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Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
But that I am bound in charity against it!
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's
But, thus much, they are foul ones.
I thank my memory, I yet remember
Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head.
First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.
Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub-
(By what means got, I leave to your own conscience,)
O my lord,
I forgive him.
Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure
This is my charge.
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations
Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwell?
How does your grace?
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right
Wol. I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
To endure more miseries, and greater far,
The heaviest, and the wo
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
O my lord, Must I then leave you? must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service; but my prayers For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.
Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee;
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not :
Yes; 'tis the list
The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those
I should have been beholden to your paper.
1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's my robe,
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Alas, good lady! [Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively flourish of Trumpets: then, enter
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before
3. Choristers singing.
Mayor of London bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and, on his head, a gilt copper crown.
5. 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.
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.
7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
paces Came to the altar: where she kneel'd, and, saint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — These I Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :
Who's that, that bears the scepter?
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
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.
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
They, that bear
2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
are near her.
finger Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy.
But, 'pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest
That I did.
How was it?
3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
Good sir, speak it to us.
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
I know it;
2 Gent. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen? 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of
The other, London.
He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
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 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.
Alas, poor man! Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
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: 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.
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?
Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else.
Grif. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd 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 lov'd 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 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 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,
Sad and solemn musick.
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 bays, 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 gar land 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 rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The musick continues.
Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ?
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy.
Kath. Bid the musick leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases. Pat. Do you note, How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, And of an earthly cold? Mark you her eyes? Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray. Heaven comfort her!
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?
No, madam. Giving it to KATHARINE. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Cap.
Most willing, madam. Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter: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; Ì hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GARDINER, 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. Gar. 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
Lov. I must to him too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. matter?
Thomas! Whither so late? Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord? Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero With the duke of Suffolk.
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
A right good husband, let him be a noble ;
It seems, you are in haste; an if there be
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
- Mine eyes grow dim.
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over