Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour, from his cradle ;
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wife, fair fpoken, and perfuading;
Lofty and four to them, that lov'd him not;
But to thofe men, that fought him, fweet as fummer.
And though he were unfatisfy'd in getting,
(Which was a fin) yet in beftowing, Madam,
He was most princely: Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
Ipfwich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to out-live the good he did it:
The other, though unfinish'd, yet fo famous,
So excellent in art, and still fo rifing,
That Chriftendom fhall ever fpeak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the bleffedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he dy'd, fearing God,
Cath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But fuch an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hait made me,
With thy religious truth and modefty,

Now in his afhes honour. Peace be with him!
Patience, be near me ftill, and fet me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Caufe the muficians play me that fad note,
I nam'd my knell; whilft I fit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and folemn mufick.

Grif. She is afleep: good wench, let's fit down quiet, For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

hitherto been most abfurdly pointed. That Wolfey should be a ripe fcholar from his cradle, is most extraordinary and incredible. My alteration of the pointing, I dare be pofitive, gives us the poet's meaning; and expreffes that character, which, Holing head tells us, Edmund Campian, in his hiftory of Ireland, had given of the Cardinal, that he was a man undoubtedly born to honour,

The

The vifion. Enter folemnly one after another, fix perfonages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a Spare garland over her head: at which, the other four make reverend curtfies. Then the two, that held the garland, deliver the fame to the other next two; who obferve the fame order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the fame garland to the last two, who likewise observe the fame order: (At which, as it were by infpiration, she makes in her fleep figns of rejoycing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven.) And fo in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The mufick continues.

Cath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? Grif. Madam, we're here.

Cath. It is not you I call for;

Saw ye none enter, fince I flept ?
Grif. None, Madam.

Cath. No faw you not ev'n now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whofe bright faces
Caft thousand beams upon me, like the fun?
They promis'd me eternal happiness,

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I fhall affuredly.
Grif. I am moft joyful, Madam, fuch good dreams
Poffefs your fancy.

Cath. Bid the mufick leave,

'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note,

[Mufick ceafes.

How much her Grace is alter'd on the fudden?

How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold? obferve her eyes.

Grif. She is going, wench. Pray, pray,

Pat. Heav'n comfort her!

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. And't like your Grace

Cath:

Cath. You are a faucy fellow,

Deserve we no more rev'rence?
Grif. You're to blame,

Knowing, the will not lofe her wonted greatness,
To ufe fo rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.

Mef. I humbly do intreat your Highness' pardon:
My hafte made me unmannerly. There is flaying
A gentleman, fent from the King, to fee you.

Cath. Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this fellow Let me ne'er fee again. [Exit Messenger.

Enter Lord Capucius.

If my fight fail not,

You should be Lord Ambaffador from the Emperor,
My royal nephew; and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the fame, your fervant.

Cath. O my Lord,

The times and titles now are alter'd strangely

With me, fince first you knew me.

What is your pleasure with me?

Cap. Noble Lady,

But, I pray you,

Firft, mine own fervice to your Grace; the next,

The King's request that I would vifit you;

Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me

Sends you his princely commendations,

And heartily intreats you take good comfort.

Cath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late ;

'Tis like a pardon after execution;

That gentle phyfick, giv'n in time, had cur'd me;
But now I'm paft all comforts here, but prayers.

How does his Highness?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Cath. So may he ever do, and ever flourish, When I fhall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,

I caus'd you write, yet fent away?

Pat. No, Madam.

Cath. Sir, I must humbly pray you to deliver

This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Moft willing, Madam.

Cath. In which I have commended to his goodness

The

The model of our chafte loves, his young daughter;
(The dews of heav'n fall thick in bleffings on her!)
Befeeching him to give her virtuous breeding,
(She's young, and of a noble modeft nature;
I hope, fhe will deferve well) and a little

To love her for her mother's fake, that lov'd him,
Heav'n knows, how dearly! My next poor petition
Is, that his noble Grace would have fome pity
Upon my wretched women, that fo long
Have follow'd both fortunes faithfully;
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I fhould not lye) but well deserve,
For virtue and true beauty of the foul,
For honefty and decent carriage,

my

A right good husband, let him be a noble:

And, fure, thofe men are happy, that shall have 'em.
The laft is for my men; they are the pooreft,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me;
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
And fomething over to remember me.

If heav'n had pleas'd to've giv'n me longer life
And able means, we had not parted thus.

These are the whole contents. And, good my Lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,

As you wish chriftian peace to fouls departed,
Stand thefe poor peoples friend, and urge the King
To do me this last right.

Cap. By heav'n, I will;

Or let me lofe the fashion of a man.

Cath. I thank you, honeft Lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highness;

And tell him, his long trouble now is paffing
Out of this world. Tell him, in death I blest him;
For fo I will-mine eyes grow dim. Farewel,
My Lord-Griffith, farewel-nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed——
Call in more women-When I'm dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; ftrew me over
With maiden flow'rs, that all the world may know
I was a chafte wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth; although un-queen'd, yet like

A

A Queen, and daughter to a King, interr me.

I can no more

[Exeunt, leading Catharine.

SCENE, the Palace.

Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovel.

Gard. Thefe fhould be hours for neceffities, Nor for delights; times, to repair our nature

With comforting repofe, and not for us

To waste these times.

Whither fo late?

Good hour of night, Sir Thomas;

Lovel. Came you from the King, my Lord ?
Gard. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lovel. I must to him too,

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gard. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovel; what's the matter?

It seems, you are in hafte: And if there be

No great offence belongs to't, give your friend

Some touch of your late bufinefs. Affairs, that walk (As they fay, fpirits do) at midnight, have

In them a wilder nature, than the business
That feeks dispatch by day.

Lov. My Lord, I love you:

And durft commend a fecret to your ear.

Much weightier than this work. The Queen's in labour, They fay, in great extremity; 'tis fear'd,

She'll with the labour end.

Gard. The fruit fhe goes with

I pray for heartily, that it may find

Good time, and live; but for the ftock, Sir Thomas,

I