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7. Duke of Suffolk, in a robe of eftate, bis coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. With him the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marfhalfhip, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS. 8. 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 fide her, the Bishops. of London and Winchester.

9. The old Dutchefs of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train. 10. Certain Ladies or Counteffes, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

They pass over the ftage in order and state, and then Exeunt, avith a great flourish of trumpets.

2 Gen. A royal train, believe me; these I know; Who's that, who bears the fcepter?

1 Gen. Marquifs Dorfet.

And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gen. A bold brave Gentleman. That should be The Duke of Suffolk.

1 Gen. 'Tis the fame: High Steward.

2 Gen. And that my Lord of Norfolk.

1 Gen. Yes.

2 Gen. Heav'n blefs thee!

Thou haft the fweeteft face I ever look'd on.

Sir, as I have a foul, fhe is an angel;

Our King has all the Indies in his arms,

And more and richer, when he trains that Lady :
I cannot blame his confcience.

1 Gen. They, that bear

The cloth of ftate above her, are four Barons

Of the Cinque-Ports.

2 Gen. Those men are happy; fo are all, are near her,

I take it, the that carries up the train,

1 Gen. It is, and all the reft are Counteffes.

Is that old noble Lady, the Dutchefs of Norfolk.

2 Gen. Their coronets fay fo. These are stars indeed

d;

And sometimes falling ones.

1. Gen. No more of that,

Enter

Enter a third Gentleman.

God fave you, Sir. Where have you been broiling? 3 Gen. Among the crowd i' th' abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled,

With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gen. You faw the ceremony?

3 Gen. I did.

1 Gen. How was it?

3 Gen. Well worth the feeing.

The rich stream

2 Gen. Good Sir, speak it to us.
3 Gen. As well as I am able.
Of Lords and Ladies, having brought the Queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off

A diftance from her; while her Grace fate down
To reft a while, fome half an hour, or fo,
In a rich chair of ftate; oppofing freely
The beauty of her person to the people:
(Believe me, Sir, fhe is the goodliest woman,
That ever lay by man ;) which when the people
Had the full view of, fuch a noife arose

As the shrouds make at fea in a stiff tempeft,
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces
Been loofe, this day they had been loft. Such joy
I never faw before. Great-belly'd women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the prefs,
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say, this is my wife there, all were woven
So ftrangely in one piece.

2 Gen. But pray what follow'd?

3 Gen. At length her Grace rofe, and with modeft paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd; and, faint-like, Caft her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people: When by the Archbishop of Canterbury Sh' had all the royal makings of a Queen; As holy oil, Edward Confeffor's Crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all fuch emblems Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,

With all the choiceft musick of the kingdom,
Together fung Te Deum. So fhe parted,
And with the fame full ftate pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feaft is held.

1 Gen. You must no more call it York-place, that's past. For fince the Cardinal fell, that title's loft,

'Tis now the King's, and call'd Whitehall.

3 Gen. I know it:

But 'tis fo lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

2 Gen. What two reverend Bishops

Were thofe, that went on each fide of the Queen ?

3 Gen. Stokely and Gardiner; the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the King's Secretary:

The other, London.

2 Gen. He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gen. All the land knows that:

However, yet there's no great breach; when't comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not fhrink from him 2 Gen. Who may that be, I pray you ?}

3 Gen. Thomas Cromwell,

A man in much efteem with th' King, and, truly,
A worthy friend. The King has made him
Mafter o'th' jewel-house,.

And one, already, of the privy-council.
2 Gen. He will deferve more.

3 Gen. Yea, without all doubt.

Come, Gentlemen, you fhall go my way,

Which is to th' Court, and there fhall be my guests :Something I can command; as I walk thither,

I'll tell ye more.

Both. You may command us, Sir.

SCENE changes to Kimbolton.

[Exeunt.

Enter Catharine Dowager, fuck, led between Griffith her Gentleman Ufher, and Patience her woman.

OW does your Grace?

Grif⋅ Ho

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death:

My legs, like loaded branches, bow to th' earth,

Willing

Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair

So -now, methinks, I feel a little eafe. [Sitting down.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'ft me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey,
Was dead?

Grif. Yes, Madam; but I think your Grace,
Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to't.
Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd..
If well, he ftept before me happily,

For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, Madam.

For after the ftout Earl of Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (27)
(As a man forely tainted) to his answer,

He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill
He could not fit his mule.

Cath. Alas, poor man!

Grif. At laft, with eafy roads he came to Leicester;
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the rev'rend 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 fickness
Purfu'd him ftill, and three nights after this,

(27) Arrefted him at York.] The Earl of Northumberland, and Sig Walter Walsh, one of the King's privy chamber, arrefted Wolfey of treafon, at his houfe at Cawood in Yorkshire on Friday the 4th of November 1530. On Sunday evening following, in order to be brought up to London, he was removed to Pomfret; on Monday, to Doncafter; and on Tuesday, to the Earl of Shrewsbury's feat at Sheffield Park. Here he was indulg'd to stay upwards of a fortnight; and here, on Tuefday the 22d, was feiz'd with his laft illness. On Thursday the 24th he began his journey afresh, tho' not recover'd of his flux, and was carried to another house of the Lord Shrewsbury's call'd Hardwick-Hall; the next day, to Nottingham; and on Saturday evening, in a languishing condition was brought to the abbey at Leicester. He immediately took his bed, and on Tuesday following, being the 29th of November, and eve of St. Andrew, expir'd there.--This fhort Journal, of the laft ftage in life, of fo confiderablé a man, I have thought proper to trace backwards; as imagining, it might not be difpleafing to certain.curious readers,

About

About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold, fhould be his laft) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears and forrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His bleffed part to heav'n, and flept in peace.

Cath. So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him! (28)
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to fpeak him,
And yet with charity; he was a man

Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking
Himself with Princes: one, that by fuggeftion
Ty'd all the kingdom; fimony was fair play:
His own opinion was his law. I' th' presence
He would fay untruths, and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning. He was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.

His promifes were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble Madam,

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

Cath. Yes, good Griffith,

I were malicious elfe.

Grif. This Cardinal, (29)

Though

(28) His faults lie buried with bim!] This reading was firft adopted by Mr. Rowe; all the old copies have it, as I have reftor'd in the text. The poet feem's to have in his eye the customary wish among the Latins, Sit tibi terra levis! Which Beaumont and Fletcher have exprefs'd in their MAJD's Tragedy;

Upon my buried body lay lightly, gentle earth! The oppofite to this expreffion of our poet's here, his faults lie gently on him!-occurs frequently in menace to Richard 3d, from the ghofts of those whom he had murder'd:

Let me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow!

Let us be laid within thy bofom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin!

(29)

-This Cardinal

Though from an bumble flock, undoubtedly

Was fafbion'd to much honour. From bis cradle

He was a fcholar, and a ripe, and good one;] Thus this paffage has

hitherto

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