She is 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 to have given 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 wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
To do me this last right.

Capucius.

By heaven, I will, Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Katherine. I thank you, honest lord.

In all humility unto his highness;
Say his long trouble now is passing

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150

Remember me

160

Out of this world; tell him in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,

My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,

You must not leave me yet: I must to bed;

Call in more women.-When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
I

With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.-

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[Exeunt, leading Katherine

SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace.

Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch

before him.

Gardiner. It's one o'clock, boy, is 't not?

It hath struck

Boy.
Gardiner. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us

To waste these times.

Enter SIR THOMAS LOVEll.

Good hour of night, Sir Thomas,

Whither so late?

Came you from the king, my lord?

Lovell.

Gardiner. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero. With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lovell.

I must to him too,

What's the mat

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gardiner. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell.

ter?

It seems you are in haste; an 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 them a wilder nature than the business

That seeks dispatch by day.

Lovell.

My lord, I love you,

And durst commend a secret to your ear,

Much weightier than this work. The queen 's in labour,
They say, in great extremity, and fear'd

She'll with the labour end.

Gardiner.

The fruit she goes with

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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.

Lovell.

Methinks I could

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

Gardiner.

But, sir, sir,

Hear me, Sir Thomas: you 're a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,

'T will not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me,

30

Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lovell.

Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him. The archbishop
Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak
One syllable against him?

Gardiner.

Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that dare, and I myself have ventur’d

To speak my mind of him; and, indeed, this day-
Sir, I may tell it you, I think—I have

Incens'd the lords o' the council that he is

For so I know he is, they know he is

A most arch heretic, a pestilence

That does infect the land; with which they mov'd
Have broken with the king, who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint-of his great grace
And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him-hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board

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.

Lovell. Many good nights, my lord. I rest your servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

As LOVELL is going out, enter the King and the DUKE OF SUFFOLK.

King Henry. Charles, I will play no more to-night:

My mind 's not on 't; you are too hard for me.

Suffolk. Sir, I did never win of you before.
King Henry. But little, Charles ;