Kimbolton.
 Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick,
 led between GRIFFITH, her Gentleman-Usher, and PATIENCE her woman.

Griffith	How does your grace?

Katharine							O 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, Cardinal Wolsey,
	Was dead?

Griffith				Yes madam; but I think your grace,
	Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to't.

Katharine	Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died.
	If well, he stepped before me, happily,
	For my example.

Griffith					Well, the voice goes, madam,
	For after the stout Earl Northumberland
	Arrested him at York, and brought him forward
	As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
	He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
	He could not sit his mule.

Katharine								Alas poor man!

Griffith	At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
	Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend abbot,
	With all his covent, honourably received 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 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,
	Continual meditations, tears and sorrows,
	He gave his honours to the world again,
	His blessd part to heaven, and slept in peace.

Katharine	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 an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
	Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion
	Tied all the kingdom; simony was fair play;
	His own opinion was his law; i'th'presence
	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 is now, nothing:
	Of his own body 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?

Katharine									Yes, good Griffith,
	I were malicious else.

Griffith							This cardinal,
	Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
	Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradle
	He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
	Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading;
	Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
	But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
	And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
	Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
	He was most princely. Ever witness for him
	Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
	Ipswich and Oxford; one of which fell with him,
	Unwilling to outlive the good that did it,
	The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
	So excellent in art, and still so rising,
	That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
	His overthrow heaped happiness upon him,
	For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
	And found the blessdness of being little:
	And, to add greater honours to his age
	Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

Katharine	After my death I wish no other herald,
	No other speaker of my living actions
	To keep mine honour from corruption,
	But 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!
	Patience, be near me still; and set me lower;
	I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
	Cause the musicians play me that sad note
	I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
	On that celestial harmony I go to.
											[Sad and solemn music.

Griffith	She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,
	For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

                                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,
             at which the other four make reverend curtsies.

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 same 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, vanish, carrying the garland with them.
                           The music continues.

Katharine	Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
	And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Griffith	Madam, we are here.

Katharine						It is not you I call for:
	Saw ye none enter since I slept?

Griffith									None, madam.

Katharine	No? Saw you not even now a blessd troop
	Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
	Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
	They promised me eternal happiness,
	And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
	I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall assuredly.

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

Katharine						Bid the music leave,
	They are harsh and heavy to me.
											[Music ceases.

Patience									Do you note
	How much her grace is altered on the sudden?
	How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks,
	And of an earthy cold! Mark her eyes!

Griffith	She is going, wench. Pray, pray.

Patience									Heaven comfort her!

                            Enter a MESSENGER.

Messenger	And't like your grace-

Katharine						You are a saucy fellow.
	Deserve we no more reverence?

Griffith									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.

Katharine	Admit him entrance Griffith: but this fellow
	Let me ne'er see again.
											[Exit MESSENGER.
                           Enter LORD CAPUCIUS.

	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.

Katharine									O my lord,
	The times and titles now are altered 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
	Sends you his princely commendations,
	And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Katharine	O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
	'Tis like a pardon after execution:
	That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me,
	But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
	How does his highness?

Capucius							Madam, in good health.

Katharine	So may he ever do, and ever flourish,
	When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
	Banished the kingdom. Patience, is that letter
	I caused you write, yet sent away?

Patience									No, madam.
											[Gives letter.
Katharine	Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
	This to my lord the king.

Capucius							Most willing, madam.

Katharine	In which I have commended to his goodness
	The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter,
	- 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 loved 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 followed 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 be a noble;
	And sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
	The last is for my men - they are the poorest,
	But poverty could never draw 'em from me-
	That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
	And something over to remember me by.
	If heaven had pleased 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.

Capucius								By heaven I will,
	Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Katharine	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 blessed 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 used 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 unqueened, yet like
	A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
	I can no more.
											[Exeunt leading KATHARINE.
