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2 Gent. A royal train, believe me,- These I | With all the choicest musick of the kingdom, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the same full state pac'd back again To York-place, where the feast is held. 1 Gent. Sir, you

Who's that, that bears the scepter?

1 Gent. Marquis Dorset: And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that should be

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Must no more call it York-place, that is past : For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost; 'Tis now the king's, and call'd - Whitehall. 3 Gent.

I know it;

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

2 Gent.

What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen?

3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,) The other, London.

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Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent. All the land knows that: However, yet there's no great breach; when it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 3 Gent.

Thomas Cromwell; A man in much esteem with the king, and truly A worthy friend. The king

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[Exit Procession, with a great flourish of Has made him master o'the jewel-house,
Trumpets.
And one, already, of the privy-council.
2 Gent. He will deserve more.
3 Gent.

Enter a Third Gentleman.

Heaven save you, sir! where have you been broiling? 3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

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3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent.

Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
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 sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever sat by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces
Been lose, this day they had been lost.
I never saw before. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent.

Such joy

But, 'pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint-like,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,

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Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath.

O, Griffith, sick to death: My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair; So, -now methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

Grif. Yes, madam; but I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: If well, he stepp'd before me, happily 9, For my example.

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Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on 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 suggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law; I' the presence
He would say 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 is now, nothing.
Grif.
Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?
Kath.

I were malicious else.

Yes, good Griffith;

Grif. 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; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty, and sour, 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 sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, Ile was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little : And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With thy religious truth, and modesty, Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him! Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: I have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to.

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make reverend court'sies; then the two that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they delwer the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The musick continues.

Kath. Spirits 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, since I slept?
Grif.
None, madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams 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 shall,
Assuredly.

1

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. Bid the musick leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [Musick ceases. Do you note,

Kath.

Pat.

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?
Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.
Heaven comfort her!

Pat.

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But now I am past 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 shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom! - Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
Pat.

No, madam.
[Giving it to KATHARINE.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.
Cap.
Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh-
ter 3:

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding;
(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 ;

SCENE I. -A Gallery in the Palace.

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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
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.

Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page
with a Torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS
LOVELL.

Gar. 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.
Thomas!

Whither so late?

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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,
Good hour of night, sir Sleep in their graves.
Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Crom-
well,-
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 preferments,
With which the time will load him: The archbishop
What's the Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak
One syllable against him?

Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero+
With the duke of Suffolk.

Lov.
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell.
matter?

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 despatch 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,

The fruit, she goes with,
may find

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.
Gar.
I pray for heartily; that it
Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.
A game at cards.

3 Afterwards queen Mary.

Gar.
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 heretick, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved,
Have broken with 6 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. 7 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.
Told their minds to. 7 Summoned.

5 Set on.

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| Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,
Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: You a brother of
us 8,

It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

Cran.

I humbly thank your highness; And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, Than I myself, poor man. K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up; Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame, What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd You would have given me your petition, that I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you Without indurance, further.

Cran. Most dread liege, The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty; If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing

What can be said against me.

K. Hen.

Know you not how Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world? Your enemies

Are many, and not small; their practices
Must bear the same proportion: and not ever
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it: At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been done.
You are potently oppos'd; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween 9 you of better treatment,
I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to ;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran.

God, and your majesty, Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me!

K. Hen.

Be of good cheer; They shall no more prevail, than we give way to. Keep comfort to you; and this morning see You do appear before them: if they shall chance, In charging you with matters, to commit you, The best persuasions to the contrary Fail not to use, and with what vehemency The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties Will render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us

There make before them. - Look, the good man weeps!

He's honest, on mine honour.

I swear, he is true-hearted; and a soul
None better in my kingdom. - Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you. -[Erit CRANMER.] He
has strangled

His language in his tears.

8 One of the council.

9 Think.

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K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it? Bulls.

There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and foot-boys.

K. Hen.

Ha! 'Tis he, indeed : Is this the honour they do one another? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, They had parted so much honesty amongst them, (At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour, To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery: Let them alone, and draw the curtain close; We shall hear more anon.

The Council-Chamber.

[Exeunt.

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And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures
Chan. Let him come in.
D. Keep.
Your grace may enter now.
[CRANMER approaches the Council-Table.
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry
Yes, my lord; To sit here at this present, and behold

Who waits there? Sure you know me?

D. Keep.

But yet I cannot help you.

Cran.

Why?

That chair stand empty: But we all are men, In our own natures frail; out of which frailty,

D. Keep. Your grace must wait till you be call'd And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,

Cran.

for.

Enter DOCTOR BUTTS.

So.

Butts. This is a piece of malice, I am glad I came this way so happily: The king Shall understand it presently. [Erit BUTTS. Cran. [Aside.] 'Tis Butts, The king's physician: As he past along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain, This is of purpose lay'd, by some that hate me, (God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice,) To quench mine honour: they would shame to make

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Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap
lains,

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions,
Divers and dangerous, which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those that tame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer
(Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness,
Farewell, all physick: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching,
And the strong course of my authority,

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