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Kath.

It is not you I call for: Saw ye none enter, since I slept? Grif:

None, madam. 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. Í am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. Kath.

Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music 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.

You are a saucy fellow :
Deserve we no more reverence?
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' pardon; 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 Grif. and Mess. 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.

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O my lord,

The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
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 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 physic, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?
Сар.

Madam, in good health.
Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom !-Patience, is that letter,
I caus’d you write, yet sent away?
Pat.

No, madam.

[Giving it to Katharine. Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Cap.

Most willing, madam. Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter :The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature; I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is, that his noble grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long, Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully: Of which there is not one, I dare avow (And now I should not lie), but will deserve, For virtue, and true beauty of the soul, For honesty, and decent carriage, A right good husband, let him be a noble;

! And, sure,

those men are happy that shall have them. The last is, for my men :-they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw them from me;That they inay have their wages duly paid them, And something over to remember me by; If heaven had pleas’d to have given me longer life, And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents:-And, good my lord, By that you love the dearest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, Sland these poor people's friend, and urge the king To do me this last right. Cap.

By heaven, I will; Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me In all humility unto his highness : Say, his long trouble now is passing Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless'd him, For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell, My lord.Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience, You inust not leave me yet. I must to bed ; Call in inore women.-When I am dead, good wench, Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste 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 Katharine. SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester ; a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell. Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? Boy.

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It hath struck. Gür. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. Good hour of night, sir Thomas; Whither so late? Lov.

Caine you from the king, my lord ? Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero With the duke of Suffolk. Lov.

I must to him, too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? It seems, you are in haste: an if there be

a great offence belongs to't, give your friend

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Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk
(As, they say, spirits do), at midnight, have
În them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.
Loo.

My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Mach weightier than this work. The queen’s in labour,
They say, in great extremity; and fear’d,
She'll with the labour end.
Gar.

The fruit, she goes with,
I pray for heartily; that it may find
Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.
Lov.

Methinks, I could
Cry the amon; and yet my conscience says,
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
Gar.

But, sir, sir,-
Hear me, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
"Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
Lov.

Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'di'the kingdom. As for Cromwell, -
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him: The archbishop
Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak
One syllable against him?
Gar.

Yes, yes, sir Thomas, There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day, Sir (I may tell it you), I think, I have Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is (For so I know he is, they know he is), À most arch heretic, a pestilence That does infect the land: with which they moved,

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