2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known
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 arch-
bishop
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.
2 Gent. Alas, good lady!—
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is
coming.
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively flourish of trumpets; then, enter 1. Two Judges.
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.
3. Choristers singing.
4. 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.
6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coro-
net 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 it, the Queen in her robe; in her
hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned.
On each side of her, the Bishops of Lon-
don and Winchester.
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.
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;
Our king has all the Indies in his arins,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady :
I cannot blame his conscience.
1 Gent. They, that bear
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 secing.
2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
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 awhile, 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 faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
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
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven
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.
So strangely in one piece.
2 Gent. But, 'pray, what followed?
3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
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 emblems
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.
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
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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. [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 led'st
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.
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;
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?
Kath. 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
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,
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.
Sad 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 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 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 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 feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,
Assuredly.
Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
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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.
Pat. Heaven comfort her!
Enter a Messenger.
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 greatness, To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying
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.
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
Sends you his princely commendations,
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, 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.
Cap. Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh
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 them,
And something over to remember me by:
If heav'n 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. Ithank 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.
çan no more.- [Exeunt, leading Katharine.
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
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.
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, ye speak of two The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master O'the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, With which the time will load him: The archbishop
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak
One syllable against him?
Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas,
There are, that dare; and I myself have ven
To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
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
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
À 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 mis-
chiefs
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;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
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
highness
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 suf-
ferance 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
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. 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,
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
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,
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: You a bro-
ther of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
Cran. I humbly thank your highness;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder; for, I know,
There's none stands under more calumnious
tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.
K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury;
Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up;
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 together
Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you
Without indurance further.
Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch- The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty.
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
K. Hen. Know you not how
Your state stands i'the world, with the whole
world?
Your enemies
Are many, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion: and not ever
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.
You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
|