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twg_000000020000 | as I live, with all the business I writ to s Holiness. Nay then, farewell! I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more. Enter to Wolsey, the Dukes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020001 | of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. NORFOLK. Hear the Kings pleasure, Cardinal, who commands you To render up the great seal presently Into our hands, and to confine yourself To Asher House, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you hear further from his Highness. WOLSEY. Stay. Wheres your commission, lords? Words cannot carry Authority so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020002 | weighty. SUFFOLK. Who dares cross em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressly? WOLSEY. Till I find more than will or words to do it I mean your maliceknow, officious lords, I dare and must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy! How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020003 | and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in everything may bring my ruin! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for em, and no doubt In time will find their fit rewards. That seal You ask with such a violence, the King, Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me; Bade me enjoy it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020004 | with the place and honours, During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters-patents. Now, wholl take it? SURREY. The King that gave it. WOLSEY. It must be himself, then. SURREY. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. WOLSEY. Proud lord, thou liest. Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue than said so. SURREY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020005 | Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robbed this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law. The heads of all thy brother cardinals, With thee and all thy best parts bound together, Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me Deputy for Ireland, Far from his succour, from the King, from all That might have mercy on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020006 | the fault thou gavst him, Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolved him with an axe. WOLSEY. This, and all else This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer is most false. The Duke by law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020007 | can witness. If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you You have as little honesty as honour, That in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the King, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies. SURREY. By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020008 | shouldst feel My sword i th lifeblood of thee else. My lords, Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, Farewell, nobility. Let his Grace go forward And dare us with his cap, like larks. WOLSEY. All goodness Is poison to thy stomach. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020009 | SURREY. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the lands wealth into one, Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets You writ to the Pope against the King. Your goodness, Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, As you respect the common good, the state | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020010 | Of our despised nobility, our issues, Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles Collected from his life. Ill startle you Worse than the sacring bell when the brown wench Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal. WOLSEY. How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020011 | in charity against it! NORFOLK. Those articles, my lord, are in the Kings hand; But thus much, they are foul ones. WOLSEY. So much fairer And spotless shall mine innocence arise When the King knows my truth. SURREY. This cannot save you. I thank my memory I yet remember Some of these articles, and out they shall. Now, if you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020012 | can blush and cry Guilty, Cardinal, Youll show a little honesty. WOLSEY. Speak on, sir; I dare your worst objections. If I blush, It is to see a nobleman want manners. SURREY. I had rather want those than my head. Have at you! First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate, by which power | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020013 | You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops. NORFOLK. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, _ego et rex meus_ Was still inscribed, in which you brought the King To be your servant. SUFFOLK. Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Council, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020014 | carry into Flanders the great seal. SURREY. Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, Without the Kings will or the states allowance, A league between his Highness and Ferrara. SUFFOLK. That out of mere ambition you have caused Your holy hat to be stamped on the Kings coin. SURREY. Then, that you have sent innumerable | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020015 | substance By what means got, I leave to your own conscience To furnish Rome and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to the mere undoing Of all the kingdom. Many more there are, Which, since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with. CHAMBERLAIN. O my lord, Press not a falling man too | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020016 | far! Tis virtue. His faults lie open to the laws; let them, Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him So little of his great self. SURREY. I forgive him. SUFFOLK. Lord Cardinal, the Kings further pleasure is, Because all those things you have done of late By your power legative within this kingdom Fall into th compass | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020017 | of a _praemunire_, That therefore such a writ be sued against you To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the Kings protection. This is my charge. NORFOLK. And so well leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer About the giving back the great seal to us, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020018 | The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal. [_Exeunt all but Wolsey._] WOLSEY. So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell? A long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020019 | bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020020 | beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020021 | princes favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. Enter Cromwell, standing amazed. Why, how now, Cromwell? CROMWELL. I have no power to speak, sir. WOLSEY. What, amazed At | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020022 | my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fallen indeed. CROMWELL. How does your Grace? WOLSEY. Why, well. Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020023 | humbly thank his Grace, and from these shoulders, These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy: too much honour. O, tis a burden, Cromwell, tis a burden Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. CROMWELL. I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it. WOLSEY. I hope I have. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020024 | am able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad? CROMWELL. The heaviest and the worst Is your displeasure with the King. WOLSEY. God bless him. CROMWELL. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. WOLSEY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020025 | Thats somewhat sudden. But hes a learned man. May he continue Long in his Highness favour, and do justice For truths sake and his conscience, that his bones, When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans tears wept on him. What more? CROMWELL. