Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people : The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems, 1 Gent. 3 Gent. I know it; But 't is 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. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester, (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,) The other, London. Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, 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 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. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, Grif. Yes, madam; but I think your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Prithee, 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 Leicester, 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 Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! His promises were, as he then was, mighty; The clergy ill example. Grif. Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues Kath. I were malicious else. Yes, good Griffith; This cardinal, 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, Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him! Sad and solemn music. 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 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, 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 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? 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? And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel Assuredly. Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. Kath. Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases. Do you note, Pat. How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, Heaven comfort her! Enter a Messenger. You are a saucy fellow : Mess. An 't like your grace,— Kath. Deserve we no more reverence? |