Chapter: Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe

2 So are you

1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold
The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation

2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter,
  The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall

  1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow,
  This generall ioy

  2 'Tis well: The Citizens
  I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds,
  As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward
  In Celebration of this day with Shewes,
  Pageants, and Sights of Honor

  1 Neuer greater,
  Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir

  2 May I be bold to aske what that containes,
  That Paper in your hand

  1 Yes, 'tis the List
  Of those that claime their Offices this day,
  By custome of the Coronation.
  The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes
  To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke,
  He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest

  1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs,
  I should haue beene beholding to your Paper:
  But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine
  The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?
  1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
  Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
  Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order,
  Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off
  From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which
  She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:
  And to be short, for not Appearance, and
  The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent
  Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd,
  And the late Marriage made of none effect:
  Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton,
  Where she remaines now sicke

  2 Alas good Lady.
  The Trumpets sound: Stand close,
  The Queene is comming.

  Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of
  Trumpets. 2
  Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before
  him. 4
  Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the
  Mace. Then
  Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt
  Copper
  Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his
  head, a
  Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the
  Rod of
  Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of
  Esses. 7
  Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head,
  bearing
  a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of
  Norfolke, with
  the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8
  A
  Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in
  her
  Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each
  side her,
  the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of
  Norfolke,
  in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes
  Traine. 10
  Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold,
  without
  Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State,
  and
  then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

  2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know:
  Who's that that beares the Scepter?
  1 Marquesse Dorset,
  And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod

  2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee
  The Duke of Suffolke

  1 'Tis the same: high Steward

  2 And that my Lord of Norfolke?
  1 Yes

  2 Heauen blesse thee,
  Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on.
  Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell;
  Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes,
  And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady,
  I cannot blame his Conscience

  1 They that beare
  The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons
  Of the Cinque-Ports

  2 Those men are happy,
  And so are all, are neere her.
  I take it, she that carries vp the Traine,
  Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke

  1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses

  2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed,
  And sometimes falling ones

  2 No more of that.
  Enter a third Gentleman.

  1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?
  3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger
  Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
  With the meere ranknesse of their ioy

  2 You saw the Ceremony?
  3 That I did

  1 How was it?
  3 Well worth the seeing

  2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?
  3 As well as I am able. The rich streame
  Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene
  To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off
  A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe
  To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so,
  In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely
  The Beauty of her Person to the People.
  Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman
  That euer lay by man: which when the people
  Had the full view of, such a noyse arose,
  As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest,
  As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,
  (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces
  Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy
  I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women,
  That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes
  In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease
  And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing
  Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen
  So strangely in one peece

  2 But what follow'd?
  3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces
  Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like
  Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly.
  Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people:
  When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury,
  She had all the Royall makings of a Queene;
As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne,
   The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes
   Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire
   With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome,
   Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
   And with the same full State pac'd backe againe
   To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held

   1 Sir,
   You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past:
   For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost,
   'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall

   3 I know it:
   But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
   Is fresh about me

   2 What two Reuerend Byshops
   Were those that went on each side of the Queene?
   3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester,
   Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary:
   The other London

   2 He of Winchester
   Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops,
   The vertuous Cranmer

   3 All the Land knowes that:
   How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes
   Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him

   2 Who may that be, I pray you

   3 Thomas Cromwell,
   A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly
   A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him
   Master o'th' Iewell House,
   And one already of the Priuy Councell

   2 He will deserue more

   3 Yes without all doubt.
   Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way,
   Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests:
   Something I can command. As I walke thither,
   Ile tell ye more

   Both. You may command vs Sir.

   Exeunt.


Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her
Gentleman
Vsher, and Patience her Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace?
Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death:
My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth,
   Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire,
   So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease.
   Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee,
   That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey
   Was dead?
   Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace
   Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't

   Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de.
   If well, he stept before me happily
   For my example

   Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,
   For after the stout Earle Northumberland
   Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward
   As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer,
   He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill
   He could not sit his Mule

   Kath. Alas poore man

   Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester,
   Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot
   With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him;
   To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot,
   An old man, broken with the stormes of State,
   Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
   Giue him a little earth for Charity.
   So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse
   Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this,
   About the houre of eight, which he himselfe
   Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance,
   Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes,
   He gaue his Honors to the world agen,
   His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace

   Kath. So may he rest,
   His Faults lye gently on him:
   Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him,
   And yet with Charity. He was a man
   Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking
   Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion
   Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play,
   His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence
   He would say vntruths, and be euer double
   Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer
   (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.
   His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty:
   But his performance, as he is now, Nothing:
   Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue
   The Clergy ill example

   Grif. Noble Madam:
   Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues
   We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse
   To heare me speake his good now?
   Kath. Yes good Griffith,
   I were malicious else

   Grif. This Cardinall,
   Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly
   Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle
   He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one:
   Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading:
   Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not:
   But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer.
   And though he were vnsatisfied in getting,
   (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam,
   He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him
   Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you,
   Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him,
   Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it.
   The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous,
   So excellent in Art, and still so rising,
   That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue.
   His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him:
   For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe,
   And found the Blessednesse of being little.
   And to adde greater Honors to his Age
   Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God

   Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald,
   No other speaker of my liuing Actions,
   To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,
   But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith.
   Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee
   With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie,
   (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him.
   Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower,
   I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
   Cause the Musitians play me that sad note
   I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating
   On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too.

