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Sir,

She is a gallant creature, and complete

| There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Papers of state he sent me to peruse, Will fall some blessings to this land.

As I requir'd : And wot you what I found

There ; on my conscience, put unwittingly ! Enter Wolser and Cromwell.

Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing, Nor. Observe, observe, he's moody. The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which king?

I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks Crom. To his own hand, in his bedchamber. Possession of a subject. Wol. Look”d he o' the inside of the papers ? Nor.

It's Heaven's will :
Crom.

Presently Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
He did unseal them; and the first he view'd, To bless your eye withal.
He did it with a serious mind; a heed

K. Hen.

If we did think Was in his countenance : You, he bade

His contemplation were above the earth, Attend him here this morning.

And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still Wol.

Is he ready Dwell in his musings : but, I am afraid, To come abroad?

His thinkings are below the moon, not worth Crom.

I think by this he is. His serious considering. : Wol. Leave me a while. (Exit CROMWELL. [He takes his seat, and whispers Lovell, It shall be to the Duchess of Alençon,

who goes to WOLSEY. The French king's sister : he shall marrry her.

Wol.

Heaven forgive me !
Anne Bullen ! No, l'll no Anne Bullens for him : Ever God bless your highness!
There is no more in it than fair visage.-Bullen !! K. Hen.

Good, my lord, No, we'll no Bullens.-Speedily I wish

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inTo hear from Rome.-The Marchioness of Pem

ventory broke!

Of your best graces in your mind; the which Nor. He's discontented.

You were now running o'er; you bave scarce time Suf.

May be, he hears the king To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
Does whet his anger to him.

To keep your earthly audit; Sure, in that
Sur.
Sharp enough,

I deem you an ill husband ; and am glad
Lord, for thy justice!

To have you therein my companion.
Wol. The late queen’s gentlewoman; a knight's! Wol.
daughter,

For holy offices I have a time; a time
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen! To think upon the part of business which
This candle burns not clear; 'tis I must snuff it; I bear i' the state ; and nature does require
Then out it goes. What though I know her vir- Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
tuous,

I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, And well deserving ? yet I know her for

Must give my tendance to. A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to

K. Hen.

You have said well. Our cause. Again, there is sprunggup

Wo And ever may your highness yoke togeAn heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one

ther, Hath crawled into the favour of the king,

As I will lend you cause, my doing well And is his oracle.

With my well saying! Nor. He is vexed at something.

K. Hen.

'Tis well said again ; Suf. I would 'twere something that would fret And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well : the string,

And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you: The master-chord of his heart !

He said he did ; and with his deed did crown

His word upon you. Since I had my office, Enter the King, reading a schedule; and Lovell. I how

I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Suf.

The king, the king. | Employ'd you where high profits might come K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accu

home,
mulated

But par'd my present havings, to bestow
To his own portion! and what expense by the hour My bounties upon you.
Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of Wol.

What should this mean? thrift,

Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside. Does he rake this together ?--Now, my lords, K. Hen.

Have I not made you Saw you the cardinal ?

The prime man of the state ? I pray you, tell me, Nor. My lord, we have

If what I now pronounce you have found true : Stood here observing him : Some strange commo. And, if you may confess it, say withal, tion

If you are bound to us, or no. What say you? Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts; Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight, My studied purposes requite; which went Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again, Beyond all men's endeavours :- I do profess Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts | That for your highness' good I ever labour'd His eye against the moon; in most strange pos More than mine own; that am, have, and will be. tures

Though all the world should crack their duty to We have seen him set himself. K, Hen. It may well be;

And throw it from their soul; though perils did

you.

Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and Fall into the compass of a præmunire,
Appear in forms more horrid ; yet my duty, That therefore such a writ be sued against you ;
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,

To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Should the approach of this wild river break, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be,
And stand unshaken yours.

Out of the king's protection:- This is my charge. K. Hen.

