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And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them.

The last is, for my men ;-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me ;-
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If Heaven had pleased 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.

Cap.

By heaven, I will;

Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember

me

In all humility unto his highness:

Say, his long trouble now is passing

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 used with honour; strew me over
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. [Exeunt, leading Katharine.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-London. A Gallery in the
Palace.

Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him.

I

Gardiner.

IT'S one o'clock, boy, is't not?

Boy.

It hath struck.

Gar. 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.

Whither so late?

Lov.

Good hour of night, sir Thomas !

Came you from the king, my lord?

Gar.' I did, sir Thomas; and left him at

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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.

Lov.

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.

Gar.

The fruit she 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, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar.

But, sir, sir,Hear me, sir Thomas: you are a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, 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 she, Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, sir you speak' of two The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for

Cromwell,―

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of more prefer

ments,

With which the time will load him. The archbishop

Is the king's hand and tongue and who dare

speak

One syllable against him?

Gar.

Yes, yes, sir Thomas,

There are that dare; and I myself have ventured

To speak my mind of him : and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think I have
Insensed 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 moved

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,) he hath commanded,

To-morrow morning to the council-board

He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
And we must root him ont. From your affairs
I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas.
Lov. 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.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to
night;

My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;

Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.—
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desired your
highness

Most heartily to pray for her.

K. Hen.

What say'st thou ? ha!

To pray for her? what, is she crying out?

Lov. So said her woman; and that her suffer

ance made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen.

Alas, good lady!

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of

Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen.

'Tis midnight, Charles,

Pr'ythee to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.

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I wish your highness mistress will

Charles, good night. [Exit SUFFOLK.

Enter Sir ANTHONY DENNY.

Well, sir, what follows?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch

bishop,

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Lov. [aside.] This is about that which the

bishop spake ;

I am happily come hither.

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.

K. Hen.

Avoid the gallery.

[LOVELL seems to stay

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