Been loofe, this day they had been loft. Such joy
I never faw 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 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could fay, this is my wife there, all were woven
So ftrangely in one piece.

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

3 Gen. At length her Grace rofe, and with modest paces

Came to the altar, where fhe kneel'd; and, faint-like,
Caft her fair eyes to heav'n, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rofe again, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury,
Sh' had all the royal makings of a Queen:
As holy oil, Edward Confeffor's Crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all fuch emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choiceft mufick of the kingdom,
Together fung Te Deum. So fhe parted,
And with the fame full ftate pac'd back again
To York-Place, where the feaft is held.

1 Gen. You must no more call it York-Place, that's

paft.

For fince the Cardinal fell, that title's loft,

'Tis now the King's, and call'd Whitehall.
3 Gen. I know it:

But 'tis fo lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 Gen. What two reverend bishops

Were thofe, that went on each side of the Queen ?

3 Gen. Stokely and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,Newly preferr'd from the King's Secretary:

The other, London.

2 Gen. He of Winchefter

Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gen. All the land knows that :

However, yet there's no great breach; when't comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not fhrink from him. 2 Gen. Who may that be, I pray you ?

3 Gen. Thomas Cromwell,

A man in much efteem with th' King, and, truly,
A worthy friend. The King has made him
'Master o'th' jewel-house,

And one, already, of the privy-council.
2 Gen. He will deferve more.

3 Gen. Yes, without all doubt.

Come, gentlemen, you fhall go my way,

Which is to th' Court, and there shall be my guests:
Something I can command; as I walk thither,

I'll tell

ye more.

T

Both. You may command us, Sir.

SCENE II.

Changes to Kimbolton.

[Exeunt.

Enter Catharine Dowager, fick, led between Griffith her gentleman ufher, and Patience her woman.

Grif.

W does your Grace?

How

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death: My legs, like loaded branches, bow to th' earth, Willing to leave their burthen: reach a chairnow, methinks, I feel a little ease.

So

[Sitting down Didft thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'ft me, That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey, Was dead?

Grif. Yes, Madam; but I think, your Grace, Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to't. Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd. If well, he stept before me happily,

For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice

goes, Madam.

For after the ftout Earl of Northumberland

Arrefted him at York, and brought him forward (As a man forely tainted) to his answer,.

He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill

He could not fit his mule.

Cath. Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with eafie roads he came to Leicester;

Lodg'd

Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the rev'rend Abbot, With all his Convent, honourably receiv'd him; To whom he gave these words, O father Abbot, 'An old man, broken with the ftorms 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 fickness Purfu'd him still, and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, (which he himself Foretold, should be his laft) full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears and forrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His bleffed part to heav'n, and slept in peace. Cath. "So may he reft, 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 ftomach, ever ranking
"Himself with Princes: one, that by fuggeftion
"Ty'd all the kingdom; fimony was fair play:
"His own opinion was his law. I'th' Prefence
"He would fay 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 now is, nothing.

2 Of his own body he was ill, and gave

"The clergy ill example."

Grif. Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass, their virtues

I Loom One, that by fuggeftion

Ty'd all the kingdom;] i. e. by giving the King pernicious counfel, he ty'd or enflaved the kingdom. He ufes the word here with great propriety, and feeming knowledge of the Latin tongue. For the late Roman writers, and their gloffers, agree to give this fenfe to it: SUGGESTIO eft cum magiftratus quilibet principi falubre confilium fuggerit. So that nothing could be feverer than this reflexion, that that wholfom counfel, which it is the minifter's duty to give his prince, was fo empoifoned by him, as to produce flavery to his country. Yet all this fine fenfe vanifhes inftantaneously before the touch of the Oxford Editor, by his happy thought of changing Ty'd into Tytb'd.

2 Of bis own body he was ill,-] i. e. he abused his body by intemperance and luxury.

We

We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me fpeak his good now?
Cath. Yes, good Griffith,

I were malicious elfe.

Grif. This Cardinal,

Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour, from his cradle;
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wife, fair fpoken, and perfuading;
Lofty and four to them, that lov'd him not:
But to thofe men, that fought him, sweet as fummer.
And though he were unfatisfy'd in getting,
(Which was a fin) yet in beftowing, Madam,
He was moft princely: Ever witness for him
Thofe twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
Ipfwich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good he did it :
The other, though unfinish'd, yet fo famous,
So excellent in art, and ftill fo rifing,
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 bleffedness of being little :
And to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he dy'd, fearing God.
Cath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But fuch an honeft chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou haft made me,
With thy religious truth and modefty,

Now in his afhes honour. Peace be with him!
Patience, be near me ftill, and fet me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Caufe the muficians play me that fad note,
I nam'd my knell! whilft I fit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and folemn mufick.

Grif. She is afleep: good wench, let's fit down quiet, For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The

The vifion. Enter folemnly one after another, fix perfo nages, 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 firft 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 curtfies. Then the two, that held the garland, deliver the fame to the other next two; who obferve the fame order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: Which done, they deliver the fame garland to the last two, who likewife obferve the fame order: (At which, as it were by infpiration, she makes in her fleep figns of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven.) And fo in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The mufick continues.

Cath. Spirits of peace; where are ye? are ye gone ? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? Grif Madam, we're here.

Cath. It is not you I call for ;

Saw ye none enter, fince I slept ?
Grif. None, Madam.

Cath. No faw you not ev'n now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whofe bright faces
Caft thousand beams upon me, like the fun?
They promis'd me eternal happiness

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I fhall affuredly.
Grif. I am moft joyful, Madam, such good dreams
Poffefs your fancy.

Cath. Bid the mufick leave,

'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note,

[Mufick ceafes.

How much her Grace is alter'd on the fudden?

How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold? obferve her eyes.
Grif. She is going, wench. Pray, pray,-
Pat. Heav'n comfort her!

Enter