Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser

vants.

Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you;

Beware you lose it not: For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.

Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, pray, forgive me,

If I have used myself unmannerly;
You know, I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray, do my service to his majesty:

He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers,
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers,
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear.

[Exeunt. SCENE II.-Ante-chamber to the KING'S Apartment.

Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF SUFFOLK,
the EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain."
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints,
And forces them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.

Sur.

I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be revenged on him.

Suf.
Which of the peers
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures: What he deserves of you and me, I know;

What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in his tongue.

Nor.
O, fear him not;
His spell in that is out: the king hath found
Matter against him, that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Sur.

Sir,

Crom. I think, by this he is. Wol. Leave me a while.- [Exit CROMWELL. It shall be to the duchess of Alençon, The French king's sister: he shall marry her.Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him: There is more in it than fair visage.-Bullen! No, we'll no Bullens.-Speedily I wish

To hear from Rome.-The marchioness of Pem

broke!

Nor. He's discontented. Suf.

May be, he hears the king Does whet his anger to him. Sur.

Lord, for thy justice?

Sharp enough,

Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's

daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it; Then, out it goes.-What though I know her vir

tuous,

And well-deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king.-Again, there is sprung up
A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one
Hath crawl'd into the favor of the king,
And is his oracle.

Nor.

He is vex'd at something. Suf I would, 'twere something that would fret the string,

The master-cord of his heart!

Enter the KING, reading a Schedule; and LovELL. The king, the king.

Suf. K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated

To his own portion! and what expense by the hour

Made memorable.

Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then, lays, his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait;s then, stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen.
It may well be;
There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; and wot you, what I found
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,-
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of household; which
I find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks
Possession of a subject.

Nor.
It's heaven's will;
Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.

K. Hen.
If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid,
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.

[He takes his Seat, and whispers LOVELL, who goes to WOLSEY. Wol. Heaven forgive me! Ever God bless your highness! K. Hen. Good, my lord, You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory

Of your best graces in your mind; the which
You are now running o'er; you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
Wol.

Sir,

For holy offices I have a time; a time
To think upon the part of business, which
bear i' the state; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal
Must give my tendance to.

K. Hen.
You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying!

K. Hen. 'Tis well said again: And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well: And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you: He said, he did; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office, I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Employ'd you where high profits might come home, But par'd my present havings, to bestow My bounties upon you. Wol. What should this mean? Sur. The Lord increase this business! [Aside. K. Hen. Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us, or no. What say you? Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more, than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all man's endeavors:-my endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fill'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it.

K. Hen.

Fairly answer'd; A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated: The honor of it

I do profess, That for your highness' good I ever labor'd More than mine own; that am, have, and will be, Though all the world should crack their duty to you And throw it from their soul: though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.

Wol.

K. Hen. 'Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open't.-Read o'er this; [Giving him Papers And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have. [Exit KING, frowning upon CARDINAL WOL SEY: the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering. What should this mean? What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; Then makes him nothing. I must read this pa per: I fear, the story of his anger.-'Tis so; This paper has undone me :-'Tis the account Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedo m, And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil Made me put this main secret in the packet I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his brains? I know, 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune Will bring me off again. What's this-To the Pope? The letter, as I live, with all the business

I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my great

ness;

And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Re-enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the
EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who
commands you

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands; and to confine yourself
To Asher-House, my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
Wol.

carry

Stay,

Where's your commission, lords? words cannot
Authority so weighty.
Suf.
Who dare cross them?
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly?
Wol. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it
(I mean your malice,) know, officious lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded-envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin -
Follow your envious courses, men of malice:
You have christian warrant for them, and, no

doubt,

In time will find their fit rewards. That seal, You ask with such a violence, the king (Mine and your master) with his own hand gave

me:

Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honors,
During my life; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patent: Now, who'll take it?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol.

It must be himself then
Esher in Surrey.

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol.
Proud lord, thou liest;
Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.
Sur.
Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,)
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland;

Far from his succor, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.

Wol.
This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts: how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honor;
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate2 a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

Sur.

By my soul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel

My sword i' the life-blood of thee else.-My lords,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance?
And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded3 by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.4

Wol.

