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.

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: und 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
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, [feel
Assuredly.

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good Possess your fancy.

Kath. Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note,

[dreams

[Music ceases.

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. Put. 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, [ness, To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. Knowing, she will not lose her wonted great

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' My haste made me unmannerly: There is staypardon; [ing 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.

[peror,

If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the em-
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
What is your pleasure with me?

[you, Cap. Noble lady, [next, First, mine own service to your grace; the The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by Sends you his princely commendations, [me 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 How does his highness? [prayers.

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 let I caus'd you write, yet sent away? [ter,

Sir Thomas!

[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 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 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.

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

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.
[she,

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 brokens 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.

A game at cards. Told their minds.

+ Hint. Summoned.

‡ Set ag

(I speak it with a single heart,* my lords,)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lord-
ships,

That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be; you are a counsellor,

And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. Gar. My lord, because we have business of more moment,

We will be short with you. "Tis his highness'

pleasure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I
thank you,
[pass,
You are always my good friend; if your will
1 shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,
"Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me mo-
dest.

covers,

Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That's the plain truth; your painted gloss dis[ness. To men that understand you, words and weakCrom. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,

By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gar. Good master secretary,

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom. Why, my lord?

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ve are not sound.
Crom. Not sound?

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their

fears.

Gar. I shall remember this bold language. Crom. Do.

Remember your bold life too.

Chan. This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords.

Gar. I have done.

Crom. And I.

Chan. Then thus for you, my lord,-It stands agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;
There to remain, till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords?
All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?

** In singluness of heart. Acts 44

Gar. What other Would you expect? You are strangely troubleLet some o'the guard be ready there. [some! Enter Guard.

Cran. For me?

Must I go like a traitor thither?
Gar. Receive him,

And see him safe i'the Tower.
Cran. Stay, good my lords,

I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Cham. This is the king's ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

ye all,

Suf. "Tis the right ring, by heaven: I tola [ing, When we first put this dangerous stone a roll'Twould fall upon ourselves.

Nor. Do you think, my lords,
The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. 'Tis now too certain: How much more is his life in value with him? 'Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,

In seeking tales, and informations,
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,)

Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye.

Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his seat.

Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise, but most religious:
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgement comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden com-

mendations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence;
They are too thin and base to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win

standing

And wisdom, of my council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that title,)
This honest man, wait like a lowsy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my com
mission

Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom; There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mear
Which ye shall never have while