'Tis nobly spoken; Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations Take novice, lords, he has a loyal breast, How to live better. For your stubborn answer, For you have seen him open't. --- Read o'er this; About the giving back the great seal to us,

[Giving him papers. The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank And, after, this : then to breakfast, with

you. What appetite you have.

So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal. [Exit King, frowning upon Cardinal WOLSEY:

[Exeunt all but WOLSEY. the Nobles throng after him, smiling and Wol. So farewell to the little go d you bear me. whispering.

| Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! W01. What should this mean? This is the state of man: To day he puts forth

This is the state of man: To What sudden anger's this ? how havel reap'd it? The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossums, He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

And bears his blushing honours thiek upon him : Leap'd from his eyes ; so looks the chafed lion The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; Upon the daring huntsman that has gall’d him ; | And, --when he thinks, good easy man, full surely Then makes bim nothing. I must read this paper: His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root, I fear, the story of his anger. -"Tis so:

| And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur’d, This paper has undone me; 'Tis the account Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together | This many summers in a sea of glory; For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, But far beyond my depth : My high-blown pride And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, | At length broke under me; and now has left me, Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil | Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Made me put this main secret in the packet Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. I sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this? Vain pump and glory of this world, I hate ye ; No new device to beat this from his brains ? | I feel my heart new open'd: 0, how wretched I know 'twill stir him strongly; Yet I know Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune, | There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, Will bring me off again. What's this—“To the That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, Pope?”

More pangs and fears than wars or women have; The letter, as I live, with all the business And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, I writ to his holiness. Nay, then, farewell! Never to hope again.I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness: And, from that full meridian of my glory,

Enter Cromwell, amazedly. I haste now to my setting. I shall fall

Why, how now, Cromwell? Like a bright exhalation in the evening,

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. And no man see me more.

Wol.

What, amaz'd Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and SUFFOLK, the

At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder

| A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain. |

I am fallen indeed. Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal : who

Crom.

How does your grace ? commands you

Wol.

Why, well; To render up the great seal preg ntly

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
Into our hands; and to confine yourself

I know myself now; and I feel within me
To Asher House, my lord of Winchester's, A peace above all earthly dignities,
Till you hear further from his highness.

A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd Wol.

me, Where's your commission, lords ? words cannot I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulcarry

ders, Authority so weighty.

These ruin’d pillars, out of pity, taken Who dares cross them, A load would sink a navy, too much honour : Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?0, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,

Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to doit Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. (I mean your malice), know, officious lords, Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right ì dare, and must deny it. That seal

use of it. You ask with such a violence, the king

Wo?. I hope I have : I am able now, methinks (Mine, and your master) with his own hand gave me: (Out of a fortitude of soul, I feel), Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, To endure more miseries, and greater far, During my life, and, to confirm his goodness, Than my weakhearted enemies dare offer. Tied it by letters patent: Now, who'll take it? What news abroad? Sur. The king that gave it.

| Crom.

The heaviest, and the worst, Wol.

It must be himself, then. Is your displeasure with the king. Suf. Lord Cardinal, the king's further pleasure Wol.

God bless him ! is,

| Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is Because all those think you have done of late

chosen By your power legatine within this kingdom, Lord chancellor in your place.

Stay,

Suf.

Wol.

That's somewhat sudden; | Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear But he's a learned man. May he continue | In all my miseries : but thou hast forc'd me, Long in his highness' favour, and do justice Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. For truth's sake, and his cons ience; that his bones, Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, CromWhen he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,

well; May ha e a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em! And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; What more!

And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Of me more must be heard of, --say, I taught thee; Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Say, Wolsey,—that once trod the ways of glory, Wol. That's news indeed.

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Crom.

Last, that the Lady Anne, Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in ; Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. This day was view'd in open, as his queen, Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Going to chapel ; and the voice is now

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; Only about her coronation.