Is poison to thy stomach. Sur.

All goodness

Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets,

You writ to the pope, against the king; your goodness,

Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.-
My lord of Norfolk,-as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,-
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life:-I'll startle you
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this

And spotless, shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.
Sur.

Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable substance,

(By what means got, I leave to your own con-
science,)
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities; to the mere5 undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham.
O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:
His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.
Sur.
Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure
is,-

I forgive him.

Because all those things, you have done of late
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a præmunire,6
That therefore such a writ be sued against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be

Out of the king's protection :-This is my charge.
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and no doubt, shall thank
you.

So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
[Exeunt all but WOLSEY.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear me.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him:
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;
And-when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening-nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer
Never to hope again.-

Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, sir? Wol. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, decline? Nay, an you weep, How does your grace?

at you.

First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge,
You wrought to be a legate; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus

Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king
To be your servant.
Suf.
Then, that without the knowledge
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,
Without the king's will, or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.
Equal.

Ridden down.

A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth.

Why, well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell."
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me.
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honor;
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.
Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right
use of it.

Wol. I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)

To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom.

The heaviest and the worst,

Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol.

God bless him! Crom. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place.

Wol.

But he's a learned man. May he continue

• Absolute

That's somewhat sudden:

• A writ incurring a penalty.

Long in his highness' favor, and do justice
For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!
What more?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That's news indeed.
Crom.

Last, the lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was view'd in open, as his queen, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.
Cromwell,

The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell,
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master: Seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance
thee;

Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make uses now, and provide For thine own future safety.

Crom.

O, my lord,

Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all, that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.-
The king shall have my service; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;

And-when I am forgotten, as I shall be;

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mentica.
Of me more must be heard of-say, I taught thee,
Say, Wolsey-that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor-
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, tling away ambition
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate
thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not;
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O
Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king,
And,-Pr'ythee lead me in:

There take an inventory of all I have,

To the last penny: 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal

I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol.

So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

[Exeunt.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and behold

The lady Anne pass from her coronation?

The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is

coming.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of Trumpets; then enter,

1. Two Judges.

The duke of Buckingham came for his trial.

1 Gent. 'Tis very true; but that time offer'd sorrow; This, general joy.

2 Gent.

'Tis well: the citizens,

I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds;

fore him. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and, on his head, a gilt copper crown.

Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not:
And to be short, for not appearance, and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorced,
And the late marriage made of none effect:
Since which, she was remov'd to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

The chancellor is the guardian of orphans. Interest.

net on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high steward. With him the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS. 7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the Queen in her robe; in her hair, richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circles of gold without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me,-These I

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones. 1 Gent.

No more of that. Exit Procession, with a great flourish of Trumpets.

Enter a Third Gentleman.

God save you, sir! where have you been broiling? 3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a finger

Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

You saw

How was it?

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent.

Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man; which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose

As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.
2 Gent.
But, 'pray, what follow'd?
3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest
paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintlike,

Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state paced back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent.

Sir, you

Must no more call it York-place, that is past: For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost; 'Tis now the king's, and call'd-Whitehall. 3 Gent.

I know it;

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me. 2 Gent. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen? 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester,

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,) The other, London.

2 Gent.

He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent.

All the land knows that: However, yet there's no great breach; when it

3 Gent.

Thomas Cromwell;

A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
A worthy friend.-The king

Has made him master o' the jewel-house,
And one, already, of the privy-council.
2 Gent. He will deserve more.
3 Gent.
Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests
Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.
Both.

You may command us, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Kimbolton.

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between
GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.

Grif. How does your grace?
Kath.

O, Griffith, sick to death: My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden: 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 honor, cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

Grif. Yes, madam; but I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,9 For my example.

Grif 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. Kath.

Alas! poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honorably receiv'd 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!

Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this,
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
About the hour of eight, (which he himself
Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,

He gave his honors to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. 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
Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law; I' the 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:
He 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.
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?
Kath.

Grif. The cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honor. 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 lov'd him not; But,lo 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 unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. • Haply. 1 of the king. ⚫ Ipswich.