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 rite.
CAPUTIUS
By heaven I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man.
KATHERINE
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.
(To her woman)
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 ⌈Caputius and Griffith⌉ at one door;
Patience⌉ leading Katherine ⌈at another⌉
![William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition _165.jpg](https://litlife.club/books/248589/read/images/_165.jpg)
5.1 Enter ⌈at one door⌉ Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; before him, a Page with a torch
GARDINER
It’s one o’clock, boy, is’t not?
PAGE
It hath struck.
GARDINER
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.
Enter ⌈at another door⌉ Sir Thomas Lovell, meeting them
Good hour of night, Sir Thomasl
Whither so late?
LOVELY
Came you from the King, my lord?
GARDINER
I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
LOVELL
I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I’ll take my leave.
GARDINER
Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell—what’s the matter?
It seems you are in haste. An if there be
No great offence belongs to’t, give your friend
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.
LOVELL
My lord, I love you,
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The Queen’s in labour—
They say in great extremity—and feared
She’ll with the labour end.
GARDINER
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 grubbed up now.
LOVELL
Methinks I could
Cry the amen, and yet my conscience says
She’s a good creature and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
GARDINER
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—
Till Cranmer, Cromwell—her two hands—and she,
Sleep in their graves.
LOVELL
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remarked i‘th’ kingdom. As for Cromwell,
Beside that of the Jewel House is made Master
O’th’ Rolls and the King’s secretary. Further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments
With which the time will load him. Th’Archbishop
Is the King’s hand and tongue, and who dare speak
One syllable against him?
GARDINER
Yes, yes, Sir Thomas—
There are that dare, and I myself have ventured
To speak my mind of him, and, indeed, this day,
Sir—I may tell it you, I think—I have
Incensed the lords o’th’ 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 so
Tomorrow morning to the Council board
He be convented. He’s a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long. Good night, Sir Thomas.
LOVELL