A Street in Westminster |
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Enter two Gentlemen, meeting. |
First Gen. You're well met once again. |
Sec. Gen. So are you. |
First Gen. You come to take your stand here, and behold |
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? |
Sec. Gen. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter |
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. |
First Gen. 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow; |
This, general joy. |
Sec. Gen. 'Tis well: the citizens, |
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds, |
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward, |
In celebration of this day with shows, |
Pageants, and sights of honour. |
First Gen. Never greater; |
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. |
Sec. Gen. May I be bold to ask what that contains, |
That paper in your hand? |
First Gen. Yes; 'tis the list |
Of those that claim their offices this day |
By custom of the coronation. |
The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims |
To be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, |
He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest. |
Sec. Gen. I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs, |
I should have been beholding to your paper. |
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine, |
The princess dowager? how goes her business? |
First Gen. That I can tell you too. The Archbishop |
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 was often 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 divorc'd, |
And the late marriage made of none effect: |
Since which she was remov'd to Kimbolton, |
Where she remains now sick. |
Sec. Gen. Alas! good lady! [Trumpets. |
The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming. [Hautboys. |
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THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION. |
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A lively flourish of trumpets. |
- Two Judges.
- Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.
- Choristers, singing. [Music.
- Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.
- MARQUESS DORSET, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the EARL OF SURREY, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.
- DUKE OF SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet 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.
- 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.
- The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S train.
- Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.
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They pass over the stage in order and state. |
Sec. Gen. A royal train, believe me. These I know; |
Who's that that bears the sceptre? |
First Gen. Marquess Dorset: |
And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod. |
Sec. Gen. A bold brave gentleman. That should be |
The Duke of Suffolk? |
First Gen. 'Tis the same; high-steward. |
Sec. Gen. And that my Lord of Norfolk? |
First Gen. Yes. |
Sec. Gen. [Looking on the QUEEN.] Heaven bless thee! |
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. |
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; |
Our king has all the Indies in his arms, |
And more and richer, when he strains that lady: |
I cannot blame his conscience. |
First Gen. They that bear |
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons |
Of the Cinque-ports. |
Sec. Gen. Those men are happy; and so are all are near her. |
I take it, she that carries up the train |
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. |
First Gen. It is; and all the rest are countesses. |
Sec. Gen. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed; |
And sometimes falling ones. |
First Gen. No more of that. [Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets. |
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Enter a third Gentleman. |
God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? |
Third Gen. Among the crowd i' the Abbey; where a finger |
Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled |
With the mere rankness of their joy. |
Sec. Gen. You saw |
The ceremony? |
Third Gen. That I did. |
First Gen. How was it? |
Third Gen. Well worth the seeing. |
Sec. Gen. Good sir, speak it to us. |
Third Gen. 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 awhile, 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 'em reel before them. No man living |
Could say, 'This is my wife,' there; all were woven |
So strangely in one piece. |
Sec. Gen. But, what follow'd? |
Third Gen. At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces |
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint-like, |
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 pac'd back again |
To York-place, where the feast is held. |
First Gen. Sir, |
You must no more call it York-place, that's past; |
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost: |
'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall. |
Third Gen. I know it; |
But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name |
Is fresh about me. |
Sec. Gen. What two reverend bishops |
Were those that went on each side of the queen? |
Third Gen. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester,— |
Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,— |
The other, London. |
Sec. Gen. He of Winchester |
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, |
The virtuous Cranmer. |
Third Gen. All the land knows that: |
However, yet there's no great breach; when it comes, |
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. |
Sec. Gen. Who may that be, I pray you? |
Third Gen. 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. |
Sec. Gen. He will deserve more. |
Third Gen. 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. |
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