This to my Lord the King. 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, A right good husband, let him be a noble; If Heav'n had pleas'd to've giv n me longer life, '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, 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 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? Gard, Thefe fhould be hours for neceffities, 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 [ter? Affairs that walk (As they fay fpirits do) at midnight, have 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, * 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, Lov. Now, Sir, you speak of two The most remark'd i'.th' kingdom. As for Cromwell, Is the King's hand and tongue; and who dare speak 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, out. He be convented. He's a rank weed, 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. King. Charles, I will play no more to night; Nor thall not when my fancy's on my play. Re-enter Lovell. Now, I ovell, from the Queen what is the news? 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. To make your house our Tower. You a brother of us, Would come against you. Cran. I humbly thank your Highness, And am right glad to catch this good occafion 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; Gran. Moft dread Liege, The good I ftand on is my truth and honesty. Will triumph o'er my perfon; which I weigh not, |