The Vifion.

Cath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Areye gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye

Griff. Madam, we're here.

Cath. It is not you I call for.

Saw ye none enter, fince I flept?
Griff. None, Madam.

Cath. No! Saw you not e'en now a blessed troop

Invite me to a banquet, whofe bright faces

Caft thousand beams upon me, like the fun?
They promised me eternal happiness,

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel

I am not worthy yet to wear: I fhall affuredly.

Griff. I am moft joyful, Madam, fuch good dreame Poffefs your fancy.

Cath. Bid the mufic leave,

'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note

[Mufic ceajes.

How much her Grace is alter'd on the fudden

How long her face is drawn? how pale fhe looks,
And of an earthly cold? Obferve her eyes.
Griff. She is going, wench. Pray, pray-
Pat. Heaven comfort her!

Enter a Mesenger.

Mef. An't like your Grace

Cath. You are a faucy fellow.

Deferve we no more reverence?
Griff. You're to blame,

Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,

Το

To ufe fo rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.

Mef. [kneeling] I humbly do intreat your Highness' pardon ;

My hate made me anmannerly. There is ftaying
A gentleman fent from the King, to see you.

You should be Lord Ambaffador from the Emperor,

My royal nephew; and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the fame, your fervant.

Cath. O.my Lord,

The times and titles are now alter'd ftrangely

With me fince you first knew me. But, I pray yow!

What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble Lady,

First mine own service to your Grace; the next,

The King's request that I would vifit you,

Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,

And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Cath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too

late;

"Tis like a pardon after execution.

That gentle phyfic, given in time, had cur'd me ;
But now I'm paft all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his Highness?

Cap. Madam, in good health,

Cath

Cath. So may he ever do, and ever flourish When I fhall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banifh'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,

I caus'd you write, yet fent away?

Pat. No, madam.

Cath. Sir, I moft humbly pray you to deliver This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Moft willing, Madam.

Cath. In which I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chafte loves, his young daughter.
The dews of heaven fall thick in bleffings on her!
Befeeching him to give her virtuous breeding,
(She's young, and of a noble modeft nature;
I hope she will deferve 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 fome pity
Upon my wretched women, that fo 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 deferves,
For virtue and true beauty of the foul;
For honefty and decent carriage,

A right good husband; let him be a noble ;

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
The laft 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 fomething over to remember me.

If Heaven had pleas'd to've given me longer life,
L

And

And able means, we had not parted thus.

Thefe are the whole contents. And, good my Lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,

As you with chriftian peace to fouls departed,
Stand thefe poor people's friend, and urge the King
To do me this last right.

Cap. Madam, I will,

Or let me lofe the fashion of a man!

Cath. I thank you, honest Lord, Remember me In all humility unto his Highness;

And tell him, his long trouble now is paffing

Out of this world.

Tell him, in death I blefs'd him;

For fo I will-Mine eyes grow dim.

Farewell,

My Lord-Griffith, farewell-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed
Call in more women- -When I'm dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; ftrew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chafte wife to my grave; embalm me,
Then lay me forth. Although unqueen'd, yet like
A Queen, and daughter to a King, inter me.
I can no more-

[Exeunt, leading Catharine.

SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND PORTIA.

FROM JULIUS CÆSAR.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Brutus alone.

BOY! Lucius!-Fast asleep. It is no matter;

Enjoy the honey heavy dew of flumber.

Thou

Thou haft no figures, nor no fantafies,

Which bufy care draws in the brains of men
Therefore thou fleep'ft fo found.

Enter PORTIA.

Por. Brutus, my Lord!

Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rife you now?

It is not for your health, thus to commit

Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

Por. Nor for yours neither.

Brutus,

You've ungently,

Stol'n from my bed; and, yesternight at fupper,
You fuddenly arofe and walk'd about,

Mufing and fighing, with your arms across ;
And, when I asked you what the matter was,
You ftar'd upon me with ungentle looks.

I urg'd you further; then you fcratch'd your head,
And too impatiently ftamp'd with your foot:
Yet I infifted; yet you answer'd not;

But with an angry wafture of your hand
Gave fign for me to leave you: fo I did,
Fearing to ftrengthen that impatience,
Which feem'd too much inkindled; and, withal,
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which fometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor fleep;
And could it work fo much upon your shape,
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your caufe of grief.