This to my Lord the King.
Cab Moft willing, Madam.

Cath. In which I have commended to his goodness 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 deterve 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 wonen, that fo 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 deferves,
For virtue and true beauty of the foul,
For honesty and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be a noble;
And fure thofe men are happy that thall have 'em,
The laft 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 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 with Chriftian peace to fouls departed,
Stand thefe poor people's friend, and urge the King
To do me this laft right.

Cap By Heav'n I will,

Or let me lofe the fashion of a man!

Gath. 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 blefs'd him;

For fo I will

My Lord

-Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, Griffith, farewell,- Nay, Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bedCall 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 chatte wife to my grave: inbalm me, Ff

VOL, V.

Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like
A Queen, and daughter to a King, inter me.

I can no more

AC T V.

[Exeunt, leading Catharine.

SCENE I.

Before the Palace.

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

Gard.

'T'

IS one o'clock, Boy, is't not?
Boy. It hath ftruck.

Gard, Thefe fhould be hours for neceffities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature

With comforting repofe, and not for us

To wafte these times. Good hour of night, Sir' ThoWhither fo late?

Lov. Came you from the King, my Lord?

[mas!

Gard. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero

With the Duke of Suffolk,

Lov. I must to him too,

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

Gard. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell: what's the mat

It seems you are in hafte: and if there be

No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business.

[ter?

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 la

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

[bour,

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

I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks I could

Cry the Amen; and yet my conscience says,
She's a good creature, and (fweet Lady) does

* wild for uncommon.

Deferve our better wishes.

Gard. But, Sir, Sir

Hear me, Sir Thomas

Of mine own way;

-You're a Gentleman

know you wife, religious:

And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,

'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take t of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two

The most remark'd i'.th' kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Befide that of the jewel-houte, he's made Master
O' th' Rolls, and the King's Secretary; further,
Stands in the gap and tread for more preferments,
With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop

Is the King's hand and tongue; and who dare speak
One fyllable against him?

Gard. Yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd To speak my mind of him. Indeed, this very day, (Sir, I may tell it you), I think I have.

Incens'd the Lords o' th' council, that he is (For fo I know he is, they know he is)

A molt arch heretic, a peftilence

That does infect the land; with which they mov'd,
Have broken with the King; who hath fo far
Giv'n ear to our complaint, of his great grace
And princely care, forefeeing thofe fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him, he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board

out.

He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him From your affairs
I hinder you too long. Good night, Sir Thomas.

[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

Lov. Many good nights, my Lord! I reft your fer

vant.

[Exit Lovell

SCENE II. Changes to an apartment in the palace.
Enter King and Suffolk.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night;
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
King. But little, Charles;

Nor thall not when my fancy's on my play.

Re-enter Lovell.

Now, I ovell, from the Queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not perfonally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I fent your meffage; who return'd her thanks
In greatest humblenefs, and begg'd your Highness
Moft heartily to pray for her.

King. What fay'ft thou! ha!

To pray for her! what is fhe crying out!

Lov. So faid her woman, and that her fuff 'rance made

Almoft each pang a death.

King. Alas, good Lady!

Suf. God fately quit her of her burthen, and With gentle travel, to the gladding of

Your Highness with an heir!

King. 'Tis midnight, Charles;

Pr'ythee to bed; and in thy prayers remember

Th'eftate of my poor Queen.

Leave me alone;

For I must think of that which company

Would not be friendly to.

Suf 1 with your Highness

A quiet night, and my good miftrefs will:

Remember in my prayers.

King. Charles a good night.

Well, Sir, what follows?

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.'

[Exit Suffolk.

Denny. Sir, I have brought my Lord the Archbishop,

As you commanded me.

King. Ha! Canterbury!

Denny. Yea, my good Lord.

Denny He attends your Highnefs' pleasure.

Lov. This is about that which the Bishop ipake.

King. 'Tis true————

where is he, Denny?

King. Bring him to us.

[Exit Denny.

Cran. I am much tearful: whereicre frowns he thus?

'Tis his aspect of terror.

All's not well.

King. How now, my Lord? you do defire to know Wherefore i fent for you.

Gran. It is my duty

T'attend your Highness' pleasure.

King. Pray you rife,

My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together:
I've news to tell you. Come, give me your hand.
Ah, my good Lord, I grieve at what I fpeak;
And am right forry to repeat what follows.
I have, and moft unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do fay, my Lord,
Grievous complaints of you; which being confider'd,
Have mov'd us and our council, that you fhall
This morning come before us; where I know
You cannot with fuch freedom purge yourself;
But that, till further trial, in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented

To make your house our Tower. You a brother of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness

Would come against you.

Cran. I humbly thank your Highness,

And am right glad to catch this good occafion
Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff

And corn fhall fly asunder.

For I know

There's none stands under more calumnious tongues Than I myself, poor man.

King. Stand up, good Canterbury.

Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted

In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, ftand up;
Pr'ythee let's walk. Now, by my holy Dame,
What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en fome pains to bring together
Yourself and your accufers, and have heard you
Without indurance further.

Gran. Moft dread Liege,

The good I ftand on is my truth and honesty.
If they fhall fall, I with mine enemies

Will triumph o'er my perfon; which I weigh not,
Being of thofe virtues vacant. I fear nothing