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Sad and folemn musick.

Grif. She is aseep. Good wench, let's sit down

quiet, For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The vision. Enter solemnly one after another, fix per

Jonages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, änd 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 bead; at which, the other four make reverend courtesies; then the two, that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two; who observe the same crder in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, wko likewise observe the same order ; at which, as it were by inspiration, the makes in her feep Signs of rejoicing, and boldeth up her hands to heaven; and to in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The mufick continues.

Cath. Spirits of peace; where are ye? are ye gone

? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Grif. Madam, we're here.

Cath. It is not you I call for ; Saw ye none enter, since I Nepe?

Grif. None, Madam.

Caik. No? saw you not e'en now a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? They promised me eternal happiness, And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear : I Thall asuredly.

Grif. I am nost joyful, Madam, such good dreams Poffefs your fancy. Vol. V. Hh

Cath.

Catb. Bid the musick leave, 'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

[Mufick ceases.
Pat. Do you note,
How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden ?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold ? observe her eyes.

Grif. She is going, wench. Pray, pray
Pat. Heav'n comfort her.

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Enter a Melenger. Mes. An't like

your

Grace
Cath. You are a fawcy fellow,
Deserve we no more rev'rence ?

Grif. You're to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatnefs,
To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.
Mef. [Kneeling.) I humbly do intreat your High-

ness' pardon ;
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the King, to see you.
Cath. Admit him entrance, Grifitb. But this

fellow
Let me ne'er see again.

[Exit Messenger.
Enter Lord Capucius.
If my fight fail not,
You should be Lord ambassador from the Emperor,
My royal nephew; and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the fame, your servant.

Carb. O my Lord,
The times and titles are now alter'd strangely
With me, fince first you knew me.

knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble lady,
Firit, mine own service to your Grace; the next,
The King's request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me

Sends

Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily increats you take good comfort.
Catb. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too

late ;
'Tis like a pardon after execution ;
That gentle physick, giv'n in time, had cur’d me;
But now I'm paft ail comforts here, but prayers.
How does his Highness ?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Catb. So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banilh'd the kingdom !--Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. No, Madam.

Catb. Sir, I must humbly pray you to deliver This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Most willing, Madam.

Caib. In which I have commended to his goodneis The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter; The dews of heav'n fall thick in blessings on her! Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding, (She's young, and of a noble modest nature ; I hope, she will deserve well) and a little To love her for her mother's fake, that lov'd him, Heav'n 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 well deserves, For virtue and true beauty of the soul, For honesty and decent carriage, A right good husband, let him be a noble; And, sure, those men are happy, that shall have 'em. The last is for my men; they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw 'em froin me; That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, And something over to remember me.

If

Hh 2

If heav'n had pleas’d to've giv'n 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 heav'n, I will ;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Cath. I thank you, honest Lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highness;
And tell him, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world. Tell him, in death I bleft him ;
For so I will - Mine eyes grow dim. Farewel,
My LordGriffith, farewel-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed
Call in more women-When I'm dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour : strew me over
With maiden Aow'rs, that all the world may know
I was a chalte wife to my grave; embalm me,
Then lay me forth. Although unqueen’d, yet like
A Queen, and daughter to a King, interr me.
I can no more-

[Exeunt, leading Catharine,

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ACT v.

SCENE I.

Before the Palace. Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a

torch before bim, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.

GARDINER.

IT

1

T's one o'clock, boy, is’t not ?

Boy. It hath ftruck. Gard. These Mould be hours for necessities, Not for delights ; time, to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir

Thomas ? Whither so late?

Lov. Came you from the King, my Lord ?

Gard. 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. Gard. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell ; what's the

matter? It seems you're in haste; and 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.

'Not for delights] Gardiner 2 Some touch of your

late buffhimself is not much delighted. nefs.] Some hint of the bus The delight at which he hints, finess that keeps you awake so seems to be the King's diversion, late. which keeps him in attendance.

And

H h 3

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