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Installed Lord Archbishop | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020026 | of Canterbury. WOLSEY. Thats news indeed. CROMWELL. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrecy long married, This day was viewed in open as his Queen, Going to chapel, and the voice is now Only about her coronation. WOLSEY. There was the weight that pulled me down. O Cromwell, The King has gone beyond me. All my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020027 | glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell. I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the King; That sun, I pray, may never set! I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020028 | 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 naturenot to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. CROMWELL. O my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020029 | forgo 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. WOLSEY. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020030 | hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Lets 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020031 | 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 missed it. Mark but my fall and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition! By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020032 | maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee. Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aimst at be thy countrys, Thy Gods, and truths. Then if thou fallst, O Cromwell, Thou fallst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020033 | a blessed martyr! Serve the King. And, prithee, lead me in. There take an inventory of all I have. To the last penny; tis the Kings. My robe And my integrity to heaven is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020034 | not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. CROMWELL. Good sir, have patience. WOLSEY. So I have. Farewell, The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. A street in Westminster. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Youre well met once again. SECOND GENTLEMAN. So are you. FIRST GENTLEMAN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020035 | You come to take your stand here and behold The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? SECOND GENTLEMAN. Tis all my business. At our last encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow, This, general joy. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Tis well. The citizens, I am sure, have shown at full | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020036 | their royal minds, As, let em have their rights, they are ever forward In celebration of this day with shows, Pageants, and sights of honour. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Never greater, Nor, Ill assure you, better taken, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN. May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, tis the list Of those | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020037 | that claim their offices this day By custom of the coronation. The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thank you, sir. Had I not known those customs, I should have been beholding to your paper. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020038 | I beseech you, whats become of Katherine, The Princess Dowager? How goes her business? FIRST GENTLEMAN. 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 was often cited by them, but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020039 | appeared not; And, to be short, for not appearance and The Kings late scruple, by the main assent Of all these learned men she was divorced, And the late marriage made of none effect; Since which she was removed to Kimbolton, Where she remains now sick. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Alas, good lady! [_Trumpets._] The trumpets sound. Stand close. The Queen is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020040 | coming. _The order of the coronation_. _1. A lively flourish of trumpets. . Then, two Judges. . Lord Chancellor, with purse and mace before him. . Choristers, singing. Music. . Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head he wore a gilt copper crown. . Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020041 | 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 earls coronet. Collars of Ss. . Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020042 | rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of Ss. . 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 her, the Bishops of London and Winchester. . The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020043 | bearing the Queens train. . Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers._ [_Exeunt, first passing over the stage in order and state, and then a great flourish of trumpets._] SECOND GENTLEMAN. A royal train, believe me. These I know. Whos that that bears the sceptre? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Marquess Dorset, And that the Earl of Surrey with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020044 | the rod. SECOND GENTLEMAN. A bold brave gentleman. That should be The Duke of Suffolk. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Tis the same: High Steward. SECOND GENTLEMAN. And that my Lord of Norfolk? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes. SECOND GENTLEMAN. [_Sees the Queen_.] Heaven bless thee! Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on. Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020045 | Our King has all the Indies in his arms, And more, and richer, when he strains that lady. I cannot blame his conscience. FIRST GENTLEMAN. They that bear The cloth of honour over her are four barons Of the Cinque Ports. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Those men are happy, and so are all are near her. I take it she that carries | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020046 | up the train Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. FIRST GENTLEMAN. It is, and all the rest are countesses. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed. FIRST GENTLEMAN. And sometimes falling ones. SECOND GENTLEMAN. No more of that. [_Exit the last of the procession._] Enter a third Gentleman. God save you, sir. Where have you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020047 | been broiling? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Among the crowds i th Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedged in more. I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy. SECOND GENTLEMAN. You saw The ceremony? THIRD GENTLEMAN. That I did. FIRST GENTLEMAN. How was it? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Well worth the seeing. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Good sir, speak it to us. THIRD | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020048 | GENTLEMAN. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen To a prepared place in the choir, fell off A distance from her, while her Grace sat down To rest a while, some half an hour or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020049 | the people. