1    How does your grace?

2    O Griffith, sick to death!
3    My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
4    Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair:
5    So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease.
6    Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
7    That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

8    Yes, madam; but I think your grace,
9    Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.

10   Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:
11   If well, he stepp'd before me, happily
12   For my example.

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

19   Alas, poor man!

20   At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
21   Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
22   With all his covent, honourably received him;
23   To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,
24   An old man, broken with the storms of state,
25   Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
26   Give him a little earth for charity!'
27   So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness
28   Pursued him still: and, three nights after this,
29   About the hour of eight, which he himself
30   Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
31   Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
32   He gave his honours to the world again,
33   His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

34   So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
35   Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
36   And yet with charity. He was a man
37   Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
38   Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion,
39   Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play;
40   His own opinion was his law: i' the presence
41   He would say untruths; and be ever double
42   Both in his words and meaning: he was never,
43   But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:
44   His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
45   But his performance, as he is now, nothing:
46   Of his own body he was ill, and gave
47   The clergy in example.

48   Noble madam,
49   Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
50   We write in water. May it please your highness
51   To hear me speak his good now?

52   Yes, good Griffith;
53   I were malicious else.

54   This cardinal,
55   Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
56   Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
57   He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
58   Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:
59   Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;
60   But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.
61   And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
62   Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
63   He was most princely: ever witness for him
64   Those twins Of learning that he raised in you,
65   Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
66   Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
67   The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
68   So excellent in art, and still so rising,
69   That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
70   His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
71   For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
72   And found the blessedness of being little:
73   And, to add greater honours to his age
74   Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

75   After my death I wish no other herald,
76   No other speaker of my living actions,
77   To keep mine honour from corruption,
78   But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
79   Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
80   With thy religious truth and modesty,
81   Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!
82   Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
83   I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
84   Cause the musicians play me that sad note
85   I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
86   On that celestial harmony I go to.

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

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

91   Madam, we are here.

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

94   None, madam.

95   No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
96   Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
97   Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
98   They promised me eternal happiness;
99   And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
100  I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly.

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

103  Bid the music leave,
104  They are harsh and heavy to me.

105  Do you note
106  How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
107  How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
108  And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes!

109  She is going, wench: pray, pray.

110  Heaven comfort her!

111  An't like your grace,--

112  You are a saucy fellow:
113  Deserve we no more reverence?

114  You are to blame,
115  Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
116  To use so rude behavior; go to, kneel.

117  I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
118  My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
119  A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.

120  Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow
121  Let me ne'er see again.
Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger
Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS
122  If my sight fail not,
123  You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
124  My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.

125  Madam, the same; your servant.

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

130  Noble lady,
131  First mine own service to your grace; the next,
132  The king's request that I would visit you;
133  Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
134  Sends you his princely commendations,
135  And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

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

141  Madam, in good health.

142  So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
143  When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
144  Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,
145  I caused you write, yet sent away?

146  No, madam.

147  Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
148  This to my lord the king.

149  Most willing, madam.

150  In which I have commended to his goodness
151  The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter;
152  The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!
153  Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding--
154  She is young, and of a noble modest nature,
155  I hope she will deserve well,--and a little
156  To love her for her mother's sake, that loved him,
157  Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
158  Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
159  Upon my wretched women, that so long
160  Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
161  Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
162  And now I should not lie, but will deserve
163  For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
164  For honesty and decent carriage,
165  A right good husband, let him be a noble
166  And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.
167  The last is, for my men; they are the poorest,
168  But poverty could never draw 'em from me;
169  That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
170  And something over to remember me by:
171  If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life
172  And able means, we had not parted thus.
173  These are the whole contents: and, good my lord,
174  By that you love the dearest in this world,
175  As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
176  Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king
177  To do me this last right.

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

180  I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
181  In all humility unto his highness:
182  Say his long trouble now is passing
183  Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,
184  For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
185  My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,
186  You must not leave me yet: I must to bed;
187  Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,
188  Let me be used with honour: strew me over
189  With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
190  I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
191  Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
192  A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
193  I can no more.