   Sad and solemne Musicke.

   Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
   For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

   The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe
   Personages,
   clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes,
   and golden
   Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands.
   They
   first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first
   two
   hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make
   reuerend
   Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to
   the other
   next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and
   holding the
   Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland
   to the
   last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it
           were by
           inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and
   holdeth vp
   her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the
   Garland
   with them. The Musicke continues.

   Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
   And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye?
   Grif. Madam, we are heere

   Kath. It is not you I call for,
   Saw ye none enter since I slept?
   Grif. None Madam

   Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope
   Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces
   Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?
   They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,
   And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele
   I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly

   Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames
   Possesse your Fancy

   Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue,
   They are harsh and heauy to me.

   Musicke ceases.

   Pati. Do you note
   How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine?
   How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes,
   And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?
   Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray

   Pati. Heauen comfort her.
   Enter a Messenger.

   Mes. And't like your Grace -
   Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow,
   Deserue we no more Reuerence?
   Grif. You are too blame,
   Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse
   To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele

   Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon,
   My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying
   A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you

   Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow
   Let me ne're see againe.

   Exit Messeng.

   Enter Lord Capuchius.

   If my sight faile not,
   You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
   My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius

   Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant

   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 owne seruice to your Grace, the next
   The Kings request, that I would visit you,
   Who greeues much for your weaknesse, 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 Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me:
But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers.
How does his Highnesse?
Cap. Madam, in good health

Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish,
    When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name
    Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter
    I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
    Pat. No Madam

    Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer
    This to my Lord the King

    Cap. Most willing Madam

    Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse
    The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter,
    The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her,
    Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding.
    She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature,
    I hope she will deserue well; and a little
    To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him,
    Heauen knowes how deerely.
    My next poore Petition,
    Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie
    Vpon my wretched women, that so long
    Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
    Of which there is not one, I dare auow
    (And now I should not lye) but will deserue
    For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule,
    For honestie, and decent Carriage
A right good Husband (let him be a Noble)
    And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em.
    The last is for my men, they are the poorest,
    (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me)
    That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em,
    And something ouer to remember me by.
    If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life
    And able meanes, we had not parted thus.
    These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord,
    By that you loue the deerest in this world,
    As you wish Christian peace to soules departed,
    Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King
    To do me this last right

    Cap. By Heauen I will,
    Or let me loose the fashion of a man

    Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me
    In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse:
    Say his long trouble now is passing
    Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him
    (For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell
    My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience,
    You must not leaue me yet. I must to bed,
    Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench,
    Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer
    With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know
    I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me,
    Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like
    A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me.
    I can no more.

    Exeunt. leading Katherine.

 One gentleman meets another in the city street, where they wait to see Anne, now queen, pass on the way to her coronation. The last time they met in the street was for the sad event of Buckingham's trial, so they are glad for a return to the more usual pomp of the royalty. They discuss a list of those who are to be promoted today, including Suffolk and Norfolk, and they note that Katharine has been renamed "Princess Dowager" after the divorce. The coronation passes with Suffolk, Norfolk, Anne, Surrey, and other important state officials. The gentlemen comment on who holds which decoration of state and how impressed they are with Anne. A third gentleman arrives, having just seen the coronation ceremony. He relates it to the other two. He tells how everyone filed into the Abbey and that the people were so impressed with the beauty of Anne. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Cranmer, performed the ceremony making her queen, the choir performed, and the procession passed out of the church to the court for celebrations. The third gentlemen notes that Gardiner was there and is not fond of Cranmer. But the gentlemen agree that nothing can come of this rivalry, as Cranmer has one friend who will not abandon him--namely Cromwell, who is in favor with the king and just got a promotion. The gentlemen depart. In Katharine's apartments, she asks her attendants to tell her about the death of Cardinal Wolsey. Apparently, after his arrest Wolsey grew ill and died a broken man. Katharine says she will speak of him with charity but goes on to mention how his enormous ambition shackled the kingdom; he used bribes for ecclesiastical favors, he said lies and was duplicitous in words and actions, and he was generally a bad example for the clergy. But her attendant Griffith speaks well of Wolsey, noting that he was a good scholar, kind and generous to his friends, and a patron of education. Upon his demise he discovered humility and found himself and died fearing God. Katharine listens to Griffith's speech and says she hopes Griffith will eulogize her when she dies, since he speaks so well. Griffith's words have made her want to honor the man who she hated most. She wishes Wolsey peace in death. Katharine goes to sleep with her attendants by her. She sees a vision of six people in white robes with garlands around their heads. They dance around Katharine, offering her a garland, and then dance away. Katharine wakes and calls to her attendants, asking if they have seen anything. She tells about the vision, saying it promised her eternal happiness. The attendants note to each other that they think she has not yet long to live if she is seeing such visions. A messenger enters, announcing the arrival of Capucius, an ambassador from Katharine's father, Charles V of Spain. Capucius says he has been sent by Henry to ask after her health, but Katharine says he is too late, since she is already dying. She gives Capucius a letter for the king, in which she asks Henry to care for their daughter and to provide for her servants, who have all been faithful during Katharine's life. Katharine asks Capucius to tell the king of her in all humility, saying that she will soon die and not be a trouble to him. Calling to her servants, she prepares for bed.

