2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains,

That paper in your hand?

1 Gent. Yes; 'tis the list

Of those, that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward; next the duke of Nor-
folk,

He to be earl marshal; you may read the rest.
2 Gent. I thank you, Sir; bad I not known
those customs,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katha-
rine,

The princess dowager! how goes her business?
1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The arch-
bishop

Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to
which

She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not;
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which, she was remov'd to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.

2 Gent. Alas, good lady!—

[Trumpets.

The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

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

2. The Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.

3. Choristers singing.

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

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 coun
tessses.

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 ?

2 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

The ceremony?

3 Gent. That I did.

1 Gent. 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 Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, 5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, gold, on his head a demi-coronal of (Doublets, I think,) flew up: and had their gold. With him the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such crowned with an earl's coronet. Col. joy lars of SS.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his
coronet on his head, bearing a long
With
white wand, as high-steward.
him, the duke of Norfolk, with the
rod of marshalship, 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 London, and Winchester.
8. The old duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of
gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the
Queen's train.

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

faces

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,

No man

And make them reel before them.
living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were
So strangely in one piece.

woven

2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd?

2 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with
modest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and,
Cast
saint-like,

her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd de

voutly.

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;

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.--These I As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

know ;

Who's that, that bears the sceptre ?

1 Gent. Marquis Dorset:

And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such em-
blems

Laid nobly on her; which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,

3 Gent, Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Of his own body he was ill, and gave 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 be-
tween 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

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 carl 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
Pursued him still; and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold should be his last,) fuli of repentance
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave bis 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
Tied 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 ineaning: 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.

The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highnes
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.

cradle,

From his

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,
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 religions 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 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 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 music 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.

Kith. It is not you I call for.
Saw ye none enter, since 1 slept ?
Grif. None, madani.

Set a lewd example in his own pre
Formed for.
↑ Iprvi

By that you love the dearest in this world, great-As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king

To pray for her? what, is she crying cut?
Lov. So said her woman; and that her suffer
ance made

Almost each pang a death.

K. Hen. Alas, good lady!

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of

Your highness with an heir!

K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles,

Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
Sir The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that, which company
Will not be friendly to.

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare Ha!—I have said.-Begone.

Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard | Said I for this, the girl is like to him?