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Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord !
The king shall have my service, but my prayers
For ever and for ever shall be

[Wolsey.] Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear

In all my miseries : but thou hast forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell ;
And,—when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention
Of me must more be heard,-say then I taught thee,
Say,—Wolsey that once rode the waves of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in-
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it :-
Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd mem
Cromwell, I charge thee-fling away ambition ;
By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace
To silence envious tongues : be just and fear not ;
Let all the ends thou aim’st at, be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall’st, O Crom-
Thou fall’st a blessed martyr. Lead me in,- [well,
There take an inventory of all I have
To the last penny ;-'tis the king's :—my robe
And my integrity to heaven, are all
I dare now call my own :-0 Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God, with half the zeal
I've sery'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Still do I trust with patience; but, farewell
The hopes of court: my hopes in heaven do dwell.




Queen Catherine died of a lingering illness at Kimbolton, Jan, 6, 1536, in the fiftieth year of her age. She sent a very touching letter to the king a little before she expired, in which she called him her most dear lord, king, and husband; recommended her daughter Mary to his parental affections, and craved his protection for her maids and servants.


The scene is a chamber in the queen's residence at Kimbolton : she is in the act of being led, perhaps from a walk in the gallery, by her gentleman-usher and one of her female attendants: the former speaks : [Griffith.] How does your grace ? [Catherine.] Oh, Griffith, sick to death!

My legs, like loaden 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, cardi'nal Wolsey,
Was dead?

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(Griffith.] Yes, madam; but I think your grace,

Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. [Catherine.] Pr’ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died :

If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,

For my examples
[Griffith.) Well, the voice goes, madam:

For after the stout earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him onward,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill

He could not sit his mule. [Catherine.] Alas, poor man!


[Griffith.] At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester;

Lodg’d in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honou'rably 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 you :
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,
Continu'al meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. [Catherine.) 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 haughtiness unbounded, ever ranking
Himself with princes : hi's own opinion was
His law : i' the presence, he would say untruths,
And be ever double in his words and meaning:
His promises were, as he then was, mighty,
But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
In perso'nal conduct he was ill, and gave

The clergy ill example. [Griffith.] 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 ? [Catherine.] Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious else. [Griffith.] This cardinal,

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;
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ;
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.

And though he was unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely: ever witness for him
Those twins of learning which he rais'd in England,
Ipswich and Oxford: one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it :
The other, though unfinish’d, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died fearing God. [Catherine.] After my death, I wish no other herald,

No other speaker of my living actions,
Than such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!
Come nearer to me, Patience,-set me lower;
I have not long to trouble thee.-Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, while I sit meditating

On that celestial harmony I go to.

poet tells us that sad and solemn music is play d: Catherine falls asleep, and remains sleeping for some time, the music continuing: at length she wakes:

Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye gone,

And leave me here in wretchedness behind you ? [Griffith.] Madam, we are here. [Catherine.] It is not you I call for :

Saw ye none enter since I slept ? [Griffith.] None, madam. [Catherine.] No? saw ye 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. Now bid the music cease ;
'Tis harsh and heavy to me.

Griffith speaks aside to Patience : [Griffith.] Do you note

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 ? She's going, wench. A messenger suddenly enters, and addresses Catherine without the customary ceremony to her rank she manifests yreat indignation : Griffith speaks to him:

You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,

To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. [Messenger.] I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;

My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying

A gentleman sent from the king, to see you. [Catherine.] Admit him entrance, Griffith; but this fellow,

Let me ne'er see again. [a pause.]
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor

My royal nephew, and your name Capucius,
[Capucius.] Madam, the same ; your servant.
[Catherine.] 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? [Capucius.] 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,

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