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

Cap.

Most willing, madam.

131

136

Kath. 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 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;

140

144

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em. 148
The last 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 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,

133 model: memorial his young daughter: Mary Tudor 142 both my fortunes: prosperity and adversity

152

156

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

160

163

167

Out of this world. Tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
My lord. Griffith, farewell. 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.

172

Exeunt, leading Katharine.

ACT FIFTH

Scene One

[London. 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?

160 fashion: shape

Act Fifth; cf. n.

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: and if there be

No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend Some touch of your late business. Affairs, that walkAs they say spirits do—at midnight, have

In them a wilder nature than the business

That seeks dispatch by day.

Lov.

12

My lord, I love you, 16

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 20

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.

Methinks I could

24

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

But, sir, sir,

Gar.
Hear me, Sir Thomas: y' 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,

7 primero: a game of cards 19 fear'd: it is feared

28

13 uch: hint late: i.e. nocturnal 28 vay: way of thinking

Sleep in their graves.

Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two 32
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the jewel-house, is made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,
With which the time will load him. Th' archbishop
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 heretic, a pestilence

That does infect the land: with which they mov'd
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,—hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board

36

40

44

48

He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas, 52
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 serv-
Exeunt Gardiner and Page.

ant.

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.

34 that: the mastership; cf. IV. i. III

is: he is

36 gap and trade: the opening and track by which preferments come 43 Incens'd: impressed upon

46 with which they mov'd: moved by which they

47 broken with: communicated with

56

52 convented: summoned

Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
King. But little, Charles;

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

60

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 great'st humbleness, and desir'd your highness
Most heartily to pray for her.

King.

64

What sayst thou? Ha?

To pray for her? what, is she crying out?

Lov. So said her woman; and that her sufferance

made

Almost each pang a death.

King.

Alas! good lady.

Suf. God safely quit her of her burthen, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of

Your highness with an heir!

68

'Tis midnight, Charles; 72

King.
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

Would not be friendly to.

Suf.

A quiet night, and my good mistress will

Remember in my prayers.

King.

I wish your highness 76

Charles, good-night.

Exit Suffolk.

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Well, sir, what follows?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, 80

As you commanded me.

74 estate: condition