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They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,
In mine own country, lords.

Cam. I would, your grace

Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.

Q. Kath. How, sir?

Cam. Put your main cause into the king's protection; He's loving, and most gracious: 'twill be much Both for your honour better, and your cause; For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you, You'll part away disgrac'd.

Wol. He tells you rightly.

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my


Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye!
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge.
That no king can corrupt.

Cam. Your rage mistakes us.

Q. Kath, The more shame for ye; holy men I

thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues;
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye:
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com-

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd t
I will not wish ye half my miseries,
I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction; You turn the good we offer into envy.

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity; If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already; His love, too long ago: I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this.

Cam. Your fears are worse.

Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long-—(let me speak


Since virtue finds no friends,)—a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory,)
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd


Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him >
Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman 'to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour,—a great patience.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.

Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so


To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities. ^

Wol. 'Pray, hear me. .

Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English


Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye have angels' faces, but-fceaven knows your hearts.
What will become'of me now, wretched lady?
I am the most unhappy woman living.—
Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?

[To her women.

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me,
Almost, no grave allow'd me:—Like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

Wol. If your grace

Couid but be brought to know, our ends are honest,
You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady,
Upon what cause, wrong you? alas! our places,
The way of our profession is against it;
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them.
For goodness' sake, consider what you do;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,

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