By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, Wol. There was the weight that pulled me The image of his Maker, hope to win by’t? down. O Cromwell,

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate The king has gone beyond me; all my glories

thee; In that one woman I have lost for ever :

Corruption wins not more than honesty. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, Or gild again the noble troops that waited To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Crom- Let all the ends thou ain'st at be thy country's, well,

| Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall’st, O I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now

Cromwell, To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; . That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him And, Prithee, lead me in: What, and how true thou art : he will advance thee; | There, take an inventory of all I have, Some little memory of me will stir him

To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, (I know his noble nature), not to let

And my integrity to Heaven, is all Thy hopeful service perish too : Good Cromwell, I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, CromNeglect him not; make use now, and provide

well, For thine own future safety.

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
Crom.
O, my lord,

I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Must I then leave you must I needs forego Have left me naked to mine enemies.
So good, so noble, and so true a master ?

Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, Wol.

So I have. Farewell With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord, - The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. The king shall have my service; but my prayers

[Exeunt. For ever and for ever shall be yours.

ACT IV.

SCENE.-Kimbolton.

He could not sit bis mule.
Kath.

Alas, poor man!
Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick ; led between

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to GRIFFITH and Patience.

Leicester, Grif. How does your grace ?

Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, Kath.

. , Griffith, sick to death : With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him;
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, To whom he gave these words,—“O father abbot,
Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair ;- | An old man, broken with the storms of state,
So,-now, methinks, I feel a little ease.

Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, Give him a little earth for charity!"
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness
Was dead?

Pursued him still; and, three nights after this,
Grif. "Yes, madam ; but I think your grace, About the hour of eight (which he himself
Out of the pain you suffer'', gave no ear to't. Foretold should be his last), full of repentance,
Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
died:

He gave his honours to the world again, If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, i

His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace. For my example.

Kath. So may he rest, his faults lie gently on Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam :

him! For after the stout Earl Northumberland

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak hin, Arrested him at York, and brought him forward And yet with charity :-He was a man (As a man sorely tainted) to his answer,

Of an unbounded stomach, * ever ranking lle fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,

* Pride.

Cap.

Ilimself with princes; one, that by suggestion | Deserve we no more reverence ?
Tied all the kingdoms : simony was fair play; 1 Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon:
His own opinion was his lav : l' the presence My baste made me unmannerly: There is staying
He would say untruths; and be ever double, a gentleman, sent from the king, to see you."
Both in his words and meaning: He was never, | Kath. Admit bim entrance, Griffith : But this
But where be meant to ruin, pitiful :

fellow
His promises were, as he then was, mighty; Let me ne'er see again.
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.

[Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger. Of bis own body he was ill, and gave

Re-enter Griffith, with CAPUCIUS.
The clergy ill example.

Kath. What is your pleasure with me?
Grif,
Noble madam,

Noble lady,
Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
We write in water. May it please your highness The king's request that I would visit you ;
To hear me speak his good now?

Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Kath.

Yes, good Griffith ;| Sends you his princely commendations, I were malicious else.

| And heartily entreats you take good comfort. · Grif. This cardinal

Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

late; Was fashion'd to much bonour from bis cradle. | 'Tis like a pardon after execution : He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one: That gentle physic, given in time, had curd me; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: | But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not; How does his highness ? But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Cap.

Madam, in good health. summer.

Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, And tbough he were unsatisfied in getting When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam,

name He was most princely;

2âÒ§2§Â?2?/m2?Â2Ò2ÂÒ\\–2ņģ2 /2ņģēņēmēģ2ņēmēģēm And, to add greater honours to his age

I caus'd you write, yet sent away? Than man could give him, be died fearing God. Pat. No, madam. [Giving it to Kath, · Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, Kath. Sir, I most bumbly pray you to delivur No other speaker of my living actions,

This to my lord the king. To keep mine honour from corruption,

Сар.

