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

2 What two Reverend Byshops

Were those that went on each side of the Queene?

3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary: The other London.

2 He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of the Archbishops,
The vertuous Cranmer.

3 All the Land knowes that:

151

How ever, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him. 2 Who may that be, I pray you.

3 Thomas Cromwell,

A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly

A worthy Friend.

The King ha's made him

Master o'th' Jewell House,

And one already of the Privy Councell.

2 He will deserve more.

3 Yes without all doubt.

Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way,

160

Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests:

150. Stokeley: Stokesly-4F.

162-3. 2 ll. ending master, jewelhouse-CAMBRIDGE.

167-8. 2 ll. ending which, guests-CAPELL.

Scena Secunda.

[Kimbolton.]

Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her Gentleman Usher, and Patience

ber Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace?

Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death:

My Legges like loaden Branches bow to' th' Earth,
Willing to leave their burthen: Reach a Chaire,
So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease.

Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, 10
That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey
Was dead?

Grif. Yes Madam: but I thanke your Grace Out of the paine you suffer'd, gave no eare too't. Kath. Pre' thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. If well, he stept before me happily

For my example.

Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,

For after the stout Earle Northumberland

Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward

As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer,
He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his Mule.

Kath. Alas poore man.

20

Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, 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 stormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:

13. thanke: think-2-4F.

30

Give him a little earth for Charity.

So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse
Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this,
About the houre of eight, which he himselfe
Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance,
Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes,
He gave his Honors to the world agen,
His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest,

His Faults lye gently on him:

Yet thus farre Griffith, give me leave to speake him,
And yet with Charity. He was a man

Of an unbounded stomacke,1 ever ranking
Himselfe with Princes.

One that by suggestion

40

1 pride

Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play,
His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double
Both in his words, and meaning. He was never
(But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.
His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty:
But his performance, as he is now, Nothing:
Of his owne body he was ill, and gave
The Clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble Madam:

Mens evill manners, live in Brasse, their Vertues

50

We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse

To heare me speake his good now?

Kath. Yes good Griffith,

I were malicious else.

Grif. This Cardinall,

Though from an humble Stocke, undoubtedly

Was fashion'd to much Honor.

39-40. I 1.-POPE.

60

From his Cradle

62. Honor. From bis Cradle: honour from his cradle.-THEOBALD.

He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one:
Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading:
Lofty, and sowre 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 sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam,
He was most Princely: Ever witnesse for him
Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you, 70
Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good that did it.
The other (though unfinish'd) yet so Famous,
So excellent in Art, and still so rising,

That Christendome shall ever speake his Vertue.
His Overthrow, heap'd Happinesse upon him:
For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe,
And found the Blessednesse of being little.
And to adde greater Honors to his Age

Then man could give him; he dy’de, fearing God. 80
Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald,
No other speaker of my living Actions,
To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,
But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated Living, thou hast made mee
With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie,
(Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him.
Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower,
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the Musitians play me that sad note
I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating
On that Cœlestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and solemne Musicke.

90

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision.

Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, and golden Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes | or Palme in their hands. They first Conge unto her, then | Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first two hold a spare | Garland over her Head, at which the other foure make re- | verend Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same or- | der 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 by inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of rejoycing, and holdeth up her bands to heaven. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. | The Musicke continues.

III

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leave me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye? Grif. Madam, we are heere.

Kath. It is not you I call for,

Saw ye none enter since I slept?
Grif. None Madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not even now a blessed Troope

Invite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces

Cast thousand beames upon me, like the Sun?
They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,
And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele
I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly.

102-3. reverend: reverent-MALone Var.

120