Grif.
How does your Grace?

Kath.
O Griffith, sick to death:
My Legs like loaded Branches bow to Earth,
Willing to leave their Burthen: Reach a Chair—
So—now methinks I feel a little ease. [Sitting down.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou lead'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.
Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd.
If well, he stept 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.

Kath.
Alas, poor Man.

Grif.
At last, with easie Roads he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the Abby; 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 lye bury'd with 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'th' 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 now is, Nothing;
Of his own Body he was ill, and gave
The Clergy ill Example.

Grif.
Noble Madam,
Mens 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.

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 out-live 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.
His Overthrow heap'd Happiness upon him;
For then, and not 'till then, he felt himself,
And found the Blessedness of being little.
And to add greater Honours to his Age
Than Man could give him; he dy'd, fearing God.

Kath.
After my Death, I wish no other Herald,
No other Speaker of my living Actions,
To keep mine Honour from Corruption,
But such an honest Chronicler, as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me
With thy religious Truth and Modesty,
Now in his Ashes, Honour; Peace be with him.
Patience, be near me still, and set me lower.
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the Musicians play me that sad Note
I nam'd my Knell; whilst I sit meditating
On that Celestial Harmony, I go to. Sad and solemn Musick.

Grif.
She is asleep: Good Wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. The Vision. Enter solemnly tripping one after another, six Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their Head 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 Curtsies. Then the two, that held the Garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their Changes, and holding the Garland over her Head. Which done, they deliver the same Garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same Order. At which, as it were by Inspiration, she makes, in her sleep, signs of rejoycing, and holdeth up her Hands to Heaven. And so in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Musick continues.

Kath.
Spirits of Peace, where are ye? are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Grif.
Madam, we are here.

Kath.
It is not you I call for,
Saw ye none enter, since I slept?

Grif.
None, Madam.

Kath.
No? Saw you not even now a blessed Troop
Invite me to a Banquet, whose bright Faces
Cast a thousand Beams upon me, like the Sun?
They promis'd me eternal Happiness,
And brought me Garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall assuredly.

Grif.
I am most joyful, Madam, such good Dreams
Possess your Fancy.

Kath.
Bid the Musick leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me. [Musick ceases.

Pat.
Do you note
How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her Face is drawn? How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark her Eyes.

Grif.
She is going, Wench. Pray, pray,—

Pat.
Heaven comfort her. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
And't like your Grace—

Kath.
You are a sawcy Fellow,
Deserve we no more Reverence?

Grif.
You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted Greatness
To use so rude Behaviour. Go to, kneel.

Mes.
I humbly do intreat your Highness Pardon,
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you.

Kath.
Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this Fellow
Let me ne'er see again. [Exit Messenger. Enter Lord Capucius.
If my sight fail me not,
You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
My Royal Nephew, and your Name Capucius.

Cap.
Madam, the same, your Servant.

Kath.
O my Lord,
The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me.
But I pray you,

What is your Pleasure with me?

Cap.
Noble Lady,
First mine own Service to your Grace, the next
The King's request that I would visit you,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his Princely Commendations,
And heartily intreats you take good Comfort.

Kath.
O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late,
'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
That gentle Physick given in time had cur'd me:
But now I am past all Comforts here, but Prayers.
How does his Highness?

Cap.
Madam, in good Health.

Kath.
So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with Worms, and my poor Name
Banish'd the Kingdom. Patience, is that Letter
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat.
No, Madam.

Kath.
Sir, I must humbly pray you to deliver
This to my Lord the King.

Cap.
Most willingly, Madam.

Kath.
In which I have commended to his Goodness
The Model of our chaste loves, his young Daughter,
The dews of Heaven fall thick in Blessings on her,
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding.
She is young, and of a Noble modest Nature,
I hope she will deserve well, and a little
To love her for her Mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly.
My next poor Petition
Is, that his Noble Grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched Women, that so long
Have follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
And now I should not lye, but well deserve
For Virtue, and true Beauty of the Soul,
For Honesty, and decent Carriage,
A right good Husband, let him be a Noble,
And sure those Men are happy that shall have 'em.
The last is for my Men, they are the poorest,
But Poverty could never draw 'em from me,

That they may have their Wages duly paid 'em,
And something over to remember me by.
If Heav'n had pleas'd to have given 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 peace to Christian Souls departed,
Stand these poor Peoples Friend, and urge the King
To do me this last Right.

Cap.
By Heaven I will,
Or let me loose the fashion of a Man.

Kath.
I thank you, honest Lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his Highness;
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this World. Tell him, in death I blest him,
For so 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 am dead, good Wench,
Let me be us'd with Honour, strew me over
With Maiden Flowers, that all the World may know
I was a chast Wife to my Grave: Embalm me,
Then lay me forth, although un-Queen'd, yet like
A Queen, and Daughter to a King, inter me.
I can no more. [Exeunt, leading Katharine.

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