To York Place, where the feast is held.

1 Gent.

Sir,

You must no more call it York Place, that 's past;
For, since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost:
'Tis now the King's, and called White Hall.

3 Gent.

I know it;

But 't is so lately altered, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 Gent.

What two reverend Bishops

Were those that went on each side of the Queen?
3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of
Winchester,

Newly preferred from the King's Secretary;
The other, London.

2 Gent.

He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent.

All the land knows that:

However, yet there's no great breach; when it

comes,

Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from

him.

2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you?

3 Gent.

Thomas Cromwell;

A man in much esteem with the King, and truly
A worthy friend. The King

4

Has made him master of the jewel-house,
And one, already, of the Privy-Council.
2 Gent. He will deserve more.

3 Gent.

Yes, without all doubt.

Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the Court, there ye shall be my guests:
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.

Both. You may command us, sir.

[Exeunt.

'SCENE II.-Kimbolton

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and PATIENCE

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath.

O Griffith, sick to death:

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair :So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease.

Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st

me,

That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

Grif.

Yes, madam; but, I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to 't.

Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he

died :

If well, he stepped before me, happily,

For my example.

Grif.

Well, the voice goes, madam :

For after the stout Earl Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,

As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,

He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his mule.

Kath.

Alas, poor man !

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to

Leicester ;

Lodged in the Abbey, where the reverend Abbot,
With all his convent, honourably received him :
To whom he gave these words,—' O father Abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!'

So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still; and three nights after this,—
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last,-full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.

Kath. So may he rest: his faults lie gently on

him!

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity.—He was a man

Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that by suggestion
Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play ;
His own opinion was his law: i' the presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave

The clergy ill example.

Grif.

Noble madam,

(Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.) May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.

I were malicious else.

Grif.

Yes, good Griffith;

This Cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;

Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,

But, to those men that sought him, sweet as

summer:

And though he were unsatisfied in getting,-
Which was a sin,-yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely. Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he raised in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,

To keep mine honour from corruption,

But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him!-
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee.—Good Griffith

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