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 blessedness of being little.

And to add greater honours to his age

Than man could give him, he died fearing God.

KATHERINE

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.

(To her woman) 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. Katherine sleeps

GRIFFITH (to the woman)

She is asleep. Good wench, let’s sit down quiet

For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

They sit

THE VISION

Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden visors on their faces. They carry branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first conge unto Katherine, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head at which the other four make reverent 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

KATHERINE (waking)

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

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

Griffith and Patience rise and come forward

GRIFFITH

Madam, we are here.

KATHERINE It is not you I call for.

Saw ye none enter since I slept?

GRIFFITH

None, madam.

KATHERINE

No? Saw you not even now a blessèd 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.

KATHERINE

Bid the music leave.

They are harsh and heavy to me.

Music ceases

PATIENCE (to Griffith)

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 colour? Mark her eyes?

GRIFFITH

She is going, wench. Pray, pray.

PATIENCE

Heaven comfort her.

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER (to Katherine)

An’t like your grace—

KATHERINE

You are a saucy fellow—

Deserve we no more reverence?

GRIFFITH (to the Messenger)

You are to blame,

Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,

To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.

MESSENGER (kneeling before Katherine)

I humbly do entreat your highness’ pardon.

My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying

A gentleman sent from the King to see you.

KATHERINE

Admit him entrance, Griffith. But this fellow

Let me ne’er see again.

Exit Messenger

Enter Lord Caputius ⌈ushered by Griffith⌉

If my sight fail not,

You should be lord ambassador from the Emperor,

My royal nephew, and your name Caputius.

CAPUTIUS

Madam, the same, ⌈bowing⌉ your servant.

KATHERINE

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?

CAPUTIUS

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.

KATHERINE

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?

CAPUTIUS

Madam, in good health.

KATHERINE

So may he ever do, and ever flourish

When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name

Banished the kingdom. (To her woman) Patience, is

that letter

I caused you write yet sent away?

PATIENCE

No, madam.

KATHERINE (to Caputius)

Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver

This to my lord the King.

The letter is given to Caputius

CAPUTIUS

Most willing, madam.

KATHERINE

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,