THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of Trumpets; then, enter 1 Two Judges.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace be-Had the full view of, such a noise arose fore him.

3. Choristers singing.

[Musick. 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of Gold,
on his head a demi-coronal of gold.
With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing
the rod of silver with the dove, crowned
with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.
6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his co-
ronet on his head, bearing a long white
wand, as high-steward. With him, the
Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of mar-
shalship, a coronet on his head. Collars
of SS.

7. A Canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports;
under it, the Queen in her robe; in her
hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned.
On each side of her, the Bishops of Lon.
don and Winchester.

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal
of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the
Queen's train.

9.
2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I
know ;-

Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain
circlets of gold without flowers.

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

Heaven bless thee;
[Looking on the Queen.
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.-
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more, and richer, when he strains that lady;
I cannot blame his conscience.
1 Gent.

They, that bear
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all,

are near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train,
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.

2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars
indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones.
1 Gent.
No more of that.
[Exit Procession, with a great
flourish of Trumpets.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling?

3 Gent. Among the crowd i'the abbey; where
a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gent.

You saw

How was it?

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent.
Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest a while some half an hour, or so,

In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
(Donblets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were wo-
So strangely in one piece.
[ven
2 Gent
But, pray, what follow'd?
3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with
modest paces
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:
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
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 musick 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.
Sir, you
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.

I know it;
But 'tis so lately altered, that the old name
Is fresh about me.
2 Gent.

What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen?
3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of
Winchester

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)
The other, London.
2 Gent.

He of Winchester
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. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Kimbolton.

Enter Katharine, Dowager, sick; led between
Griffith and Patience.
Grif. How does your grace?
Kath.
Ö, 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
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
Kath. Pr'ythee good Griffith, tell me how he died:
For my example..

Grif.

Kath.

Alas! poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to
Leicester,

Well, the voice goes, madam: The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after For after the stout Earl Northumberland another, six Personages, clad in white robes, Arrested him at York, and brought him forward wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and (As a man sorely tainted) to his answer, golden vizards on their faces; branches of He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, bays, or palm in their hands. They first con He could not sit his mule. gee 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 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 observe the same order: at which (as it were by inspiration) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven; and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The musick continues.

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?
Kath.

Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else.
Grif
This cardinal,
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;

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. An't like your grace,-
Kath.

You are a saucy fellow :

But, to those men that sought him, sweet as sum-Deserve we no more reverence?

mer.

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 theu, 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.

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' par-
don;

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 Griffith and Messenger. 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.
The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
But, I pray

Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With me, since first you knew me.
With thy religious truth, and modesty,

you,

Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!-What is your pleasure with me?

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.

Sad and solemn musick.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her ;-Softly, gentle Patience.

O my lord,

Noble lady,

Cap.
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 physick, given in time, had cured me ;

But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. | Lov. Came you from the king, my lord?
How does his highness?
Gar. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero
Cap.
Madam, in good health. With the duke of Suffolk.
Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, Lov.
I must to him too,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor

ha!, I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard

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 Charles, good night.-The due o' the verdict with it: At what ease TExit Suffolk. Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt To swear against you? such things have been done.

You are potently opposed; and with a malice

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch- Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,

SCENE II. Lobby before the Council Chamber.
Enter Cranmer; Servants, Doorkeeper, &c.
attending.

Cran. I hope, I am not too late; and yet the
gentleman,

That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast? what means
this -Hoa!

Who waits there 7-Sure you know me ?

Yes, my lord;

Why 7

To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty: But we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should
teach us,

Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling wait till you be The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chaplains

shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,
Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
7 But reverence to your calling makes me modest
Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss dis-