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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 over her head; ut which, the other four make reverent court'sies; 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 sume garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which (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 they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The musick continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.
Kath.

It is not you I call for:

None, madam.

Saw ye none enter, since I slept?

Grif.

Kath. 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 promis'd me eternal happiness;

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,

Assuredly.

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy.

Kath.

Bid the musick leave,

[Musick ceases.

Do you note,

They are harsh and heavy to me.

Pat.

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?
Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.

Pat.

Heaven comfort her!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. An't like your grace,—

Kath.

You are a saucy fellow:

Deserve we no more reverence?
Grif.
You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this
fellow

Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger.

Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.

If my sight fail not,

You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.

Kath.

O my lord, The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me?

-Cap.

Noble lady,

First, mine own service to your grace; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you;

Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,

And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too

late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution:

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 deliverThis 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 daughtert:

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 bet 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,

* Image. + Afterwards Queen Mary.
Even if he should be.

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.-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.

[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?

Boy.

It hath struck.

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 Tho

mas!

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 baste: an if there be

No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some toucht 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 la.

bour,

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.

Methinks, I could

Cry the amen; and yet my 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,-

*A game at cards.

+ Hint.

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