3. Choristers singing.

[Musick. 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 scepter of gold, on his

head, a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crown'd with an earl's coronet. Col

lars 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. 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 Dutchess 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 scepter? 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.

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 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, Is that old noble lady, dutchess 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 croud i' the abbey; where

a finger Could not be wedg’d in more; and I am stified With the mere rankness of their joy.

i 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 faces Been loose, this day they had been löst. Such joy I never saw before. Great-belly'd 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 Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece. 2 Gent.

But, 'pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with mo

dest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint

like, 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;

Sir, you

As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Lay'd nobly on her: which perforin'd, the choir,
With all the choicest musick 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.

i Gent.
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.
S 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 Win

chester,
(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, 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.

2 Gent. He will deserve more.
S 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.

KIM BOLTON.

1

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 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,
For my example.
Grif.

Well, the voice goes, madam:
For after the stout earl Northumberland