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In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;

And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention [thee, Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. [it.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that
hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty,
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

silence envious tongues. Be just, and
fear not:

1 Gent. Yes; 'tis the list Of those, that claim their offices this day, By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk, He to be earl marshal; you may read the rest. 2 Gent. I thank you, Sir; had I not known those customs,

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 archbishop

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.

[Trumpets.

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 Two Judges.

[try's,

et all the ends, thon aim'st at, be thy counThy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,

1.

2.

The Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace

3.

before him. Choristers singing.

[Music.

4.

my robe,

5.

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And, Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny: 'tis the king's
And my integrity to heayen, is all
I dare now call mine own.
Cromwell,

O Cromwell,

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Crom. Good Sir, have patience.
Wol. So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

ACT IV.

Mayor of London bearing the mace.

Then

Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head, a gilt copper crown.

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 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. 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.

[Exeunt.

7.

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Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that
I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent. They, that bear

[lady:

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 seeing.

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 a while, 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
[joy
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such
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
[woven
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were
So strangly in one piece.

faces

2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and,
saint-like,
[voutly.
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd de-
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 em-
blems

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.
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, The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent. All the land knows that: However, yet there's no great breach; when it comes, [hina.

Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell;

[truly

A man in much esteem with the king, and
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.

1

Both. You may command us, Sir. [Exeunt.

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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,t he came to Leicester,

[abbot,
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave these words,一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
Pursued 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

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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 he-
No other speaker of my living actions, [rald,
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.

Sud 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 buys, 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 Ipswich

*Of the king.

+ Formed for.

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 bless-
ed 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
Possess your fancy.
[dreams

Kath. Bid the music leave,

They are harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note,

[Music ceuses.

How long her face is drawn? How pale she
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?

looks,

And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?
Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.
Pat. Heaven comfort her!

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Pat. No, madam. [Giring it to KATHARINE. | To waste these times.-Good hour of night, Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deThis to my lord the king. Cap. Most willing, madam.

[liver

Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:+[her!The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on 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 bet 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 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, [king

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the To do me this last right.

Cap. By heaven, I will;

[me

Or let me loose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing [him,
Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Fare-
well,

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
[me,
I was a chaste wife to my grave:-embalm
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.
ACT V.

SCENE 1.—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

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Sir Thomas! Whither so late?

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord? Gur. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero*

With the duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's
the matter?

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 Much weightier than this work." The queen's in labour,

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
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.

Gur. 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 Sleep in their graves. Ishe,

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Cromwell, [ter Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made masO' the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, Sir, [ments, Stands in the gap and trade of more preferWith 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, [tur'd There are that dare; and I myself have venTo 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,)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence [moved,
That does infect the land: with which they
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
[manded,

Our reasons laid before him,) he hath com-
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.

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As LOVELL is going out, enter the KING, and | Which will require your answer, you must take the Duke of SUFFOLK. Your patience to you, and be well contented To make your house our Tower: You a brother of us,*

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more tonight;

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?

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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!

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

Crun. 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.

Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted
K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury;

[up; In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand 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 [you

Without indurance, further.

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard 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.

[Exit SUFFOLK.

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Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER. K. Hen. Avoid the gallery. [LOVELL seems to stay. Ha! I have said.-Begone. What! [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY. 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,

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together;
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

Cran. Most dread liege,

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty; If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, [not, Will triumph o'er my person; which I weight Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me.

[world?

K. Hen. Know you not how
Your state stands i'the world, with the whole
Your enemies

Are many, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion: and not evert
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
Of as great size. Weens you of better luck,
I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran. God, and your majesty,
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!'

[to.

K. Hen. Be of good cheer; They shall no more prevail, than we give way Keep comfort to you; and this morning see You do appear before them; if they shall

chance,

In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring

Deliver them, and your appeal to us [weeps!
There make before them.-Look, the good man
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,
And do as I have bid you.-[Exit CRANMER.]
He has strangled

His language in his tears.

Enter an old LADY.

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