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King Henry the Eighth

Год написания книги
2017
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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 nam'd 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 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

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 blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promis'd 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 alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks,
And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes.
GRIFFITH. She is going, wench. Pray, pray.
PATIENCE. Heaven comfort her!

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. An'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 alter'd 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 cur'd 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
Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter
I caus'd you write yet sent away?
PATIENCE. No, madam. [Giving it to
KATHARINE]
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 lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is that his noble Grace would have some pity
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