:

9. The old Dutchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

10. Certain ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.

They pass over the stage in order and state, and then Exeunt, with a great flourish of trumpets.

2 Gen. A royal train, believe me; these I know; Who's that, who bears the Scepter?

1 Gen. Marquess Dorfet.

And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.

2 Gen. A bold brave gentleman.

The Duke of Suffolk.

That should be

1 Gen. 'Tis the same: High Steward.

2 Gen. And that my lord of Norfolk. I Gen. Yes.

2 Gen. Heav'n bless thee !

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

Sir, as I have a foul, 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 confcience.

1 Gen. They, that bear

The cloth of state above her, are four barons

Of the Cinque-Ports.

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

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, the Dutchess of Norfolk.

I Gen. It is, and all the rest are Countesses.

2 Gen. Their coronets say so. These are stars, indeed:

And fometimes falling ones.

1 Gen. No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, Sir. Where have you been broiling?

3 Gen. Among the crowd i'th' Abby, where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stified,
With the meer rankness of their joy.

2 Gen. You saw the ceremony?
3 Gen. I did.

4

I Gen. How was it?

3 Gen. Well worth the feeing.

2 Gen. Good Sir, speak it to us.

3 Gen. As well as I am able. The rich stream

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 sate down
To rest a while, fome half an hour, or fo,
In a rich chair of state; oppofing 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 arofe
As the fhrouds make at sea in a stiff tempeft,
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 loft. Such joy
I never faw before. Great-belly'd 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.

2 Gen. But, pray, what follow'd?

:

3 Gen. At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd'; and, faint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heav'n, and pray'd devoutly. Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people: When by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sh' had all the royal makings of a Queen; As holy oil, Edward Confeffor'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 musick of the kingdom, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the fame full state pac'd back again To York-Place, where the feast is held.

:

1 Gen. You must no more call it York-Place, that's paft. For fince the Cardinal fell, that title's loft, 'Tis now the King's, and call'd Whiteball.

:

3 Gen. I know it:

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

/

2 Gen. What two reverend bishops Were those, that went on each side of the Queen? 3 Gen. Stokefly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the King's Secretary : The other, London.

2 Gen. He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gen. All the land knows that: However, yet there's no great breach; when't comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.

2 Gen. Who may that be, I pray you?

3 Gen. 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.

2 Gen. He will deserve more.

3 Gen. Yes, without all doubt.

Come, gentlemen, you shall go my way,
Which is to th' Court, and there shall be my guests:
Something I can command; as I walk thither,

Enter Catharine Dowager, fick, led between Griffith her gentleman usher, and Patience her woman. OW does your Grace?

Grif. H

Cath. O Griffith, fick to death :
My legs, like loaded branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burthen: 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 Wolfey,

[Sitting down.

Was

:

Grif. Yes, Madam; but I think your Grace,

Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to't.

Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he dy'd.

If well, he stept before me happily,
For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, Madam.
For after the stout Earl of Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (27):
(As a man forely tainted) to his answer,
He fell fick fuddenly, and grew so ill
He could not fit his mule.

Cath. Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with easie roads he came to Leicester;
Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the rev'rend 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 fickness
Pursu'd 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 forrows,..
He gave his honours to the world again,

(27) Arrested him at York,] The Earl of Northumberland, and Sir Walter Walsh, one of the King's Privy Chamber, arrested Wolfey of Treason, at his house at Cawood in Yorkshire on Friday the 4th of November 1530. On Sunday Evening following, in order to be brought up to London, he was remov'd to Pomfret; on Monday, to Doncaster; and on Tuesday, to the Earl of Shrerusbury's Seat at Sheffield-Park. Here he was indulg'd to stay upwards of a Fortnight; and here, on Tuesday the 22d, was seiz'd with his last Illness. On Thursday the 24th he began his Journey afresh, tho not recover'd of his Flux, and was carried to another House of the Lord Shrewsbury's call'd Hardwick Hall; the next day, to Notingham; and on Saturday Evening, in a languishing Condition was brought to the Abbey at Leicester. He immediately took his Bed, and on Tuesday following, being the 29th of November, and Eve of St. Andrew, expir'd there. This short Journal, of the last Stage in Life, of so confiderable a Man, I have thought proper to trace backwards; as imagining, it might not be displeasing to certain curious Readers.

3.

:

His blessed part to heav'n, and slept in peace.

Cath. So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him! (28)

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 fuggestion
Ty'd all the kingdom; simony was fair play :
His own opinion was his law. I'th' Prefence
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 now is, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif. Noble madam,

Mens evil manners live in brass, their virtues
We write in water. May it please your Highness
To hear me speak his good now ?

Cath. Yes, good Griffith,

I were malicious else.

Grif. This Cardinal, (29)

(28) His Faults lie buried with him!] This Reading was first adopted by Mr. Rove; all the old Copies have it, as I have restor'd in the Text. The Poet seem'd to have in his Eye the customary Wish among the Latins, Sit tibi terra levis! Which Beaumont and Fletcher have express'd in their MAID's Tragedy;

Upon my buried Body lay lightly, gentle Earth! The opposite to this Expression of our Poet's here, his Faults lie gently on him!- occurs frequently in Menace to Richard 3d, from the Ghosts of those whom he had murther'd:

Let me fit heavy on thy Soul to morrow!
Let us be laid within thy Bosom, Richard,

And weigh thee down to Ruin !

Though from an humble Stock, undoubtedly

Was fashion'd to much Honour. From his Cradle

i

He was a Scholar, and a ripe, and good one ;] Thus this Passage has hitherto been most absurdly pointed. That Wolfey should be a ripe Scholar from his Cradle, is most extraordinary and incredible. My Alteration of the Pointing, I dare be positive, gives us the Poet's Meaning; and expresses that Character, which, Holingshead tells us, Edmund Campian, in his History of Ireland, had given of the Cardinal, that he was a Man undoubtedly born to Honour.

2

Though