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In all my miferies: but thou haft forc'd me,
Out of thy honeft truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And when I am forgotten, as I fhall be,

And fleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me muft more be heard, fay then, I taught thee;
Say Wolfey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And founded all the depths and fhoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rife in,
A fure and fafe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that fin fell the angels: How can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't?
Love thyself laft; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To filence envious tongues. Be juft, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'ft at be thy Country's,

Thy God's, and Truth's; then, if thou fall'ft, O Cromwell,
Thou fall'ft a bleffed martyr. Serve the King;
And-Pr'ythee, lead me in;

There take an inventory of all I have;
To the laft penny, 'tis the King's.

And my integrity to heaven, is all

My robe,

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but ferv'd my God with half the zeal

I ferv'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. Farewel

The hopes of Court! My hopes in heaven do dwell.

[Exeunt

N° XVI.

No. XVI.-KING HENRY VIII.

ACT IV. SCENE 11. Kimbolton.

Enter Catharine Dowager, fick, led between Griffith, ber Gentleman-Ufber, and Patience, her Woman.

GRIFFITH.

How does your Grace?

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death:

My legs, like loaded branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair
So-now, methinks, I feel a little eafe.

Didft thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'ft me,
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey,
Was dead?

Griff. Yes, madam; but I think your Grace,
Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to 't.
Cath Prythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died;
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,

For my example.

Griff. Well, the voice goes, madam :

For after the ftout Earl Northumberland

Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (As a man forely tainted) to his answer,

He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill,

He could not fit his mule.

Cath. Alas, poor man!

Griff. At laft, 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 forms 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 fickness
Purfu'd him ftill; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight (which he himself
Foretold fhould be his laft) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and forrows,
He
gave his honours to the world again,
His bleffed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.

N 4

Cathe

Cath. So may he reft, his faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to fpeak him, And yet with charity-he was a man

Of an undoubted ftomach, ever ranking
Himself with Princes; one, that by fuggeftion.
Ty'd all the kingdom: fimony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: i' the prefence
He would fay untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning: he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:
His promifes 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.

Griff. Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brafs; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me fpeak his good now? ̧

Cath. Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious elfe.

Griff. This Cardinal,

Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle
He was a fcholar,, and a ripe and good one:
Exceeding wife, fair ípoken, 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 moft princely: ever witnels for him
Thofe twins of learning, that he rais'd in you,
Jpfwich and Oxford; one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet fo famous,
So excellent in art, and ftill fo rifing,
That Christendom fhall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the bleffednefs of being little;
And, to add greater honours to his age
'Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

Cath

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 honeft chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,

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, whilst I fit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

Sad and folemn Mufic.

Griff. She is afleep.

For fear we wake her.

Good wench, let's fit down quiet,
Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vifion.

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

Cath. It is not you I call for.

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

Cath. No! faw ye not e'en now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Caft thousand beams upon me, like the fun?
They promifed me eternal happiness,

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

Cath. Bid the mufic leave,

'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Pat. Do you note

[Mufic 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.
Griff. She is going, wench. Pray, pray.
Pat. Heaven comfort her!

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Enter a Messenger.

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Mef. An't like your Grace

Cath. You are a faucy fellow.
Deserve we no mere reverence?
Griff. You're to blame,

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

Mcf. [kneeling] I humbly do intreat your Highness' pardon;
My hafte made me unmannerly. There is ftaying
A gentleman fent from the King, to fee you.

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

If my fight fail not,

Enter Capucius.

You fhould 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 are now alter'd strangely

With me fince firft 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 phyfic, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I'm paft all comforts here, but

How does his Highnefs?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

prayers.

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,

1 caus'd you write, yet fent away?

Pat. No, Madam.

Cath. Sir, I moft humbly pray you to deliver This to my Lord the King.

Cap

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