hipocrisie:</l>
      <l n="1169">You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,</l>
      <l n="1170">Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet</l>
      <l n="1171">Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;</l>
      <l n="1172">Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts</l>
      <l n="1173">(Sauing your mincing) the capacity</l>
      <l n="1174">Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue,</l>
      <l n="1175">If you might please to stretch it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">Anne.</speaker>
      <l n="1176">Nay, good troth.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old L.</speaker>
      <l n="1177">Yes troth, &amp; troth; you would not be a Queen?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">Anne.</speaker>
      <l n="1178">No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1179">Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me</l>
      <l n="1180">Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,</l>
      <l n="1181">What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs</l>
      <l n="1182">To beare that load of Title?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1183">No in truth.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1184">Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,</l>
      <l n="1185">I would not be a young Count in your way,</l>
      <l n="1186">For more then blushing comes to: If your backe</l>
      <l n="1187">Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake</l>
      <l n="1188">Euer to get a Boy.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1189">How you doe talke;</l>
      <l n="1190">I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,</l>
      <l n="1191">For all the world:</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1192">In faith, for little England</l>
      <l n="1193">You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe</l>
      <l n="1194">Would for<hi rend="italic">Carnaruanshire</hi>, although there long'd</l>
      <l n="1195">No more to th'Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Lord Chamberlaine.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-h8-chm">
      <speaker rend="italic">L. Cham.</speaker>
      <l n="1196">Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to
      <lb rend="turnover"/>
         <pc rend="turnover">(</pc>know</l>
      <l n="1197">The secret of your conference?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1198">My good Lord,</l>
      <l n="1199">Not your demand; it values not your asking:</l>
      <l n="1200">Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-chm">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cham.</speaker>
      <l n="1201">It was a gentle businesse, and becomming</l>
      <l n="1202">The action of good women, there is hope</l>
      <l n="1203">All will be well.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1204">Now I pray God,<hi rend="italic">Amen</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-chm">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cham.</speaker>
      <l n="1205">You beare a gentle minde, &amp; heau'nly blessings</l>
      <l n="1206">Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady</l>
      <l n="1207">Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes</l>
      <l n="1208">Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty</l>
      <l n="1209">Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and</l>
      <l n="1210">Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing,</l>
      <l n="1211">Then Marchionesse of<hi rend="italic">Pembrooke</hi>; to which Title,</l>
      <l n="1212">A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support,</l>
      <l n="1213">Out of his Grace, he addes.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1214">I doe not know</l>
      <l n="1215">What kinde of my obedience, I should tender;</l>
      <l n="1216">More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers</l>
      <l n="1217">Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes</l>
      <l n="1218">More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers &amp; Wishes</l>
      <l n="1219">Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship,</l>
      <l n="1220">Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience,</l>
      <l n="1221">As from a blush<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="uninkedType"
              resp="#ES"/>ng Handmaid, to his Highnesse;</l>
      <l n="1222">Whose health and Royalty I pray for.</l>
   </sp>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-h8-chm">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cham.</speaker>
      <l n="1223">Lady;</l>
      <l n="1224">I shall not faile t'approue the faire conceit</l>
      <l n="1225">The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,</l>
      <l n="1226">Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,</l>
      <l n="1227">That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet</l>
      <l n="1228">But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,</l>
      <l n="1229">To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King,</l>
      <l n="1230">And say I spoke with you.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit Lord Chamberlaine.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1231">My honour'd Lord.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1232">Why this it is: See, see,</l>
      <l n="1233">I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court</l>
      <l n="1234">(Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could</l>
      <l n="1235">Come pat betwixt too early, and too late</l>
      <l n="1236">For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)</l>
      <l n="1237">A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon</l>
      <l n="1238">This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,</l>
      <l n="1239">Before you open it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1240">This strange to me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old L.</speaker>
      <l n="1241">How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:</l>
      <l n="1242">There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)</l>
      <l n="1243">That would not be a Queene, that would she not</l>
      <l n="1244">For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1245">Come you are pleasant.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old. L.</speaker>
      <l n="1246">With your Theame, I could</l>
      <l n="1247">Ore‑mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of<hi rend="italic">Pembrooke</hi>?</l>
      <l n="1248">A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
      <l n="1249">No other obligation? by my Life,</l>
      <l n="1250">That promises mo thousands: Honours traine</l>
      <l n="1251">Is longer then his fore‑skirt; by this time</l>
      <l n="1252">I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,</l>
      <l n="1253">Are you not stronger then you were?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ann">
      <speaker rend="italic">An.</speaker>
      <l n="1254">Good Lady,</l>
      <l n="1255">Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,</l>
      <l n="1256">And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being</l>
      <l n="1257">If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me</l>
      <l n="1258">To thinke what followes.</l>
      <l n="1259">The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull</l>
      <l n="1260">In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer,</l>
      <l n="1261">What heere y'haue heard to her.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h8-ola">
      <speaker rend="italic">Old L.</speaker>
      <l n="1262">What doe you thinke me —</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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