That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee;
Some little memory of me will stir him;
I know his noble nature,) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.

Crom.
O my lord,
Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers,
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And,-when I am forgotten, as I shall be;
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thee,
Say, Wolsey,-that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Crowell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?

Love thy self last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Sal in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
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. The trumpets sound coming.

Alas, good lady!(Trumpets.) stand close, the queen is

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.

Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's,

Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O CromThou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; (well, And,-Prythee, lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny; 'tis the king's my robe

And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
Iserv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol

So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. ¡Exeunt.

on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. 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, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These 1 know;

Who's that, that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent.

Marquis Dorset :

And, to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died, fearing Cod.
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 can'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and solemn music.

[quiet, Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down 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 heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, in their hands. They first congee sato her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverend curt sies; then the two, that held the garland, deliver the same to the other next two, who ob serve 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 rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music 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 thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promised 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 music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. (Music 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 earthly cold? Mark you her eyes? Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray. Heaven comfort her!

Pat.

Enter a Messenger.

You are a saucy fellow:

Mess. An't like your grace,— Kath 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." Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; My baste 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.

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.

Cap.

Noble lady, the next,

First, mine own service to your grace;
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 entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too
late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution:

That gentle physic, 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 cans'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat.

No, madam. (Giving it to Katharine.) Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Cap.

Most willing, madam. Kath. In which I have commended to his good

ness

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 lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be noble;
And, sure, those men are happy, that shall have them.
The last is, for my men;-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me;-
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by:

If heaven 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 christian peace the souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge
the king
To do me this last right.
Cap.
By heaven, I will;
Or let me lose 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 bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-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 chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.-- [Exeunt, leading Katharine.

A

ACT V.

SCENE I.-A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GARDINER, Bishop of WINCHESTER, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir THOMAS LOVELL.

Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?