SONG. An. This is strange to me Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it? An. Come you are pleasant Old.L. With your Theame, I could O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were? An. Good Lady, Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To thinke what followes. The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her Old L. What doe you thinke me - Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short siluer wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then a Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage. Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded King. What's the need? It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th' Authority allow'd, You may then spare that time Car. Bee't so, proceed Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court Crier. Henry King of England, &c King. Heere Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c. The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes. Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on me; for I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what haue I offended you? What cause Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to your will conformable: Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre I euer contradicted your Desire? Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your Father, was reputed for A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many A yeare before. It is not to be question'd, That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God Your pleasure be fulfill'd Wol. You haue heere Lady, (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning; Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your owne quiet, as to rectifie What is vnsetled in the King Camp. His Grace Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It's fit this Royall Session do proceed, And that (without delay) their Arguments Be now produc'd, and heard Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake Wol. Your pleasure, Madam Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire Wol. Be patient yet Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me. I do beleeue (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth Wol. I do professe You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome, Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistorie, Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much As you haue done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knowes I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, And to say so no more Queen. My Lord, My Lord, I am a simple woman, much too weake T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor, then Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, And to be iudg'd by him. She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart. Camp. The Queene is obstinate, Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well. Shee's going away Kin. Call her againe Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more Vpon this businesse my appearance make, In any of their Courts. Exit Queene, and her Attendants. Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate, That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha's Carried her selfe towards me Wol. Most gracious Sir, In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound, There must I be vnloos'd, although not there At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question on't: or euer Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person? Kin. My Lord Cardinall, I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, I free you from't: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies, that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd: But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him. Now, what mou'd me too't, I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't: My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on the debating And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution, hee (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me; Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings, did throng And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life too't; then The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue, Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome (Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present heere together: that's to say, I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke When I first mou'd you B.Lin. Very well my Liedge Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say How farre you satisfide me Lin. So please your Highnes, The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a State of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you are running heere Kin. I then mou'd you, My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; But by particular consent proceeded Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i'th' world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life And Kingly Dignity, we are contented To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature That's Parragon'd o'th' World Camp. So please your Highnes, The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his Holinesse Kin. I may perceiue These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; I say, set on. Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter Queene and her Women as at worke. Queen. Take thy Lute wench, My Soule growes sad with troubles, Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working. SONG. Orpheus with his Lute made Trees, And the Mountaine tops that freeze, Bow themselues when he did sing. To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers, There had made a lasting Spring. Euery thing that heard him play, Euen the Billowes of the Sea, Hung their heads, & then lay by. In sweet Musicke is such Art, Killing care, & griefe of heart, Fall asleepe, or hearing dye. Enter a Gentleman. Queen. How now? Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the presence Queen. Would they speake with me? Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam Queen. Pray their Graces To come neere: what can be their busines With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't, They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous: But all Hoods, make not Monkes. Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian. Wols. Peace to your Highnesse Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, (I would be all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords? Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you The full cause of our comming Queen. Speake it heere. There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience Deserues a Corner: would all other Women Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy Aboue a number) if my actions Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, Enuy and base opinion set against 'em, I know my life so euen. If your busines Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in; Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin; I am not such a Truant since my comming, As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious: Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you, If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake; Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed, May be absolu'd in English Card. Noble Lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed, (And seruice to his Maiesty and you) So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way of Accusation, To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You haue too much good Lady: But to know How you stand minded in the waighty difference Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, And comforts to our cause Camp. Most honour'd Madam, My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure Both of his truth and him (which was too farre) Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace, His Seruice, and his Counsell Queen. To betray me. My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so) But how to make ye sodainly an Answere In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit; And to such men of grauity and learning; In truth I know not. I was set at worke, Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking Either for such men, or such businesse; For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause: Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse Wol. Madam, You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, Your hopes and friends are infinite Queen. In England, But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, That any English man dare giue me Councell? Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure, (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, They are (as all my other comforts) far hence In mine owne Countrey Lords Camp. I would your Grace Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell Queen. How Sir? Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much, Both for your Honour better, and your Cause: For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, You'l part away disgrac'd Wol. He tels you rightly Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge, That no King can corrupt Camp. Your rage mistakes vs Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye: Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd? I will not wish ye halfe my miseries, I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, You turne the good we offer, into enuy Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, And all such false Professors. Would you haue me (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty, If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me? Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already, His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, And all the Fellowship I hold now with him Is onely my Obedience. What can happen To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies Make me a Curse, like this Camp. Your feares are worse Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe, Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory) Neuer yet branded with Suspition? Haue I, with all my full Affections Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him? Almost forgot my Prayres to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords. Bring me a constant woman to her Husband, One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; And to that Woman (when she has done most) Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience Car. Madam, you wander from the good We ayme at Qu. My Lord, I dare not make my selfe so guiltie, To giue vp willingly that Noble Title Your Master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e're diuorce my Dignities Car. Pray heare me Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it: Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched Lady? I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing. Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty, No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me? Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd, Ile hang my head, and perish Car. If your Grace Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, The way of our Profession is against it; We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience, So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes. I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper, A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so: You wrong your Vertues With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit As yours was, put into you, euer casts Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords: And pray forgiue me; If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly, You know I am a Woman, lacking wit To make a seemely answer to such persons. Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie, He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers, Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges That little thought when she set footing heere, She should haue bought her Dignities so deere. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine. Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces, With these you beare alreadie Sur. I am ioyfull To meete the least occasion, that may giue me Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke, To be reueng'd on him Suf. Which of the Peeres Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did he regard The stampe of Noblenesse in any person Out of himselfe? Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: What he deserues of you and me, I know: What we can do to him (though now the time Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft Ouer the King in's Tongue Nor. O feare him not, His spell in that is out: the King hath found Matter against him, that for euer marres The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled (Not to come off) in his displeasure Sur. Sir, I should be glad to heare such Newes as this Once euery houre Nor. Beleeue it, this is true. In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares, As I would wish mine Enemy Sur. How came His practises to light? Suf. Most strangely Sur. O how? how? Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue My King is tangled in affection, to A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen Sur. Ha's the King this? Suf. Beleeue it Sur. Will this worke? Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts And hedges his owne way. But in this point All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke After his Patients death; the King already Hath married the faire Lady Sur. Would he had Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, For I professe you haue it Sur. Now all my ioy Trace the Coniunction Suf. My Amen too't Nor. All mens Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords She is a gallant Creature, and compleate In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall In it be memoriz'd Sur. But will the King Digest this Letter of the Cardinals? The Lord forbid Nor. Marry Amen Suf. No, no: There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius, Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue, Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall, To second all his plot. I do assure you, The King cry'de Ha, at this Cham. Now God incense him, And let him cry Ha, lowder Norf. But my Lord When returnes Cranmer? Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce, Together with all famous Colledges Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) His second Marriage shall be publishd, and Her Coronation. Katherine no more Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, And Widdow to Prince Arthur Nor. This same Cranmer's A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine In the Kings businesse Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him For it, an Arch-byshop Nor. So I heare Suf. 'Tis so. Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. The Cardinall Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody Car. The Packet Cromwell, Gau't you the King? Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper? Crom. Presently He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd, He did it with a Serious minde: a heede Was in his countenance. You he bad Attend him heere this Morning Card. Is he ready to come abroad? Crom. I thinke by this he is Card. Leaue me a while. Exit Cromwell. It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson, The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke? Nor. He's discontented Suf. Maybe he heares the King Does whet his Anger to him Sur. Sharpe enough, Lord for thy Iustice Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman? A Knights Daughter To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous And well deseruing? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, And is his Oracle Nor. He is vex'd at something. Enter King, reading of a Scedule. Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string, The Master-cord on's heart Suf. The King, the King King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, Saw you the Cardinall? Nor. My Lord, we haue Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground, Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe, Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures We haue seene him set himselfe King. It may well be, There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, Papers of State he sent me, to peruse As I requir'd: and wot you what I found There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly) Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure, Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes Possession of a Subiect Nor. It's Heauens will, Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, To blesse your eye withall King. If we did thinke His Contemplation were aboue the earth, And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth His serious considering. King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall. Car. Heauen forgiue me, Euer God blesse your Highnesse King. Good my Lord, You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which You were now running o're: you haue scarse time To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad To haue you therein my Companion Car. Sir, For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require Her times of preseruation, which perforce I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, Must giue my tendance to King. You haue said well Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, (As I will lend you cause) my doing well, With my well saying King. 'Tis well said agen, And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you, He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne His word vpon you. Since I had my Office, I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow My Bounties vpon you Car. What should this meane? Sur. The Lord increase this businesse King. Haue I not made you The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now pronounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say withall If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you? Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, Haue euer come too short of my Desires, Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it King. Fairely answer'd: A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is Therein illustrated, the Honor of it Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues particular, be more To me your Friend, then any Car. I do professe, That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours King. 'Tis Nobly spoken: Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What appetite you haue. Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering. Car. What should this meane? What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new deuice to beate this from his Braines? I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope? The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, And no man see me more. Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine. Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you To render vp the Great Seale presently Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you heare further from his Highnesse Car. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so weighty Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely? Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? Sur. The King that gaue it Car. It must be himselfe then Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest: Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so Sur. