Old L. Ah! poor lady,
She's stranger now again,

Anne. So much the more
Must pity drop upon her; verily,
I fwear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content;
Than to be perk'd up in a glift'ring grief,
And wear a golden forrow.
Old L. Our content
Is our best 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,
For all this fpice of your hypocrifie ;

You, that have fo fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, fovereignty;
Which, to fay footh, are bleffings; and which gifts
(Saving your mincing) the capacity

Of your foft cheveril confcience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

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

To bear that load of title?

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
Cannot vouchfafe this burthen, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

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 my felf

Would

Would for Carnarvanshire, though there belong'd

No more to th' Crown but that. Lo, who comes here?

Enter Lord Chamberlain,

Cham. Good morrow, ladies; what were't worth to

The fecret of your conf'rence?

Anne. My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:

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!

[know

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 Majesty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose 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;
More than my all, is nothing: Nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wifhes
More worth than vanities; yet pray'rs 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,
Whose health and royalty I pray for.

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.

(15) I've perufed her well:] From the many artful Strokes 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 Mistress's time: if fo, fome Lines were added by him in the laft Scene, after the Acceffion of her Succeffor, King James.

C 4

That

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
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any fuit of pounds: And you, oh fate!
(A very fresh fish here; fie, fie upon

This compell'd fortune) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

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?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.

Old L. With your theme, I could

O'ermount the lark. The Marchionefs of Pembroke!

A thousand pounds a year, for pure refpect!

No other Obligation? By my life,

That promises more thoufands: honour's train
Is longer than his fore-skirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a Dutchefs. Say,
Are you not stronger than you were?

Anne. Good lady,

Make your felf mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. Would I had no being,
If this falute my blood a jot; it faints me

The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long abfence; pray, do not deliver
What here y'ave heard, to her.

Old L. What do you think me?

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to Black-Fryers.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with Short filver Wands; next them, two Scribes in the babits of Doctors: after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and St. Afaph; next them, with fome fmall diftance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purfe, with the great feal, and the Cardinal's bat; then two Priefts, bearing each a filver Cross; then a gentleman-ufher bare-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 fword and mace. The King takes place under the cloth of ftate; the two Cardinals fit under him, as judges. The Queen takes place, Some diftance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each fide the Court, in manner of a Confiftory: below them, the fcribes. The Lords fit next the Bishops. The reft of the attendants ftand in convenient order about the stage.

Wol.W Hilft our commiffion from Rome is read,

Let filence be commanded.

King. What's the need?

It hath already publickly been read,

And on all fides th' authority allow'd;

You may then fpare that time.

Wol. Be't fo; proceed.

Scribe. Say, Henry King of England, come into the

Cryer. Henry King of England, &c.

King. Here.

Scribe. Say, Catharine Queen of England,

Come into the Court.

Cryer. Catharine, Queen of England, &c.

[Court.

[The Queen makes no answer, rifes out of her chair, goes a bout the Court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks ;]

Sir, I defire you, do me right and justice ;

And to bestow your pity on me; for

I am a most poor Woman, and a ftranger,

Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indiff'rent, and no more affurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, Sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour giv'n to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,

And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,
I've been to you a true and humble wife,

At all times to your will conformable :
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, fubject to your count'nance; glad or forry,
As I faw it inclin'd: when was the hour,

I ever contradicted your defire ?

Or made it not mine too? which of your friends.
Have I not ftrove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? what friend of mine,
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence difcharg'd. Sir, call to mind,
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years; and have been bleft
With many children by you. If in the course
And procefs of this time you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty
Against your facred perfon; in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'ft contempt
Shut door upon me, and fo give me up
To th' fharpeft kind of juftice. Pleafe you, Sir,
The King your father was reputed for

A Prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgment. Ferdinand
My father, King of Spain, was reckon❜d one
The wifeft Prince that there had reign'd, by many

A year before. It is not to be queftion'd,

That they had gather'd a wife Council to them
Of ev'ry realm, that did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage lawful... Wherefore humbly,
Sir, I beseech you, fpare me, 'till I may

Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whofe counfel