As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
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.

First Gent.
But, sir,
You must no more call it York-place, that's past;
For, since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost:
'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.

Third Gent.

I know it.

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.-Kimbolton.

Enter KATHARINE, 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 ledd'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. Prithee, 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, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him ;

To whom he gave these words,—“ 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
Pursu'd 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
Tith'd all the kingdom: simony was fair-play;
His own opinion was his law: 'i the presence
He would say untruths; and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning: he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing:
Of his own body he was ill, and gave

The clergy ill-example.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues

We write in water. May it please your highness

To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.

I were malicious, else.

Grif.

Yes, good Griffith;

This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;

Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not;

But to those men that sought him sweet as 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 herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
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.

[Sad and solemn music. Grif. She is asleep good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her :-softly, gentle Patience.

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

Grif. Madam, we're here.

Kath.

Saw ye none enter since I slept?

Grif.

It is not you I call for :

None, madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not, even 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;

VOL. II

2 H

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 dreams Possess your fancy.

Kath.

Bid the music leave;

They're harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. [Aside to GRIF.]

[Music ceases.

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 earthy colour?

Mark her eyes!

Grif. [Aside to PAT.] She's going, wench: pray, pray. Pat. [Aside to GRIF.]

Heaven comfort her!

Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,

To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; My haste made me unmannerly. There's staying

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.

If my sight fail not,

You should be lord ambassador from th' emperor,

My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the same,-your servant.
Kath.

The times and titles now are alter'd strangely

With me since first you knew me.
What is your pleasure with me?

Cap.

O my lord,

But, I pray you,

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 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'm past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?

Сар.
Kath.

Madam, in good health. 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 letter,

I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat.

No, madam.

[Giving it to KATHARINE.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king ;

Cap.
Kath.

Most willing, madam.

In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter,—
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding :
She's 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 '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 by:
If heaven had pleas'd t' have given me longer life
And able means, we had not parted thus.