Most willing, madam. But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

Kath. In which I have commended to his good. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,

ness With thy religious truth and modesty,

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter: Now in his ashes honour; Peace be with him! The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!Patience, be near me still; and set me lower. Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding I bave not long to trouble thee.--Good Griffith, (She is young, and of a noble modest nature; Cause the musicians play me that sad note Ì hope she will deserve well); and a little I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating

To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, On that celestial harmony I go to.

Heaven knows how dearly. Remember me
Sad and solemn music.

In all humility unto his highness :

Say, bis long trouble now is passing Pat.

Do you note, Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him, How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? For so I will.- Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,' How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience, And of an earthy cold! Mark her eyes ! You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Kath.

Bid the music leave. Call in more women. - When I am dead, good They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases.

wench, Grif. She is going, wench ; pray, pray.; Let me be us’d with honour ; strew me over Pat.

Heaven comfort her! | With maiden flowers, that all the world may know Enter a Messenger.

I was a chaste wife to my grave; embalm me,

Then lay me forth: although unqueen’d, yet like Mess. An't like your grace,

| A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. Kath. You are a saucy fellow: I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Kath.

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CORIOLAN U S.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

CARIOLANUS, a noble Roman, and General.
Titus Lartius and CominIUS, Gonerals.
Menenius AGRIPPA, friend to Coriolanus,
Sicinius, } tribunes of the people.
JUNIUS BRUTUS, S"

Tullus AUFIDIUS, general of the Volscians.
VOLUMNIA, mother to Coriolanus.
VIRGILIA, wife to Coriolanus.
VALERIA, friend to Virgilia.

Citizens, guards, servants, fc.

ACT I.

SCENE.-Rome. An Apartment in Marcius'! Vir. His bloody brow! 0, Jupiter, no blood ! house.

Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man Entez VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA: They sit down on

| Than gilt his trophy :- Tell Valeria

We are fit to bid her welcome. (Exit Gent. two low stools, and sew.

Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius ! Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee, yourself in a more comfortable sort: If my son And tread up his neck. were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour, than in his em- Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA, and her bracements, where he would show most love.

Usher. When yet be was but tender-bodied, when youth Val. My ladies both, good day to you. with comeliness plucked all gaze his way; when, Vol. Sweet madam. for a day of king's entreaties, a mother should not Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. sell him an hour from her beholding: 1,--consider-/ Val. How do you both? you are manifest houseing how honour would become such a person; that keepers. What are you sewing here? A fine it was no better than picture-like to hang by the spot, in good faith.-How does your litle son ? wall, if renown made it not stir, -was pleased to " Vir. I thank your ladysbip; well, good madam, let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. Val. He had rather see the swords, and hear a To a cruel war I sent him; whence he returned drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. with his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, Val. 0' my word, the father's son; I'll swear daughter, -I sprang not more in joy at first hear- 'tis a very pretty boy. Omy trotb, I looked upon ing he was a man-child, than now in first seeing him o' Wednesday half an hour together : he has he had proved himself a man.

such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run Vir. But had he died in the business, madam ? after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, how then?

he let it go again; and after it again ; and over Vol. Then his good report should have been my and over he comes, and up again; catched it again : son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me or whether his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he profess sincerely :-Had I a dozen sons, each in did so set his teeth, and tear it; 0, I warrant, how my love alike, and none less dear than thine and i he mammocked it! my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die Vol. One of his father's moods. nobly for their country, than one voluptuously · Val. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. surfeit out of action.

Vir. A crack, madam,
Enter a Gentlewoman.

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit have you play the idle huswife with me this afteryou.

noon, Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire my Vir. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. self.

Val. Not out of doors? Vol. Indeed you shall not.

Vol. She sball, she shall. Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum; Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience : I will not See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair ; over the threshold till my lord return from the As children from a bear, the Volces shunning bim: wars. Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,- Val. You would be another Penelope : yet, they “Come on, you cowards !". His bloody brow say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes; but fill Ithaca full of moths. Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow

Val. In truth, la, go with me, and I'll tell you Or all, or lose his bire.

excellent news of your husband.

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