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever lay by man, which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks, Doublets, I think, flew up, and had their faces Been loose, this day | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020050 | they had been lost. Such joy I never saw before. Great-bellied women That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press And make em reel before em. No man living Could say This is my wife there, all were woven So strangely in one piece. SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020051 | followed? THIRD GENTLEMAN. At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneeled and saintlike Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly; Then rose again and bowed her to the people, When by the Archbishop of Canterbury She had all the royal makings of a queen, As holy oil, Edward Confessors crown, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020052 | The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir, With all the choicest music of the kingdom, Together sung _Te Deum_. So she parted, And with the same full state paced back again To York Place, where the feast is held. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sir, You must no more call it York | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020053 | Place, thats past; For since the Cardinal fell, that titles lost. Tis now the Kings, and called Whitehall. THIRD GENTLEMAN. I know it, But tis so lately altered that the old name Is fresh about me. SECOND GENTLEMAN. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the Queen? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Stokesley and Gardiner, the one of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020054 | Winchester, Newly preferred from the Kings secretary; The other, London. SECOND GENTLEMAN. He of Winchester Is held no great good lover of the Archbishops, The virtuous Cranmer. THIRD GENTLEMAN. All the land knows that. However, yet there is no great breach. When it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Who may that be, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020055 | I pray you? THIRD GENTLEMAN. Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteem with th King, and truly A worthy friend. The King has made him Master o th Jewel House, And one already of the Privy Council. SECOND GENTLEMAN. He will deserve more. THIRD GENTLEMAN. Yes, without all doubt. Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, Which is to th | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020056 | court, and there ye shall be my guests, Something I can command. As I walk thither, Ill tell ye more. BOTH. You may command us, sir. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Kimbolton. Enter Katherine Dowager, sick, led between Griffith, her gentleman usher, and Patience, her woman. GRIFFITH. How does your Grace? QUEEN KATHERINE. O Griffith, sick to death. My legs like loaden | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020057 | branches bow to th earth, Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair. [_She sits._] So. Now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledst me, That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead? GRIFFITH. Yes, madam, but I think your Grace, Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020058 | tot. QUEEN KATHERINE. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died. If well, he stepped before me happily For my example. GRIFFITH. Well, the voice goes, madam. For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York and brought him forward, As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, He fell sick suddenly and grew so ill He could not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020059 | sit his mule. QUEEN KATHERINE. Alas, poor man! GRIFFITH. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend abbot, With all his covent, honourably received him; To whom he gave these words: O father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020060 | Give him a little earth for charity. So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still; and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, which he himself Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020061 | peace. QUEEN KATHERINE. So may he rest. His faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity. He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes; one that by suggestion Tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair-play. His own opinion was his law. I th presence | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020062 | He would say untruths, and be ever double Both in his words and meaning. He was never, But where he meant to ruin, pitiful. His promises were, as he then was, mighty; But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example. GRIFFITH. Noble madam, Mens evil manners live | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020063 | in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your Highness To hear me speak his good now? QUEEN KATHERINE. Yes, good Griffith; I were malicious else. GRIFFITH. This Cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradle He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one, Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020064 | persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. Ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford, one of which fell with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020065 | him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heaped happiness upon him, For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little. And, to add greater honours to his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020066 | age Than man could give him, he died fearing God. QUEEN KATHERINE. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020067 | 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 named my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to. [_Sad and solemn music._] GRIFFITH. She is asleep. Good wench, lets sit down quiet, For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020068 | 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 unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020069 | over her head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies. Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020070 | 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, vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues. QUEEN KATHERINE. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone, And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? GRIFFITH. Madam, we are here. QUEEN | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020071 | KATHERINE. It is not you I call for. Saw ye none enter since I slept? GRIFFITH. None, madam. QUEEN KATHERINE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020072 | not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly. GRIFFITH. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. QUEEN KATHERINE. Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [_Music ceases._] PATIENCE. Do you note How much her Grace is altered on the sudden? How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, And of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020073 | an earthly cold? Mark her eyes. GRIFFITH. She is going, wench. Pray, pray. PATIENCE. Heaven comfort her! Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. Ant like your Grace QUEEN KATHERINE. You are a saucy fellow. Deserve we no more reverence? GRIFFITH. You are to blame, Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel. MESSENGER. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020074 | humbly do entreat your Highness pardon. My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying A gentleman sent from the King to see you. QUEEN KATHERINE. Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this fellow Let me neer see again. [_Exit Messenger._] Enter Lord Caputius. If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the Emperor, My royal nephew, and your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020075 | name Caputius. CAPUTIUS. Madam, the same. Your servant. QUEEN KATHERINE. O my lord, The times and titles now are altered strangely With me since first you knew me. But I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? CAPUTIUS. Noble lady, First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, The Kings request that I would visit you, Who grieves | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020076 | much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort. QUEEN KATHERINE. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late; Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic given in time had cured me, But now I am past all comforts here but prayers. How does his Highness? CAPUTIUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020077 | Madam, in good health. QUEEN KATHERINE. So may he ever do, and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banished the kingdom. Patience, is that letter I caused you write yet sent away? PATIENCE. No, madam. [_Giving it to Katherine._] QUEEN KATHERINE. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020078 | King. CAPUTIUS. Most willing, madam. QUEEN KATHERINE. In which I have commended to his goodness 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 welland a little To love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020079 | her for her mothers sake that loved 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 followed both my fortunes faithfully; Of which there is not one, I dare avow And now I should not liebut will deserve, For virtue and true beauty | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020080 | of the soul, 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 menthey 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020081 | If heaven had pleased 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 peoples friend, and urge the King To do me this last right. CAPUTIUS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020082 | By heaven, I will, Or let me lose the fashion of a man! QUEEN KATHERINE. 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 blessed him, For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020083 | Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used 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 unqueened, yet like A queen and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020084 | daughter to a king inter me. I can no more. [_Exeunt leading Katherine._] 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. GARDINER. Its one oclock, boy, ist not? PAGE. It hath struck. GARDINER. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020085 | times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas! Whither so late? LOVELL. Came you from the King, my lord? GARDINER. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero With the Duke of Suffolk. LOVELL. I must to him too, Before he go to bed. Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020086 | take my leave. GARDINER. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. Whats the matter? It seems you are in haste. An if there be No great offence belongs tot, give your friend Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk, As they say spirits do, at midnight have In them a wilder nature than the business That seeks despatch by day. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020087 | LOVELL. My lord, I love you, And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The Queens in labour They say in great extremity, and feared Shell with the labour end. GARDINER. The fruit she goes with I pray for heartily, that it may find Good time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020088 | wish it grubbed up now. LOVELL. Methinks I could Cry the amen, and yet my conscience says Shes a good creature and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes. GARDINER. But, sir, sir, Hear me, Sir Thomas. Youre a gentleman Of mine own way. I know you wise, religious; And let me tell you, it will neer be well, Twill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020089 | not, Sir Thomas Lovell, taket of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she Sleep in their graves. LOVELL. Now, sir, you speak of two The most remarked i th kingdom. As for Cromwell, Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master O th Rolls, and the Kings secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020090 | more preferments, With which the time will load him. Th Archbishop Is the Kings hand and tongue, and who dare speak One syllable against him? GARDINER. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare, and I myself have ventured To speak my mind of him. And indeed this day, SirI may tell it you, I thinkI have Incensed the lords | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020091 | o th 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, moved, Have broken with the King, who hath so far Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs Our reasons laid before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020092 | him, hath commanded Tomorrow morning to the Council board He be convented. Hes a rank weed, Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long. Good night, Sir Thomas. LOVELL. Many good nights, my lord. I rest your servant. [_Exeunt Gardiner and Page._] Enter King and Suffolk. KING. Charles, I will play no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020093 | more tonight. My minds not ont; you are too hard for me. SUFFOLK. Sir, I did never win of you before. KING. But little, Charles, Nor shall not, when my fancys on my play. Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news? LOVELL. I could not personally deliver to her What you commanded me, but by her woman I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020094 | sent your message, who returned her thanks In the greatst humbleness, and desired your Highness Most heartily to pray for her. KING. What sayst thou, ha? To pray for her? What, is she crying out? LOVELL. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made Almost each pang a death. KING. Alas, good lady! SUFFOLK. God safely quit her of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020095 | her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your Highness with an heir! KING. Tis midnight, Charles. Prithee, to bed, and in thy prayers remember Th estate of my poor Queen. Leave me alone, For I must think of that which company Will not be friendly to. SUFFOLK. I wish your Highness A quiet night, and my good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020096 | mistress will Remember in my prayers. KING. Charles, good night. [_Exit Suffolk._] Enter Sir Anthony Denny. Well, sir, what follows? DENNY. Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop, As you commanded me. KING. Ha! Canterbury? DENNY. Ay, my good lord. KING. Tis true. Where is he, Denny? DENNY. He attends your Highness pleasure. KING. Bring him to us. [_Exit | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020097 | Denny._] LOVELL. [_Aside_.] This is about that which the Bishop spake. I am happily come hither. Enter Cranmer and Denny. KING. Avoid the gallery. [_Lovell seems to stay_.] Ha! I have said. Be gone. What! [_Exeunt Lovell and Denny._] CRANMER. [_Aside_.] I am fearful. Wherefore frowns he thus? Tis his aspect of terror. Alls not well. KING. How now, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020098 | lord? You do desire to know Wherefore I sent for you. CRANMER. [_Kneeling_.] It is my duty T attend your Highness pleasure. KING. Pray you, arise, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together. I have news to tell you. Come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good lord, I grieve | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020099 | at what I speak, And am right sorry to repeat what follows. I have, and most unwillingly, of late Heard many grievousI do say, my lord, Grievouscomplaints of you, which, being considered, Have moved us and our Council that you shall This morning come before us, where I know, You cannot with such freedom purge yourself But that, till further | 60 | gutenberg |
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