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Cath. Sir, I must humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the King.
Cap. Moft willing, Madam.
Catb. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chafte loves, his young daughter; (The dews of heav'n fall thick in bleffings on her!) Befeeching him to give her virtuous Breeding, (She's young, and of a noble modest nature; I hope, the will deferve well) and a little
To love her for her mother's fake, that lov'd him,
Heav'n knows, how dearly! my next poor petition
Is, that his noble Grace would have fome pity
Upon my wretched women, that fo 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, fure, thofe men are happy, that shall have 'em.
The laft is for my men; they are the pooreft,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me;
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
And fomething over to remember me.
If heav'n had pleas'd to've giv'n 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 with chriftian peace to fouls departed,
Stand thefe poor people's friend, and urge the King
To do me this last right.
Cap. By heav'n, I will;
Or let me lofe the fashion of a man!
Cath. I thank you, honeft lord. In all humility unto his Highness; And tell him, his long trouble now is paffing Out of this world. Tell him, in death I bleft him; For fo I will mine eyes grow dim. Farewel, My lord-Griffith, farewel-nay, Patience, You muft not leave me yet. I must to bedCall in more womenWhen I'm dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; ftrew me over
With maiden flow'rs, that all the world may know
I was a chafte wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although un-queen'd, yet
A Queen, and daughter to a King, interr me.
I can no more—
[Exeunt, leading Catharine.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Before the PALACE.
Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchefter, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.
Gard.T's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy. It hath ftruck.
Gard. These fhould be hours for neceffities,
Not for delights; times, to repair our nature
With comforting repofe, and not for us
To wafte these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas;
Whither fo late?
Lov. Came you from the King, my lord?
Gard. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at Primere
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I muft to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gard. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell; what's the
It feems, you are in hafte: And if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late bufinefs. Affairs, that walk
(As they fay, fpirits do,) at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
That feeks dispatch by day.
Lov. My lord, I love you:
And durft commend a fecret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The Queen's in la-
1. In them a wilder nature
They fay, in great extremity; 'tis fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.
Gard. The fruit fhe goes with
I pray for heartily, that it 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 (fweet lady) does
Deferve our better wishes.
Gard. But, Sir, Sir
Sir Thomas-You're a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wife; 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 fhe,
Sleep in their graves.
Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'th' kingdom; as for Cromwell,
Befide that of the jewel-houfe, he's made master
O'th' Rolls, and the King's Secretary: Further,
2 Stands in the gap and tread for more preferments,
With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop
Is the King's hand, and tongue; and who dare speak
One fyllable against him?
Gard. Yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I my felf have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him ; indeed, this day,
(Sir, I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'th' Council, that he is
(For fo I know he is, they know he is)
A moft arch heretick, a peftilence
That does infect the land; with which they mov'd,
Have broken with the King; who hath so far
Giv'n ear to our complaint, of his great Grace
And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reafons laid before him; he hath commanded,
To morrow morning to the council-board
Stands in the gap and TRADE for more preferments.] We should read TREAD, i. e. road.
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. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page. Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I reft your Ser[Exit Lovell.
Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter King and Suffolk.
HARLES, I will play no more to night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
King. But little, Charles;
Nor fhall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not perfonally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I fent your meffage; who return'd her thanks
In greatest humbleness, and begg'd your Highness
Moft heartily to pray for her.
King. What fay'ft thou! ha!
To pray for her! what! is fhe crying out?
Lov. So faid her woman, and that her fuff'rance made
Almoft each pang a death.
King. Alas, good lady!
Suf. God fafely quit her of her burthen, and
With gentle travel, to the gladding of
Your Highness with an heir!
King. 'Tis midnight, Charles;
Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
Th' eftate of my poor Queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Would not be friendly to.
Suf. I wish your Highness
A quiet night, and my good miftrefs will
Remember in my prayers.
King. Charles, a good night:
Well, Sir, what follows?
Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
Denny. Sir, I have brought my lord the Arch-
you commanded me.
King, Ha! Canterbury!
Denny. Yea, my good lord,
King. 'Tis true-where is he, Denny ?
Denny. He attends your Highnefs' pleasure.
King. Bring him to us.
Lov. This is about that, which the Bishop spake;
I am happily come hither.
Enter Cranmer and Denny.
King. Avoid the Gallery.
I have faid. be gone.
[Exeunt Lovell and Denny.
[Lovell feemeth to flay.
Cran. I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus ?
"Tis his afpect of terror.
All's not well.
King. How now, my lord? you do defire to know, Wherefore I fent for you. Cran. It is my duty
T'attend your Highness' pleasure.
King. Pray you, rise;
My good and gracious lord of Canterbury:
Come, you and I must walk a turn together:
I've news to tell you. Come, give me your hand,
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I fpeak;
And am right forry to repeat what follows.
I have, and moft unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do fay, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which being confider'd,
Have mov'd us and our Council, that you fhall