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 160 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. Fare-
well,

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 used with honor: strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may
know

I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me, 170
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 FIFTH

SCENE I

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?

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.

Thomas!

Good hour of night, Sir

Came you from the king, my lord?

Whither so late?

Lov.

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: an if there be

10

No great offense belongs to 't, give your friend

3. "not for delights"; Gardiner himself is not much delighted. The delights at which he hints seem to be the king's diversions, which keep him in attendance.-H. N. H.

Some touch 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 dispatch by day.

Lov.

My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen

in labor,

queen's

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd
She 'll with the labor end.

Gar.

with 20

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 're 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, 30
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov.

Now, sir, you speak of two The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,

Beside that of the jewel house, is made master

34. "is"; Theobald, "he's."-I. G.

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. The archbishop

Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak

Gar.

One syllable against him?

Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare; and I myself have ventured

40

To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have

Incensed 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
moved

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
He be convented.

Thomas,

51

He's a rank weed, Sir

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. 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 desired your
highness

Most heartily to pray for her.

King.

What say'st 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!

King.

Suf.

70

"Tis midnight, Charles;
Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to.

I wish your highness
A quiet night, and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

King.

Charles, good night. [Exit Suffolk.

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Well, sir, what follows?