it, the Queen in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the Bishops of London and Winchester. 8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train. 9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I know ;Who 's that that bears the sceptre?

1 Gent.

Marquis Dorset : And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman: and that should be The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent.

'Tis the same; high-steward.

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk?

1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.

Heaven bless thee! Looking on the QUEEN.

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.

Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;

Our king has all the Indies in his arms,

And more, and richer, when he strains that lady;
I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent.

They that bear

The cloth of honour over her, are four barons

Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all, are near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.

2 Gent. Their coronets say so.

deed;

And, sometimes, falling ones.

1 Gent.

These are stars, in

No more of that.

[Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.

Enter a Third Gentleman.

God save you, sir! where have you been broiling? 3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled

With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gent. You saw the ceremony

3 Gent. That I did.

1 Gent. How was it?

The rich stream

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able.
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd 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 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 they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before.
Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to

go,

like rams

a

In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, "This is my wife," there;
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent.

all were woven

But, what follow'd?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest

paces

Came to the altar: where she kneel'd, and, saint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.

a Rams-battering-rams.

Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
Laid nobly on her; which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music cf the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.

1 Gent.
Sir,
You must no more call it York-place, that is past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title 's lost;
"T is now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.
3 Gent.

I know it; But 't is so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me.

2 Gent.

What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen?

3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,)

The other, London.

Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent.

All the land knows that: However, yet there 's no great breach; when it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from hini. 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you?

3 Gent.

Thomas Cromwell; A man in much esteem with the king, and truly A worthy friend. The king

Has made him master o' the jewel-house,

And one, already, of the privy-council.

2 Gent. He will deserve more.

3 Gent.

Yes, without all doubt.

Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests;
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.

Both.

You may command us, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Kimbolton,

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath.
O, Griffith, sick to death:
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair;—
So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease.

Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?

Grif.

Yes, madam; but I think your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,

For my example.

Grif.

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 sit his mule.

Kath.

Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, honourably receiv'd 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; 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 peace.
Kath. 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 kingdoms: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law: I' the presence
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.

Grif.

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.

I were malicious else.

Yes, good Griffith;

This cardinal,

Grif. Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd 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