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Patience, be near me still, and set me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffithi
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell ; whilft I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and solemn musick.
Grif. She is asleep: good wench let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
The Vifton. Enter folemnly one after another, six per-

sonages, 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 forft two hold a spare garland over her head, at whicle the other four make reverend curtfies. 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 bry inspiration, she makes in her seep signs of rojoycing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven. And so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The musick continues,

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

Grif. Madam, we're here:

Kath. It is not you I call for, Saw ye none enter since I Nept?

Grif. None, madam.

Kath. No! saw you not ev'n now a blessed 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 molt joyful, madam, such good dreams

Poffels

Poffers your fancy

Kath. Bid the musick leave, 'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

[Mufick ceases.
Pat. Do you note
How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden ?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold? observe her eyes.

Grif. She is going, wench. Pray, pray,
Pat. Heay'n comfort her.

Enter a Messenger.
Mes. And't like your Grace-

Kath. You are a fawcy fellow,
Deserve we no more rev'rence ?

Grif. You're to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatnefs,
To use lo rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.

Mes. I humbly do intreat your Highness' pardon:
My hafte made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman sent from the King

Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this fellow Let me ne'er fee again.

[Exit Messenger. Enter Lord Capucius. If my fight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the Emperor, 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 inc. But I pray you,
What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble lady,
First mine own service to your Grace, the next
The King's request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his Princely commendations,
And heartily intreats you take good comfort.

Kath, Oʻmy good lord, that comfort comes too late, Tis like a pardon after execution ;

D 2

That

see you.

That gentle physick giv’n in time had cur'd me;
But now I'm past all comforts here but prayers.
How does his Highness?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he ever do, and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banilh'd the Kingdom. Patience, is that letter I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. No, madam.

Kath. Sir, I must humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the King.

Cap. Most willingly, madam. Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter, ( The dews of heav'n fall thick in blessings on her!) Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding, (She's young, and of a noble modeft nature, I hope she will deserve well) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him Heav'n 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 lye) but well deserve, For virtue and true beauty of the foul, For honesty and decent carriage, A right good husband, let him be a noble : And Yure thole men are happy that shall have 'em The last is for my men ; they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw 'em from me; That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, And something over to remember me. If heaven had pleas'd to've giv'n me longer life And able means, we had not parted thus. Thele are the whole contents. And good my lorth, By that you love the deareft in this world, As you wish christian peace to souls departed, Stand these poor peoples friend, and urge the King To do me this last right.

Cap.

Cap. By heav'n I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man,

Kath. I thank you, honeft lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highness;
And tell him, his long trouble now is palling
Out of this world. Tell hiin, in death I blest him;
For so I will mine eyes grow dim. Farewel,
My lord-

-Griffith farewelnay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed.
Call in more women -- When I'm dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour, strew me over
With maiden flow'rs, that all the world

may
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although un-queen'd, yet like
A Queen and daughter to a King, inter me.
I can no more

(Exeunt, leading Katharine,

know

ACTV. SCENE. I.

Enter Gardener Bishop of Winchester, a page with

torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.

GARDINER.

nature

T's one a clock, boy, is't not?
Bay. It hath ftruck.
Gard. There should be hours for new

ceflities,

Not for delights; times to repair ous With comforting repose, and not for us To wate these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas, Whither so late ?

Lov. Came you from the King, my lord?

Gard. I did, Sir Thomas, left him at Primero With the Duke of Suffolk.

Loo

D 3

Lov. I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gard, Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell ; what's the marter?
It seems you are in hafte: And 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 chem a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.

Lov. My lord, I love you: And durft commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this word. The Queen's in labour, They say in great extremity, 'tis fear'd She'll with the labour end. Gard. The fruit she

goes

with
I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas
I wilh 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
Deserye our better wilhes.

Gard. But Sir, Sir
Hear me, Sir Thomasy'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 the,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd 'i'th' kingdom; as for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
O'th' Rolls, and the King's Secretary. Further,
Stands in the gap and trade for more preferments,
With which the time will load him. Th’ Arch-bishop
Is the King's hand, or tonguc, and who dare speak
Onc fyllable against him?

Gard. Yes, Sir Thomas;
There are that dare; and I my self have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him ; indeed this day,

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