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 led'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 suffer'd, gave no ear to't.
Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he
died:

If well, he stepp'd 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.2

Kath.

Alas! poor man!

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

Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd 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
Pursu'd 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
Ty'd 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:

4

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.

6

Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues

tragedies, and perhaps above any scene of any other
poet, tender and pathetic, without gods, or furies, or poi-
sous, or precipices, without the help of romantic cir-
cumstances, without improbable sallies of poetical la-
mentation, and without any throes of tumultuous mi.
sery.-Johnson.

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 lite:
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,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Happily is sometimes used by Shakspeare for hap-sage ly, peradventure; but it here more probably means op portunely.

May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?"

2 Cardinals generally rode on mules, as a mark per 9 This speech is formed on the following passage in haps of humility. Cavendish says that Wolsey rode Holinshed This cardinal (as Edmund Campion in like a cardinal sumptuously upon his mule, trapped al-his Historie of Ireland described him,) was a man untogether in crimson velvet and gilt stirrups.'

3 Roads, or rodes, here, is the same as courses, stages, or journeys. From whence also was formed out-rodes, in-rodes, &c.

doubtedly born to honour; I think (saith he) some prince's bastard, no butcher's sonne; exceeding wise, faire-spoken, high-minded, full of revenge, vitious of his bodie, loftie to his enemies, were they never so bigge, ful courteous; a ripe schooleman, thrall to affections, brought a bed with flatterie; insaciable to get, and more prince lie in bestowing, as appeareth by his two colleges at Ipswich and Oxenford, the one overthrown with his fall, the other unfinished, and yet as it lyeth, for an house of studentes (considering all the appur tenances) incomparable throughout Christendom.--He held and injoied at once the bishoprickes of Yorke, Duresme, and Winchester, the dignities of lord cardinall, Suggestion here, I think, means wicked prompting.legatt, and chancellor, the abbie of St. Albans, diverse It is used in this sense in The Tempest. I have no doubt priories, sundrie fat benefices in commendam; a great that we should read tyth'd instead of ty'd, as Dr. Far- preferrer of his servants, an advauncer of learing, mer proposed, and as the passage quoted from Holin-toute in every quarrel, never happy till this his over. shed warrants. The word tythes was not exclusively used to signify the emoluments of the clergy.

4 i. e. of unbounded pride or haughtiness. Thus Ho-to those that accepted and sought his friendship wonderlinshed: This cardinal was of a great stomach, for he computed himself equal with princes, and by crafty suggestions got into his hands innumerable treasure: he forced little on simony, and was not pitifull, and stood affectionate in his own opinion: in open presence he would lie and seie untruth, and was double both in speech and meaning: he would promise much and perform little he was vicious of his bodie, and gave the clergie evil example.' Ed. 1587, p. 922.

6 To be ill, evil, or naught of body, was to be addicted to women: to be lewd in life and manners.

7 This passage has been absurdly pointed in all the modern editione :

throw; wherein he shewed such moderation, and ended so perfectlie, that the houre of his death did him more honour than all the pomp of his life passed.' We have a similar thought in Macbeth :-

nothing in his life

Became him like the leaving it.'

that held the garland, deliver the same to the other | Sends you his princely commendations, next two, who observe the same order in their And heartily entreats you take good comfort. changes, and holding the garland over her head: Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too which done, they deliver the same garland to the late; last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which (as it were by inspiration) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music con

Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger.
Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUcius.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
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 you,
What is your pleasure with me?
Cap.

Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me

1 Gray had probably this passage in his mind when he made his Bard exclaim on a similar occasion:Stay, O stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn.' 2 Queen Katharine's servants, after the divorce at Dunstable, and the Pope's curse stuck up at Dunkirk, were directed to be sworn to serve her not as queen but as princess dowager. Some refused to take the oath, and so were forced to leave her service; and as for those who took it and stayed, she would not be served by them, by which means she was almost destitute of attendants. See Hall's Chronicle, fol. 219. Bishop Burnet says that all the women about her still called her queen. Hist. of the Reformation, p. 162.

3 perceiving hirselfe to waxe verie weake and feeble, and to feele death approaching at hand, caused one of hir gentle women to write a letter to the king,

'Tis like a pardon after execution:
That gentle physic given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?
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 letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. No, madam. [Giving it to KATHARINE.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.3
Cap.
Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh-

ter: 5

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!--
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 be 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 then
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,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.

Cap.
By heaven, I will;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness;

Say, his long trouble now is passing

Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
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
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
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.

commending to him hir daughter and his, beseeching him to stand good father unto hir; and further desired him to have consideration of hir gentlewomen that had served hir, and to see them bestowed in marriage. Further, that it would please him to appoint that hir servants might have their due wages, and a yeares wages beside.' Holinshed, p. 939. This letter probably fell into the hands of Polydore Virgil, who was then in England, and has preserved it in the twenty-seventh book of his history. Lord Herbert has given a translation of it in his History of King Henry VIII.

4 Model, it has been already observed, signified, in the language of our ancestors, a representation or image. Thus in The London Prodigal, 1609 :-'Dear copy of my husband! O let me kiss thee!' [Kissing a picture

6 Afterwards Queen Mary. 6 Even if he should be

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GAR-
DINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a
Torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy.
It hath struck.
Gur. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights: times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.-Good hour of night, Sir
Thomas!

Whither so late?
Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at pri-
mero2

With the duke of Suffolk.

Lov.
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved,
Have broken with the king; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded
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.

As LOVELL is going out, enter the King, and the
DUKE of SUFFOLK.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;

Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.

matter?

