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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 dy'd, fearing God.

Kath. After my Death, I wish no other Herald,
No other Speaker of my living A&ions,
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 Alhes, 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 fad Note
I nam'd my Knell; whilst I fit meditating
On that Celestial Harmony, I go to.

Sad and solemn Musick.
Grif. She is asleep: Good Wench, let's fit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience,
The Vision. Enter solemnly tripping one after another, fix Per-

Sonages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their Head 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 Curtsies. 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, wko likewise observe the fanse Order. At which, as it were by InSpiration, me makes, in her sleep, signs of rejoycing, and holdeth up her Hands to Heaven, And So in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Mufick 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 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 shall assuredly.

Grif. I am most joyful, Madam, such good Dreams
Possess your Fancy.

Kath. Bid the Musick leave, They are 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 earthy cold? Mark her Eyes. Grif. She is going, Wench. Pray, pray,

, ---Pat. Heaven comfort her.

Enter a Messenger. Mes. And't like your Grace

Kath. You are a fawcy Fellow,
Deserve we no more Reverence?

Grif. You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted Greatness
To use lo rude Behaviour. Go to, kneel.

Mes. I humbly do intreat 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.

[Exit Messenger. Enter Lord Capucius. If my light fail me not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My Royal Nephew, and your Name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the fame, 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 m?

Cap. Noble Lady,
First mine owo Survice to your Grace, the next
Thu King's request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me

you his Princely Commendations,
And heartily intreats you take good Comfort.

Kaih. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late,
'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
That gentle Physick given in time had cur'd me:
But now I am paft all Comforts here, but Prayers,
How does his Highness?

C.zp. 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?

l'at. No, Madam.

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

Cap. Most willingly, Madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his Goodness
The Model of our chaste loves, his young Daughter,
The dews of Heaven fall thick in Billings on her,
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding.
She is young, and of a Noble modeft Nature,
I hope she will deserve well, and a little
To love her for her Mother's fake, 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 lye, but well deserve
For Virtue, and true Beauty of the Soul,
For Honesty, and decent Carriage,
A right go id 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 from me,


That they may have their Wages duly paid 'em,
And something 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 dearest in this World,
As you wish peace to Christian Souls departed,
Stand these poor Peoples Friend, and urge the King
To do me this last Right.

Cap. By Heaven I will,
Or let me loose 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 bleft him,
For so 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, strew me over
With Maiden Flowers, that all the World mayknow
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.

A CT V. S CEN E I. Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch

before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovel.

Gard. It's

Gard. IT'S one a Clock, Boy, is't not?

Boy. It hath struck. Gard. These should be hours for Neceflities, Not for Deļights; 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?

Gard, I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at Primera
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 haste: And if there be
No great Offence belongs to's, 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 ;
And durft 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.

Gard. The Fruit The gocs 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 Conscience says,
She is a good Creature, and sweet Lady, does
Deserve our better Wishes.

Gard. But, Sir, Sir-
Hear me, Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman
Of mine own way, I know you are Wise, 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 me,
Sleep in their Graves.

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i'ch' Kingdom; as for Cromwell,
Beside that of the Jewel-house, is made Malter
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 speak
One Syllable against him?


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