And the late marriage' made of none effect:
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.
3 Gent.
Alas, good lady!-
[Trumpets.
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is
coming.
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.
3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
Good sir, speak it to us. 3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream 3. Choristers singing. [Music. Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his A distance from her; while her grace sat down head, a gilt copper crown. To rest a while, some half an hour, or so, 5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on In a rich chair of state, opposing freely his head a demi-coronal of gold. With The beauty of her person to the people. him the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman of silver with the dove, crowned with an That ever lay by man: which when the people earl's coronet. Collars of SS. Had the full view of, such a noise arose 6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coro-As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, net on his head, bearing a long white As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, wand, as high-steward. With him, the (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces duke of Norfolk, with the rod of mar- Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy shalship, a coronet on his head. Collars I never saw before. Great-bellied women, of SS. That had not half a week to go, like rams 7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; In the old time of war, would shake the press, under it, the Queen in her robe; in her And make them reel before them. No man living hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven On each side of her, the bishops of London So strangely in one piece. and Winchester.
8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.
9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.
But pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest
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:
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I When by the archbishop of Canterbury
Who's that, that bears the sceptre ?
1 Gent.
Marquis Dorset:
And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.
2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that
should be
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,
With all the choicest music 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.
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.
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.
What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen?
3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Win-
chester,
(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
The other, London.
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
Has made him master o'the jewel-house,
And one, already, of the privy-council,
2 Gent. He will deserve more.
3 Gent.
Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests;
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.
Both.
You may command us, sir. [Exe. SCENE II.1-Kimbolton. 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. Priythee, good Griffith, tell me how he
died:
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
For my example.
Grif.
Well, the voice goes, madam:
For after the stout earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
(As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,
He could not sit his mule.
Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
To whom he gave these words,-O father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
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.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
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?
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II were malicious else.
Grif
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,
He was most princely: Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd 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.
Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her ;-Softly, gentle Patience.
The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after
another, six personages, 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 reverent 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 deliver the
same garland to the last two, who likewise ob-
serve the same order: at which (as it were by
inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of re-
joicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven:
and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying
the garland with them. The music 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 you none enter, since I slept?
Grif.
None, madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed
troop
(1) This scene is above any other part of Shak-Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
speare's tragedies, and perhaps above any scene Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
of any other poet; tender and pathetic, without They promis'd me eternal happiness;
gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices; without
the help of romantic circumstances, without im-
probable sallies of poetical lamentation, and with-
out any throes of tumultuous misery. JOHNSON.
By short stages.
Of the king.
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Mess. An't like your grace,Kath. You are a saucy fellow: Deserve we no more reverence? Grif. You are to blame, Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow
Let me ne'er see again. [Exeunt Grif. and Mess.
Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. Cap. Madam, the same, your servant. Kath. O my lord, The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, 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 visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
'Tis like a pardon after execution :
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
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.
[Giving it to Katharine. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Cap. Kath. In which I have commended to his good
The model' of our chaste loves, his young daughter:2
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 be3 a noble ;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have
them.
The last is, for my men:-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me ;-
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
If Heaven 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 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 heaven, I will;
Or let me lose the fashion of a man!
Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness:
Say, his long trouble now is passing
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.
can no more. [Exeunt, leading Katharine.
SCENE I-A gallery in the palace.
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.-Good hour of night, sir
Thomas!
Whither so late?
Lov.
Came you from the king, my lord?
Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero+
With the duke of Suffolk.
I must to him, too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?
It seems, you are in haste: an if there be No great offence belongst to't, give your friend Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have
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,
(1) Image. (2) Afterwards Queen Mary.
(3) Even if he should be.
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,
They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.
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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, 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
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare
speak
One syllable against him?
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,)
most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they moved,
Have broken with the king who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint (of his great grace
And princely care; foreseing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him) he 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.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your
servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page.
As Lovell is going out, enter the King, and the
Duke of Suffolk.
K. Hen. 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.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.-
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news!
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high-
Most heartily to pray for her.
K. Hen. What say'st thou? ha! To pray for her? what, is she crying out? Lov. So said her woman; and that her sufferance made
Almost each pang a death.
K. Hen.
Alas, good lady!
Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir!
K. Hen.
'Tis midnight, Charles,
Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.
Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Lov. This is about that which the bishop spake; am happily come hither.
Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.
K. Hen.
Ha!-I have said.-Be gone.
Avoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.
What![Exeunt Lovell and Denny. Cran. I am fearful:-Wherefore frowns he thus? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do desire to know Wherefore I sent for you.
To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen.
'Pray you, arise, My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me your hand.
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows:
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which, being con-
sider'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,*
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
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.
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. 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 you of better luck,
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.
God, and your majesty, Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me!
K. Hen.
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. God's blest mother!
I swear, he is true-hearted; and a soul
None better in my kingdom.-Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you.- [Exit Cranmer.
He has strangled
His language in his tears.
Enter an old Lady.
Gent. [Within.] Come back; What mean you? Lady. I'll not come back: the tidings that bring Will make my boldness manners.-Now, good angels
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings!
Now, by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? Say, ay; and of a boy.
And of a lovely boy: The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her!-'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.
K. Hen. Give her a hundred marks. I'll to the queen. [Exit King. Lady. A hundred marks! By this light, I'll
An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl is like to him?
I will have more, or else unsay't; and now
While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.
There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys. K. Hen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, Is this the honour they do one another? They had parted so much honesty among 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.
Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, and Cromwell. The Chancellor places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at the lower end, as secretary.
Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council?
Crom. Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Gar. Has he had knowledge of it?
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