That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me; But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. How does his highness?

Cap.

Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter, I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat.

No, madam.

[Giving it to Katharine.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king.

Cap.

Most willing, madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his good

ness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh

ter:

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 well;) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd 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 follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty 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 them.

The last is, for my men; they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me;—
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;
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 king
To do me this last right.

Cap.

By heaven, I will; Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. 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 bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewel,
My lord.-Griffith, farewel.-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
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Katharine.

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

It hath struck.

Boy.
Gar. 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.-Good hour of night, sir
Thomas!

Whither so late?

Lov.

Came you from the king, my lord?

Gar. 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.

Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?

It seems, you are in haste: an if there be

No great offence belongs to't, 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.

Lov.

My lord, I love you;

And durst commend a secret to your ear

Much weightier than this work. The queen's in

labour,

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd,

She'll with the labour end.

Gar.

The fruit she goes with,

I

pray

for heartily; that it may find

Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas,

I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov.

Cry the amen; and yet my

Methinks, I could

conscience says

She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does

Deserve our better wishes.

Gar.

But, sir, sir,

Hear me, sir Thomas: You are a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, 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'the kingdom. As for Crom

well,

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master O'the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, With which the time will load him: The arch

bishop

Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare

speak

One syllable against him?

Gar.

Yes, yes, sir Thomas,

There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd.

To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have
Incens'd the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is,)
A most arch heretick, 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 him,) he hath commanded,
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, sir Thomas,
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
[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

servant.

As Lovell is going out, enter the King, and the
Duke of Suffolk.

K. Hen. 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

K. Hen. But little, Charles;

you before.

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 greatest 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?