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 alter'd, 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. Stokesley 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.
[Excunt.

SCENE II*.

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. Pr'ythee, 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.

Kath.

Alas, poor man!

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

cester,

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,

*This scene is above any other part of Shakspeare's tragedies, and perhaps above any scene of any other poet; tender and pathetic, without gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices; without the help of romantic circumstances, without improbable sallies of poetical lamentation, and without any throes of tumultuous misery.-JOHNSON. By short stages.

+ Haply.

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.

I were malicious else.

Grif.

Yes, good Griffith;

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;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as sum-

mer.

And though he were unsatisfied in getting,

* Pride.

+ Of the king.

Formed for.

(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.

Sad and solemn musick.

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 * Ipswich

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.

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 :

None, madam.

Saw ye none enter, since I slept?

Grif.

Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed

troop

Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces

Cast 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. [Musick 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 you her eyes? Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.

Pat.

Heaven comfort her!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. An't like your grace,

Kath.
Deserve we no more reverence?

You are a saucy fellow :