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. 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 London 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. 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. 2 Gent. Yes. 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 arms, 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, 1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 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 croud i'the abbey; where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled 2 Gent. You saw How was it? Good sir, speak it to us. 3 Gent. Well worth the seeing. 2 Gent. 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, fel! off A distance from her; while her grace sat down Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece. But, pray, what follow'd? 2 Gent. 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 devoutly, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems, 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, 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 Has made him master o'the jewel-house, And one, already, of the privy-council. 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. [Exe. SCENE II-Kimbolton. Enter Katharine, dow ager, sick; led between Griffith and Patience. Grif. How does your grace? Kath. Ŏ, 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 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,2 For my example. Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : For after the stout earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (1) This scene is above any other part of Shakspeare's tragedies, and perhaps above any scene of any other poet; tender and pathetic, without gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices; without the help of romantic circumstances, without improbable sallies of poetical lamentation, and without any throes of tumultuous misery. JOHNSON. (2) Haply. (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 Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, So went to bed where eagerly his sickness Of an unbounded stomach,2 ever ranking His promises were, as he then was, mighty; The clergy ill example. Grif gave 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. Yes, good Griffith; 1) By short stages. (2) Pride. (3) Of the king. |