2. Gent. Heaven bless thee!

[Looking on the Queen.

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. →
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our King has all the Indies in his arins,

And more, and richer, when he strains that lady:

I cannot blame his conscience.

1. Gent. They, that hear

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.' Yog 1. Gent. It is; and all the rest are Countesses. 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 broil

ing?

3. Gent. Among the croud 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?

5.Gent. That I did.

1. Gent. How was it?

།

3. Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2. Gent, Good Sir, speak it to us.

5. 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 awhile, 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
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-helly'd women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were

So strangely in one piece.

Woven

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

3. Gent. At length her Grace rose, and with

༣༩

modest-paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintlike,

Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again, and how'd her to the people ;
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury

She had all the royal makings of a Queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

She rod, and bird of peace, and all snch em¬

blems

Lay'd nobly on her: which perform'd, the chair,

With all the choicest musick of the kingdom,
Together sung Te deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1. Gent. Sir, you

Must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the King's, and call'd Whitehall.

3. Gent. I know it;

But 'tis 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

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:

of

However, yet there's no great breach; when it

2. Gent. Who may that be, I pray you?

5. 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 between 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

me,

That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

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 Earl of 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 inule,

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,

bot,

O father Ab-
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,
Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his 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
Ty'd 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 meaning: 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.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example,

Grif. Noble Madain,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me speak his good now?

Kath. Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious else.

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