It seems, you are in haste: an if there he

No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that

walk

Gar.

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 she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-
weil,-

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: fur her, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him: The arch-

bishop

Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message: who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high

ness

Most heartily to pray for her.

K. Hen.

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

Almost each pang a death."

K. Hen.
Alas, good lady!
Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
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
Would 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.—
[Exit SUFFOLK.

Enter SIR ANTONY DENNY.10

Well, sir, what follows?

Den. I have brought my lord the archbishop,

As you commanded me.

K. Hen.

Den. Ay, my good lord.

K. Hen.

Ha! Canterbury?

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 :

Is the king's hand and tongue; And who dare I am happily come hither. speak

One syllable against him?

Gar.

Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd
To 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)

The de

1 Gardiner himself is not much delighted. lights at which he hints seem to be the king's diversions, which keep him in attendance.

2 Primero, prime, or primavista. A game at cards, gaid by some writers to be one of the oldest known in England. It is described by Duchat in his notes on Rabelais, Mr. Daines Barrington in the Archæologia, vol. viii. p. 132, and more fully by Mr. Nares in his Glossary, and in an Essay on the Origin of Playing Cards, 1816, to which our limits oblige us to refer the reader desirous of further information.

3 i. e. some hint of the business that keeps you awake so late.

Of mine own opinion in religion.

5 i. e. course or way. Iter pro incepto et instituto, away, trade or course.-Cooper.

• Incene'd or insensed in this instance, and in some

others, only means instructed, informed: still in use in
Staffordshire. It properly signifies to infuse into the
mind, to prompt or instigate. Invidia stimulo mentes
Patrum fodit Saturnia: Juno incenseth the senators'
minds with secret envy against,' &c.-Cooper.
7 That is, have broken silence; told their minds to
the king.

8 i. e. summoned, convened.

9 We have almost the same sentiment before in Act
ii. Sc. 3:-
it is a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.'

10 The substance of this and the two following scenes
is taken from Fox's Acts and Monuments of the Chris-
tian Martyrs, &c. 1533

11 i. e. luckily, opportunely. Vias nʊve i, p. 146.

1

K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties

He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!
I swear, he is true hearted; and a soul
None better in my kingdom.-Get you gone,

I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me And do as I have bid you.-[Exit CRANMER.]
your hand.
He has strangled

That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me Your state stands i' the world, with the whole world? To make great haste. All fast? what means this?Your enemies are many, and not small: their prac-Who waits there?-Sure you know me?

K. Hen.

Enter, at a Window above,' the King and Burrs.
Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight,-
What's that, Butts?
Butts. I think your highness saw this many a day.
K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it?
Butts.
There, my lord:
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,
Pages, and footboys.
K. Hen.
Ha! "Tis he, indeed:
Is this the honour they do one another?

'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought
They had parted so much honesty among them
(At least, good manners) as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:
Let them alone, and draw the curtain close;"
We shall hear more anon.-

THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.

[Exeunt.

Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary:
Why are we met in council?
Crom.
Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.
Gar. Has he had knowledge of it?
Crom.

Nor.

Yes.

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?
Gar.

Yes.

To one man's honour) this contagious sickness,
Farewell, all physic: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Of the whole state: as of late days, our neighbours,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

6

Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
And with no little study, that my teaching,
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely; and the end
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,)
Was ever, to do well: nor is there living
A man, that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
"Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf.
Nay, my lord,
That cannot be; you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.

Gar. My lord, because we have business of more
moment,

We will be short with you. "Tis his highness'
pleasure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

I

Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank
you,

Who waits there? You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,
"Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your callin makes me modest.

D. Keep.
My lord archbishop;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chan. Let him come in.
D. Keep.
Your grace may enter now.4
[CRANMER approaches the Council-table.
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty: But we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap-

lains

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions, Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those that tame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our easiness, and childish pity

Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gar.

Good master secretary,

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom.
Why, my lord?
Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.

Crom.

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Not sound?

and stooles and placed under the state. Our ancestors were contented to be told that the same spot, without any change of its appearance (except perhaps the drawing back of a curtain) was at once the outside and the inside of the council chamber. The modern reader will easily conceive how this scene might now be represented on the stage, who has witnessed some of the ingenious and prompt scenes of metamorphoses by that admirable comedian Matthews.

1 The suspicious vigilance of our ancestors contrived windows which overlooked the insides of chapels, halls, kitchens, passages, &c. Some of these convenient peepholes may still be seen in colleges, and such ancient houses as have not suffered from the reformations of modern architecture. In a letter from Matthew Parker, archbishop of Canterbury, 1573, printed in Seward's Anecdotes, vol. iv. p. 270, ed. 1796:-And if it please her majestie, she may come in through my gallerie, and see the disposition of the hall in dynner 5 Capable of our flesh,' probably means 'suscepti time, at a window opening thereinto. Without a pre-ble of the failings inherent in humanity.' vious knowledge of this custom Shakspeare's scenery in the present instance would be obscure.

2 i. e. shared, possessed.

3 That is, the curtain of the balcony or upper stage, where the king now is. See Malone's Account of the early English Stage, vol iii. of the late edition by Mr. Boswell. 4 The old stage direction at the commencement of this scene is 'A councell table brought in with chayres

6 Alluding to the heresy of Thomas Muntzer, which sprung up in Saxony in the years 1521 and 1522.

7. i. e. without duplicity or guile. Thus in Acts, ii. 46, In singleness of heart. I have before had occasion to observe that single and simple were synonymous. 9 Those that understand you, under this painted gloss, this fair outside, discover your empty talk and your false reasoning.