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing Land Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law, The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie, You sent me Deputie for Ireland, Farre from his succour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him: Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty, Absolu'd him with an Axe Wol. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any priuate malice in his end, His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse. If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you, You haue as little Honestie, as Honor, That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master, Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his follies Sur. By my Soule, Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, Thou should'st feele My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance? And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes Card. All Goodnesse Is poyson to thy Stomacke Sur. Yes, that goodnesse Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble, As you respect the common good, the State Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues, (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen) Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile startle you Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in Charitie against it Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: But thus much, they are foule ones Wol. So much fairer And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knowes my Truth Sur. This cannot saue you: I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember Some of these Articles, and out they shall. Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall, You'l shew a little Honestie Wol. Speake on Sir, I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, It is to see a Nobleman want manners Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; Haue at you. First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a Legate, by which power You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King To be your Seruant Suf. Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Councell, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with Cham. O my Lord, Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him So little, of his great Selfe Sur. I forgiue him Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, Because all those things you haue done of late By your power Legatine within this Kingdome, Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire; That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements, Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations How to liue better. For your stubborne answer About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs, The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall. Exeunt. all but Wolsey. Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me. Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse. This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: This many Summers in a Sea of Glory, But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me. Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye, I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours? There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine, More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer, Neuer to hope againe. Enter Cromwell, standing amazed. Why how now Cromwell? Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir Car. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed Crom. How does your Grace Card. Why well: Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell, I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, A peace aboue all earthly Dignities, A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.) O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen Crom. I am glad your Grace, Ha's made that right vse of it Card. I hope I haue: I am able now (me thinkes) (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele) To endure more Miseries, and greater farre Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer. What Newes abroad? Crom. The heauiest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the King Card. God blesse him Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen Lord Chancellor, in your place Card. That's somewhat sodain. But he's a Learned man. May he continue Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones, When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings, May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him. What more? Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury Card. That's Newes indeed Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrecie long married, This day was view'd in open, as his Queene, Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now Onely about her Corronation Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe. O Cromwell, The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories In that one woman, I haue lost for euer. No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors, Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel, I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King (That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him, What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee: Some little memory of me, will stirre him (I know his Noble Nature) not to let Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide For thine owne future safety Crom. O my Lord, Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo So good, so Noble, and so true a Master? Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron, With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord. The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres For euer, and for euer shall be yours Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare In all my Miseries: But thou hast forc'd me (Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman. Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee; Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory, And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor, Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in: A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it. Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me: Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more then Honesty. Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not; Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. Serue the King: And prythee leade me in: There take an Inuentory of all I haue, To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heauen, is all, I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age Haue left me naked to mine Enemies Crom. Good Sir, haue patience Card. So I haue. Farewell The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. 1 Y'are well met once againe 2 So are you 1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation 2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall 1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow, This generall ioy 2 'Tis well: The Citizens I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds, As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward In Celebration of this day with Shewes, Pageants, and Sights of Honor 1 Neuer greater, Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir 2 May I be bold to aske what that containes, That Paper in your hand 1 Yes, 'tis the List Of those that claime their Offices this day, By custome of the Coronation. The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke, He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest 1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs, I should haue beene beholding to your Paper: But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse? 1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order, Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not: And to be short, for not Appearance, and The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd, And the late Marriage made of none effect: Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton, Where she remaines now sicke 2 Alas good Lady. The Trumpets sound: Stand close, The Queene is comming. Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of Trumpets. 2 Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before him. 4 Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the Mace. Then Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt Copper Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his head, a Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the Rod of Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of Esses. 7 Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head, bearing a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolke, with the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8 A Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in her Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each side her, the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of Norfolke, in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes Traine. 10 Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold, without Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State, and then, A great Flourish of Trumpets. 2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know: Who's that that beares the Scepter? 1 Marquesse Dorset, And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod 2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee The Duke of Suffolke 1 'Tis the same: high Steward 2 And that my Lord of Norfolke? 1 Yes 2 Heauen blesse thee, Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on. Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell; Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes, And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady, I cannot blame his Conscience 1 They that beare The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons Of the Cinque-Ports 2 Those men are happy, And so are all, are neere her. I take it, she that carries vp the Traine, Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke 1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses 2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed, And sometimes falling ones 2 No more of that. Enter a third Gentleman. 1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling? 3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled With the meere ranknesse of their ioy 2 You saw the Ceremony? 3 That I did 1 How was it? 3 Well worth the seeing 2 Good Sir, speake it to vs? 3 As well as I am able. The rich streame Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so, In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely The Beauty of her Person to the People. Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman That euer lay by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noyse arose, As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest, As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes, (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women, That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen So strangely in one peece 2 But what follow'd? 3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly. Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people: When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury, She had all the Royall makings of a Queene; As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne, The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the same full State pac'd backe againe To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held 1 Sir, You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past: For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost, 'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall 3 I know it: But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me 2 What two Reuerend Byshops Were those that went on each side of the Queene? 3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary: The other London 2 He of Winchester Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops, The vertuous Cranmer 3 All the Land knowes that: How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him 2 Who may that be, I pray you 3 Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him Master o'th' Iewell House, And one already of the Priuy Councell 2 He will deserue more 3 Yes without all doubt. Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way, Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: Something I can command. As I walke thither, Ile tell ye more Both. You may command vs Sir. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her Gentleman Vsher, and Patience her Woman. Grif. How do's your Grace? Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death: My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth, Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire, So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease. Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey Was dead? Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. If well, he stept before me happily For my example Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam, For after the stout Earle Northumberland Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer, He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill He could not sit his Mule Kath. Alas poore man Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him; To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the stormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Giue him a little earth for Charity. So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this, About the houre of eight, which he himselfe Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, He gaue his Honors to the world agen, His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace Kath. So may he rest, His Faults lye gently on him: Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him, And yet with Charity. He was a man Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play, His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence He would say vntruths, and be euer double Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull. His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue The Clergy ill example Grif. Noble Madam: Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse To heare me speake his good now? Kath. Yes good Griffith, I were malicious else Grif. This Cardinall, Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one: Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading: Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not: But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. And though he were vnsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam, He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him, Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it. The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous, So excellent in Art, and still so rising, That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue. His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him: For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, And found the Blessednesse of being little. And to adde greater Honors to his Age Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald, No other speaker of my liuing Actions, To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption, But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie, (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him. Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower, I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, Cause the Musitians play me that sad note I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too. Sad and solemne Musicke. Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, and golden Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands. They first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first two hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make reuerend Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to the other next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and holding the Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland to the last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it were by inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and holdeth vp her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Musicke continues. Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye? Grif. Madam, we are heere Kath. It is not you I call for, Saw ye none enter since I slept? Grif. None Madam Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun? They promis'd me eternall Happinesse, And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames Possesse your Fancy Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue, They are harsh and heauy to me. Musicke ceases. Pati. Do you note How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine? How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes, And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes? Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray Pati. Heauen comfort her. Enter a Messenger. Mes. And't like your Grace - Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow, Deserue we no more Reuerence? Grif. You are too blame, Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon, My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow Let me ne're see againe. Exit Messeng. Enter Lord Capuchius. If my sight faile not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant 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 owne seruice to your Grace, the next The Kings request, that I would visit you, Who greeues much for your weaknesse, 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 Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me: But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers. How does his Highnesse? Cap. Madam, in good health Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish, When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter I caus'd you write, yet sent away? Pat. No Madam Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer This to my Lord the King Cap. Most willing Madam Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter, The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her, Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding. She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature, I hope she will deserue well; and a little To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him, Heauen knowes how deerely. My next poore Petition, Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie Vpon my wretched women, that so long Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully, Of which there is not one, I dare auow (And now I should not lye) but will deserue For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule, For honestie, and decent Carriage A right good Husband (let him be a Noble) And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em. The last is for my men, they are the poorest, (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me) That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em, And something ouer to remember me by. If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life And able meanes, we had not parted thus. These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord, By that you loue the deerest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to soules departed, Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King To do me this last right