Of all these learned men she was divorc'd, And the late marriage made of none effect: Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent.

Alas, good lady!— [Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of Trumpets; then, enter

1. Two Judges.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before

him.

3. Choristers singing. [Musick. 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown. 5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as highsteward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS.

7. 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 side of her, the Bishops of London and Winchester. 8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, hearing the Queen's train. 9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I know ;

Who's that, that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent.

Marquis Dorset: And that the earl of Surrey with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: And that

should be

The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent.

'Tis the same; high steward.

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk?

1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.

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 arms,

And more, and richer, when he strains that lady; I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent.

They, that bear 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.

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 broiling?

3 Gent. Among the crowd 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

That I did.

How was it?

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent.

Good sir, speak it to us. 3 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 a while, 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

VOL. VI.

F

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-bellied 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 woven
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent.

But, pray, what follow'd? 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with

modest paces [like, Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintCast 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 She had all the royal makings of a queen; As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir, 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 altered, 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, of 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. However, yet there's no great breach; when it

All the land knows that:

comes,

[him.

Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from

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

3 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.

SCENE II. Kimbolton.

[Exeunt.

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 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 mule.

Alas! poor man!

Kath.
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,-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 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.

Noble madam,

Grif. 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.

I were malicious else.

Yes, good Griffith;

Grif. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as

summer.

And though he were unsatisfied in getting
(Which was a sin), yet, in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely; Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him.
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.