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 : 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. A diftance from her; while her Grace fate down As the shrouds make at fea in a stiff tempeft, 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, 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 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, 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, And one, already, of the privy-council. 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. Grif. Yes, Madam; but I think your Grace, 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) He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill Cath. Alas, poor man! Grif. At laft, with eafy roads he came to Leicester; Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; (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 Cath. So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him! (28) Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking His promifes were, as he then was, mighty; Grif. Noble Madam, Men's evil manners live in brafs, their virtues 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, (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 |