Enter a third Gentleman.

God fave you, Sir! Say, where have you been broiling?
3 Gen. Among the crowd i' th' abbey, where a finger
Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gen. You faw the ceremony?

3 Gen. I did.

1 Gen. How was it?

3 Gen. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gen. Good Sir, speak it to us.

3 Gen. As well as I am able. The rich ftream Of Lords and Ladies, 'having brought the Queen To a prepared place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her; while her Grace fat down
To reft a while, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of ftate, oppofing freely
The beauty of her person to the people;
(Believe me, Sir, fhe is the goodlieft woman
That ever lay by man;) which when the people
Had the full view of, fuch a noife arose
As the fhrowds make at fea in a stiff tempeft;
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces
Been loofe, this day they had been loft.
Such joy
I never faw before. Great-belly'd women,
That had not half a week to go,
like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the prefs,
And make it reel before 'em.

No man living

Could fay, This is my wife there, all were woven

So ftrangely in one piece.

2 Gen. But pray what follow'd?

3 Gen. At length her Grace rofe, and with modeft

paces

Came to the altar, where fhe kneel'd; and, faint-like,
Caft her fair eyes to heav'n, and pray'd devoutly:
Then rofe again, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury,
Sh' had all the royal makings of a Queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confeffor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all fuch emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,

With

With all the choiceft mufic of the kingdom,
Together fung Te Deum. So fhe parted,
And with the fame full ftate pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feaft is held.

1 Gen. You must no more call it Fork-place, that's past. For fince the Cardinal fell, that title's loft;

'Tis now the King's, and call'd Whitehall.

3 Gen. I know it:

But 'tis fo lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 Gen. What two reverend bishops

Were thofe that went on each fide of the Queen?

3 Gen. Stokely and Gardiner; the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the King's Secretary;

The other, London.

2 Gen. He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gen. All the land knows that:

However, yet there's no great breach; when't comes,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.

2 Gen. Who may that be, I pray you?

3

Gen. Thomas Cromwell,

A man in much efteem with th' King, and truly
A worthy friend. The King has made him
Mafter o' th' jewel-houfe,

And one, already, of the privy council.

2 Gen. He will deferve more.

3 Gen. Yes, without all doubt.

Come, Gentlemen, you shall both go my way,
Which is to the court, and there shall be my guests:
Something I can command; as I walk thither,

Enter Catharine dowager, fick, led between Griffith her
Gentleman-Ufher, and Patience her woman.

Grif. How does your Grace?

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death:

My legs, like loaded branches, bow to th' earth,

Willing

Willing to leave their burden.

Reach a chair

[Sitting down.

So —now methinks I feel a little ease.
Did'st thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey,
Was dead?

Grif. Yes, Madam; but I think your Grace,
Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to't.
Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd.
If well, he ftept before me happily,

For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, Madam.

For after the ftout Earl of Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (As a man forely tainted) to his anfwer,

He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill

He could not fit his mule.

Cath. Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads he came to Leicester;
Lodg'd in the abbey, where the Rev'rend 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 ftate,
• Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
'Give him a little earth for charity!'
So went to bed; where eagerly his fickness
Purfu'd him still, and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold fhould be his laft,) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and forrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His bleffed part to heav'n, and slept in peace.

Cath. "So may he reft, 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 ftomach; ever ranking "Himfelf with princes: one that, by fuggeftion, "Ty'd all the kingdom: fimony was fair play: "His own opinion was his law. I' th' prefence "He would fay untruths, and be ever double "Both in his words and meaning. He was never,

tie. Inflaved.

"But

But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.

"His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
"But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
"Of his own body he was ill †, and gave
"The clergy ill example."

Grif. Noble Madam,

Mens' evil manners live in brafs, their virtues

We write in water

May it please your Highness

To hear me speak his good now?

Cath. Yes, good Griffith,

I were malicious elfe.

Grif. This Cardinal,

Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
He was a fcholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wife, fair spoken, and perfuading;
Lofty and four to them that lov'd him not;
But to thofe men that sought him, sweet as fummer.
And though he were unfatisfy'd in getting,
(Which was a fin;) yet in beftowing, Madam,
He was most princely. Ever witnefs for him
Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
Ipfwich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it :
The other, though unfinish'd, yet fo famous,"
So excellent in art, and ftill fo rifing,
That Christendom fhall ever fpeak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happinefs 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 dy'd fearing God.
Cath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other fpeaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But fuch an honeft chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou haft made me,
With thy religious truth and modefty,
Now in his afhes honour. Peace be with him!
Patience, be near me still, and fet me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee.

Good Griffith,

tie. He abused his body by intemperance and luxury.

Caufe

KING HENRY VIII.

Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilft I fit meditating
On that celeftial harmony I go to.

Sad and folemn mufic.

337

Grif. She is afleep: good wench, let's fit down quiet For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. The vifion. Enter folemnly one after another, fix perfonages, 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 curtfies: then the two that held the garland, deliver the fame to the other next two; who obferve the fame order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the fame garland to the last two, who likewife obferve the fame order: (at which, as it were by infpiration, he makes in her fleep figns of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven.) And fo in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The mufic

continues.

Cath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Grif. Madam, we're here.

Cath. It is not you I call for;

Saw

ye none enter fince I flept?

Grif. None, Madam.

Cath. No? faw you not ev'n now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Caft thousand beams upon me, like the fun?
They promis'd me eternal happiness,

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which 1 feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I fhall affuredly.
Grif. I am moft joyful, Madam, fuch good dreams
Poffefs your fancy.

Cath. Bid the mufic leave,

'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note

[Mafic ceafes.

How much her Grace is alter'd on the fudden?

How long her face is drawn? how pale fhe looks,
And of an earthly cold? obferve her eyes.

Grif