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In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;

And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention [thee, Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. [it.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that
hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty,
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

silence envious tongues. Be just, and
fear not :

1 Gent. Yes; 'tis the list Of those, that claim their offices this day, By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk, He to be earl marshal; you may read the rest. 2 Gent. I thank you, Sir; had I not known those customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper. But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,

The princess dowager! how goes her business? 1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop

Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to
which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage* made of none effect:
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

[Trumpets.

2 Gent. Alas, good lady!The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.

et all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy coun-1. Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fail'st, O Cromwell,

[try's,

2.

3.

4.

my robe,

5.

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And, Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny: 'tis the king's
And my integrity to heayen, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell,

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THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION. A lively flourish of Trumpets; then enter Two Judges.

The Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him. Choristers singing.

[Music.

Mayor of London bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head, a gilt copper crown.

Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, the duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the Queen in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the bishops of London, and Winchester.

[Exeunt.

7.

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8. The old duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I know;

Who's that, that bears the sceptre? 1 Gent. Marquis Dorset:

And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that should be

The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent. 'Tis the same; high-steward. 2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk? 1 Gent. Yes.

2 Gent. Heaven bless thee!

[Looking on the Queen. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;

The marriage lately considered as valid.

Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that
I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent. They, that bear

[lady:

The cloth of honour over her, are four barons Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train, Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk. 1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones. 1 Gent. No more of that.

[Exit Procession, with a great flourish of Trumpets.

Enter a third GENTLEMAN. God save you, Sir! Where have you been broiling?

3 Gent. Among the crowd i'the abbey; where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gent. You saw

The ceremony?

3 Gent. That I did.

1 Gent. How was it?

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing. 2 Gent. Good Sir, speak it to us. 3 Gent. As well as I am able.

stream

The rich

Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, Sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their
[joy
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man
living
[woven
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were
So strangly in one piece.

faces

2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and,
saint-like,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd de-
[voutly.
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such em-
blems

Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent. Sir, you

Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall.
3 Gent. I know it;

But 'tis so lately alter'd, 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 preferr'd 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, [him. Cranner will find a friend will not shrink from 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell;

[truly

A man in much esteem with the king, and
A worthy friend.-The king
Has made him master o'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, and 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: [earth, Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair;-My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease. [me, Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st That the great child of honour, cardinal WolWas dead?

[sey,,

Grif. Yes, madam; but, I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,* he died: For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam: For after the stout earl Northumberland (As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer, Arrested him at York, and brought him forward He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, He could not sit his mule.

Kath. Alas! poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads,t he came to
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend
Leicester,
[abbot,
To whom he gave these words,-O father abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Give him a little earth for charity!

So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still; and, three nights after this,
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
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

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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 rais'd in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford! one‡ of which fell with
him,

Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd 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 he-
No other speaker of my living actions, [rald,
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,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sud and solemn music.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her;-Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six Personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of buys, or palm, in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverend court'sies; then the two that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of * Of the king. ↑ Ipswich

+ Formed for.

rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues. Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? Grif. Madam, we are here.

Kath. It is not you I call for: Saw ye none enter, since I slept? Grif. None, madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop

Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promis'd me eternal happiness;
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, [feel
Assuredly.

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good Possess your fancy.

Kath. Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note,

[dreams

[Music ceases.

How long her face is drawn? How pale she How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? looks,

And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes? Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray. Put. Heaven comfort her!

Enter a MESSENGER.

[ness,

Mess. An't like your grace,Kath. You are a saucy fellow: Deserve we no more reverence? Grif. You are to blame, Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatTo use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' My haste made me unmannerly: There is staypardon; [ing A gentleman, sent from the king to see you. Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt GRIFFITH and MESSENGER.

Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.

[peror,

If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the em
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.
Kath. O my lord,

The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray
What is your pleasure with me?

[you, Cap. Noble lady, [next, First, mine own service to your grace; the The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by Sends you his princely commendations, [me And heartily entreats you take good comfort. Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution: That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me; But now I am past all comforts here, bui How does his highness? [prayers.

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor

name

Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letI caus'd you write, yet sent away? ¡ter.

Sir Thomas!

Pat. No, madam. [Giring it to KATHARINE. | To waste these times.-Good hour of night, Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deThis to my lord the king. Cap. Most willing, madam.

[liver

Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter :+[her! The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature; I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,

Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition

Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long,
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him bet a noble ; And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them.

The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw them from me;— That they may have their wages duly paid them,

And something over to remember me by ; If Heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,

And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents:-And, good my lord,

By that you love the dearest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,

[king

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the To do me this last right.

Cap. By heaven, I will;

[me

Or let me loose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing [him,
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Fare-
well,

My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women.-When I am dead, good
wench,

Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may
know
[me,
I was a chaste wife to my grave:-embalm
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet
like

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading KATHARINE.
ACT V.

SCENE 1.-A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GARDINER Bishop of Winchester, a PAGE with a torch before him, met by Sir THOMAS

LOVELL.

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Whither so late?

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord? Gur. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero

With the duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I must to him too,

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's
the matter?

It seems you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that
walk

(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have In them a wilder nature, than the business That seeks despatch by day.

Lov. My lord, I love you;

And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour,

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.

Gar. The fruit, she goes with,

I pray for heartily; that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir
Thomas,

I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes.

Gur. But, Sir, Sir,

Hear me, Sir Thomas: You are a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;

And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,-
Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and
Sleep in their graves.
[she,

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for
Cromwell,-
[ter
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made mas-
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary: further,
Sir,
[ments,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preter-
With which the time will load him: The arch-

bishop

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak

One syllable against him?

[tur'd

Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare; and I myself have venTo speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,

Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd; the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence [moved,
That does infect the land: with which they
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mis-
chiefs
[manded,

Our reasons laid before him,) he hath com-
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir
Thomas,

And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest
your servant.

[Exeunt GARDINER and PAGE.

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K. Hen. What say'st thou? ha!
To pray for her? what, is she crying out?
Lov. So said her woman; and that her suf-
ferance made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen. Alas, good lady!

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chaff

And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious
[tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.

Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury;

[up; In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame, What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd

You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring toge-
ther
[you

Without indurance, further.

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen. "Tis midnight, Charles,
Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

Suf. I wish your highness

A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

K. Hen. Charles, good night.

Enter Sir ANTHONY DENNY.

Well, Sir, what follows?

Cran. Most dread liege,

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty;
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, [not,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weight
I fear nothing
Being of those virtues vacant.
What can be said against me.

[world?
K. Hen. Know you not how
Your state stands i'the world, with the whole
Your enemies

Are many, and not small; their practices
[Exit SUFFOLK. Must bear the same proportion: and not evert
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been
done.

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch-
As you commanded me.
[bishop,

K. Hen. Ha! Canterbury?
Den. Ay, my good lord.

K. Hen. Tis true: Where is he, Denny?
Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Bring him to us. [Exit DENNY.
Lov. This is about that which the bishop
spake;

I am happily come hither.

[Aside.

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.
K. Hen. Avoid the gallery.
[LOVELL seems to stay.
Ha! I have said.-Begone.
What!
[Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.
Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he
thus?

"Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire
to know

Wherefore I sent for you.
Cran. It is my duty,

To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. 'Pray you, arise,

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me
your hand,

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-
sider'd,

Have mov'd us, and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial, in those charges

You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great size. Weens you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran. God, and your majesty,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!

[to.

K. Hen. Be of good cheer;
They shall no more prevail, than we give way
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
You do appear before them; if they shall

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