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 bleffed Troop
Invite me to a Banquet, whofe bright Faces
Caft a 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 fhall affuredly.
Grif. I am moft 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, Wench. Pray, pray,--
Pat. Heaven comfort her.
Enter a Meffenger.
Mef. And't like your Grace
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 staying
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 should 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 ftrangely
With me, fince first you knew me,
What is your Pleafure with me?
Cap. Noble Lady,
First mine own Service to your Grace, the next
The King's requeft 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.
Kah. 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 your 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 Heaven fall thick in Bleffings on her,
Befeeching him to give her virtuous breeding.
She is young, and of a Noble modeft Nature,
I hope she will deferve well, and a little
To love her for her Mother's fake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly..
Is, that his Noble Grace would have some pity
Upon my
wretched Women, that fo long
Have follow'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 fure thofe 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 Heaven I will,
Or let me loose 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 more Women. 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.
ACT V. SCENE I.
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?
Boy. It hath ftruck.
Gard. Thefe fhould be hours for Neceffities,
Not for Delights; times to repair our Nature
With comforting Repofe, and not for us
To wafte these times. Good hour of Night, Sir Thomas,
Whither fo 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 Lovel; what's the matter? It seems you are in hafte: And if there be
No great Offence belongs to't, give your Friend
Some touch of your late Bufinefs; Affairs that walk, -
As they fay Spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder Nature, than the Business
That feeks difpatch by Day.
Lov. My Lord, I love you;
And durft commend a Secret to your
Much weightier than this Work. The Queen's in Labour
They fay in great extremity, and fear'd
She'll with the Labour end.
Gard. The Fruit fhe 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 Confcience fays,
She is a good Creature, and fweet Lady, does
Deferve our better Wishes.
Hear me, Sir Thomas, y' are a Gentleman
Of mine own way, I know you are Wife, Religious,
And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
"Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovel, tak't of me,
'Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two Hands, and the,
Sleep in their Graves.
Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'th' Kingdom; as for Cromwell,
Befide that of the Jewel-houfe, is made Master
O'th' Rolls, and the King's Secretary. Further, Sir,
Stands in the gap and trade for more Preferments,
With which the Time will load him. Th' Archbishop
Is the King's Hand, or Tongue, and who dare fpeak
One Syllable against him?
Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare; and I my felf have ventur'd
To fpeak my Mind of him; and indeed this Day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incens'd the Lords of the Council, that he is,
(For fo I know he is, they know he is)
A moft Arch-heretick, a Peftilence
That does infect the Land; with which they mov'd,
Have broken with the King, who hath fo far
Given ear to our Complaint, of his great Grace
And Princely Care, forefeeing thofe fell Mifchiefs.
Our Reafons laid before him, hath commanded
To Morrow morning to the Council Board
He be Convented. 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.
[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.
Lov. Many good Nights, my Lord, I reft your Servant.
Enter King and Suffolk.
King. 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.
King. But little, Charles,
Nor shall not, when my Fancy's on my Play.
Now, Lovel, from the Queen what is the News?
Lov. I could not perfonally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her Woman
I fent your Meffage, who return'd her Thanks
In the greatest humblenefs, and defir'd your Highness
Moft heartily to pray for her.
King. What fay'ft thou? Ha!
To pray for her! What! is she crying out?
Lov. So faid her Woman, and that her fuffrance made
Almost each pang a death.
King. Alas, good Lady.
Suf. God fafely quit her of her Burthen, and
With gentle Travel, to the gladding of
Your Highness with an Heir,
King. 'Tis midnight, Charles,
Prithee to Bed, and in thy Prayers remember
Th'eftate of my poor Queen. Leave me alone,
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