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: 151 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 to souls departed, Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the

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

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A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. I can no more. [Exeunt leading Katherine.

SCENE I. London. A gallery in the palace.

Enter GARDINER, bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him.

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

Boy.

It hath struck.

Gard. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times.

To speak my mind of him. and, indeed, this day

Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incens'd1 the lords o' the council that he is-
For so I know he is, they know he is-
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land: with which they
mov'd

Have broken with the king;2 who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace
And princely care foreseeing those fell mis-
chiefs

Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir
Thomas,

51

As

you commanded me.

K. Hen.

Ha! Canterbury?

'Tis true: where is he, Denny?

Bring him to us.

[Exit Denny.

And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas. Lov. Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant.

[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

Enter King and SUFFOLK.

K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more tonight;

59

My mind's not on 't; you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the
news?

Lov. I could not personally deliver to her What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message; who return'd her thanks In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your highness

Most heartily to pray for her. [K. Hen.

What say'st thou, ha? To pray for her? what, is she crying out?

K. Hen.

Den. He attends your highness' pleasure. K. Hen.

4 Estate, state.

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Pray you, arise,

[Cranmer rises.

Aroid, leave.