9. The old Dutchefs of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train. 10. Certain ladies or Counteffes, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

They pass over the stage in order and state, and then Exeunt, with a great flourish of trumpets.

2 Gen. A royal train, believe me; these I know; Who's that, who bears the Scepter?

I Gen. Marquefs Dorfet.

And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gen. A bold brave gentleman.

The Duke of Suffolk.

That should be

1 Gen. 'Tis the fame: High Steward. 2 Gen. And that my lord of Norfolk. I Gen. Yes.

2 Gen. Heav'n blefs thee !

Thou haft the sweetest face I ever look'd on.

Sir, as I have a foul, fhe is an angel;

Our King has all the Indies in his arms,

And more and richer, when he strains that lady:

I cannot blame his confcience.

I Gen. They, that bear

The cloth of ftate above her, are four barons

Of the Cinque-Ports.

2 Gen. Those men are happy; fo are all, are near her. I take it, fhe that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, the Dutchess of Norfolk.

I Gen. It is, and all the reft are Counteffes.

2 Gen. Their coronets fay fo. These are stars, indeed: And fometimes falling ones.

1 Gen. No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God fave you, Sir. Where have you been broiling? 3 Gen. Among the crowd i'th' Abby, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; I am ftifled,

With the meer ranknefs of their joy.

2 Gen. You faw the ceremony?

3 Gen. I did.

I Gen. How was it?

3

Gen. Well worth the feeing.

2 Gen. Good Sir, fpeak it to us.

3 Gen. As well as I am able. The rich ftream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her; while her Grace fate down
To reft a while, fome half an hour, or fo,
In a rich chair of ftate; oppofing freely
The beauty of her perfon to the people:
(Believe me, Sir, fhe is the goodlieft woman,
That ever lay by man ;) which when the people
Had the full view of, fuch a noise arose
As the fhrouds make at fea in a stiff tempeft,
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, 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 prefs,
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 modeft paces Came to the altar, where the 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 past. 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 fide of the Queen?
3 Gen. Stokefly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,
Newly preferr'd from the King's Secretary :
The other, London.

2 Gen. He of Winchester

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 fhall be my guests:
Something I can command; as I walk thither,

I'll tell ye more.

Both. You may command us, Sir.

SCENE changes to Kimbolton.

[Exeunt.

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

Grif. WOW does your Grace?

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death:
My legs, like loaded branches, bow to th' earth,
Willing to leave their burthen: reach a chair
So now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
Didft thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'ft me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey,

[Sitting down.

Was

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 ftept before me happily,

For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, Madam.

For after the ftout Earl of Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (27)
(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 laft, with eafie roads he came to Leicester;
Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the rev'rend Abbat,
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 ftate,
"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,

(27) Arrested him at York,] The Earl of Northumberland, and Sir Walter Walk, one of the King's Privy Chamber, arrested Wolfey of Treason, at his houfe at Cawood in Yorkshire on Friday the 4th of November 1530. On Sunday Evening following, in order to be brought up to London, he was remov'd to Pomfret; on Monday, to Doncafter; and on Tuesday, to the Earl of Shrewsbury's Seat at Sheffield-Park. Here he was indulg'd to stay upwards of a Fortnight; and here, on Tuesday the 22d, was feiz'd with his laft Illness. On Thurfday the 24th he began his Journey afresh, tho not recover'd of his Flux, and was carried to another House of the Lord Shrewsbury's call'd Hardwick Hall; the next day, to Notingham; and on Saturday Evening, in a languishing Condition was brought to the Abbey at Leicester. He immediately took his Bed, and on Tuesday following, being the 29th of November, and Eve of St. Andrew, expir'd there. This fhort Journal, of the last Stage in Life, of fo confiderable a Man, I have thought proper to trace backwards; as imagining, it might not be displeafing to certain curious Readers.

His

His bleffed part to heav'n, and slept in peace.

Cath. So may he reft, his faults lie gently on him! (28)
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet
with charity; he was a man

Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking
Himfelf 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.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble madam,

Mens evil manners live in brafs, their virtues
We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me speak his good now?

Cath. Yes, good Griffith,

I were malicious elfe.

Grif. This Cardinal, (29)

(28) His Faults lie buried with him!] This Reading was firft adopted by Mr. Rowe; all the old Copies have it, as I have reftor'd in the Text. The Poet feem'd to have in his Eye the cuftomary Wish among the Latins, Sit tibi terra levis! Which Beaumont and Fletcher have exprefs'd in their MAID's Tragedy;

Upon my buried Body lay lightly, gentle Earth! The oppofite to this Expreffion of our Poet's here, his Faults lie gently on him!-occurs frequently in Menace to Richard 3d, from the Ghofts of those whom he had murther'd:

Let me fit heavy on thy Soul to morrow!
Let us be laid within thy Bofom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to Ruin!

(29)
This Cardinal
Though from an humble Stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much Honour. From his Cradle

He was a Scholar, and a ripe, and good one ;] Thus this Paffage has hitherto been moft abfurdly pointed. That Wolfey fhould be a ripe Scholar from his Cradle, is most extraordinary and incredible. My Alteration of the Pointing, I dare be pofitive, gives us the Poet's Meaning; and expreffes that Character, which, Holingfbead tells us, Edmund Campian, in his Hiftory of Ireland, had given of the Cardinal, that he was a Man undoubtedly born to Honour.

2

Though