So went to Bed; where eagerly his Sickness
Purfu'd him ftill, and three Nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold thould be his laft, full of Repentance,
Continual Meditations, Tears and Sorrows,
his Honours to the World again,
His bleffed part to Heaven, and flept in Peace.
Kath. So may he reft,
His faults lay bury'd with him.
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with Charity; he was a Man
Of an unbounded Stomach, ever ranking
Himself with Princes. One that by Suggeftion
Ty'd all the Kingdom; Simony 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.
Mens evil Manners live in Brafs, their Virtues
We write in Water. May it pleafe your Highness
To hear me speak his Good now?
Kath. Yes, good Griffith,
I were malicious elfe.
Grif. This Cardinal,
Though from an humble Stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much Honour.
He was a Scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wife, fair fpoken, and perfuading?
Lofty and four to them that lov'd him not;
But to thofe Men that fought him, fweet as Summer.
And though he were unfatisfied in getting,
Which was a Sin, yet in beftowing, Madam,
He was moft Princely; ever witnefs for him
Those twins of Learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipfwich and Oxford; one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good that did it.
The other, though unfinish'd, yet fo famous,
So excellent in Art, and ftill fo rifing,
That Christendom fhall ever speak his Virtue.
His Overthrow heap'd Happiness upon him;
For then, and not 'till then, he felt himself,
And found the Bleffednefs of being little.
And to add greater Honours to his Age
Than Man could give him; he dy'd, fearing God.
Kath. After my Death, I with no other Herald,
No other Speaker of my living Actions,
To keep mine Honour from Corruption,
But fuch an honeft Chronicler, as Griffith.
Whom I moft hated living, thou haft made me
With thy religious Truth and Modefty,
Now in his Ashes, Honour; Peace be with him.
Patience, be near me ftill, and fet me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the Musicians play me that fad Note
I nam'd my Knell; whilft I fit meditating
On that Celestial Harmony, I go to.
Grif. She is afleep: Good Wench, let's fit down quiet, For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
The Vision. Enter folemnly tripping one after another, fix Perfonages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their Heads Garlands of Bays, and golden Vizards on their Faces, Branches of Bays or Palm in their Hands. They first Congee unto her, then Dance; and at certain Changes, the first two hold a spare Garland over her Head, at which the other four make reverend Curtfies. Then the two, that held the Garland, deliver the fame to the other next two, who observe the fame order in their Changes, and holding the Garland over her Head. Which done, they deliver the fame Garland to the last two, who likewife obferve the fame Order. At which, as it were by InSpiration, he makes, in her fleep. signs of rejoycing,and holdeth up her Hands to Heaven. And fo in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Mufick continues.
Kath. Spi its of Peace, where are ye? are ye all gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.
Kath. It is not you I call for,
Saw ye none enter, fince I flept?
Grif. None, Madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not even now a blessed Troop
Invite me to a Banquet, whofe bright Faces
Caft a thousand Bams upon me, like the Sun?
They promis'd me eternal Happiness,
And brought me Garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I thall affuredly.
Grif. I am molt joyful, Madam, fuch good Dreams
Poffefs your Fancy.
Kath. Bid the Mufick leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me.
Pat. Do you note
How much her Grace is alter'd on the fudden?
How long her Face is drawn? How pale fhe looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark her Eyes.
Grif. She is going, Werch.
Pat, Heaven comfort her.
Kath. You are a fawcy Fellow,
Deferve we no more Reverence?
Grif. You are to blame,
Knowing the will not lofe her wonted Greatnefs,
To ufe fo rude Behaviour. Go to, kneel.
Mef. I humbly do intreat your Highness Pardon,
My hafte made me unmannerly. There is ftaying
A Gentleman fent from the King, to fee you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this Fellow Let me ne'er fee again. [Exit Meffenger.
You thould be Lord Ambaffador from the Emperor,
My Royal Nephew, and your Name Capucius.
Cap. Madam, the fame, your Servant.
The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely
With me, fince firft you knew me.
What is your Pleasure with me?
Cap. Noble Lady,
First mine own Service to your Grace, the next
The King's request that I would vifit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his Princely Commendations,
And heartily intreats you take good Comfort.
Kath, O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
That gentle Phyfick given in time had cur'd me:
But now I am paft all Comforts here, but Prayers.
How does his Highness?
Cap. Madam, in good Health.
Kath. So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I fhall dwell with Worms, and my poor Name
Banish'd the Kingdom. Patience, is that Letter
I caus'd you write, yet fent away?
Kath. Sir, I muft humbly pray you to deliver This to my Lord the King.
Cap. Moft willingly, Madam.
Kath. 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 is young, and of a Noble modeft Nature,
I hope fhe will deferve weil, and a little
To love her for her Mother's fake, that lov'd him,
Heav'n knows how dearly.
Is, that his Noble Grace would have fome pity
Upon my wretched Women, that fo long
Have fo low'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
And now I fhould not lye, but well deferve
For Virtue, and true Beauty of the Soul,
For Honefty, and decent Carriage,
A right good Husband, let him be a Noble,
And furethofe 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 by.
If Heav'n 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 deareft in this World,
As you with peace to Chriftian Souls departed,
Stand thefe poor Peoples Friend, and urge the King
To do me this laft Right.
Cap. By Heav'n I will,
Or let me lofe the fashion of a Man.
Kath. I thank you, honeft Lord. Remember me In all humility unto his Highness;
Say, 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 must not leave me yet. I must to Bed,
Call in moreWomen. When I am dead, good Wench,
Let me be us'd with Honour, ftrew me over
With Maiden Flowers, that all the World may know
I was a chaft Wife to my Grave: Embalm me,
Then lay me forth, although un- Queen'd, yet like
A Queen, and Daughter to a King, inter me.
I can no more.
[Exeunt, leading Katharine.
Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovel.
Gard. TT'S one a Clock, Boy, is't not?
Gard. Thefe fhould be hours for Neceffities, Not for Delights; times to repair our Nature With comforting Repofe, and not for us
To waste these times. Good hour of Night, Sir Thomas, Whither fo late?
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