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* Eight of the clock, eight of the clock: Nay, nay,' quoth he at last, it cannot be eight of the clock : for by eight of the clock ye shall lose your master; for my time draweth near that I must depart out of this world.'”.

The rapacity of the king is strikingly exhibited in the following passage: “And after dinner, Master Kingston called for me (Cavendish) into his chamber, and at my being there, said to me, "So it is that the king hath sent me letters by this gentleman, Master Vincent, one of your old companions, who hath been of late in trouble in the Tower of London for money that my lord should have at his last departing from him, which now cannot be found. Wherefore the king, at this gentleman's request, for the declaration of his truth, hath sent him hither with his grace's letters directed unto me, commanding me by virtue thereof to examine my lord in that behalf, and to have your council herein, how it may be done, that he may take it well and in good part. This is the chief cause of my sending for you ; therefore I pray you what is your best council to use in this matter for the true acquittal of this gentleman ?' "Sir,' quoth I, “as touching that matter, my simple advice shall be this, that your own person shall resort unto him and visit him, and in communication break the matter unto him; and if he will not tell the truth, there be that can satisfy the king's pleasure therein ; and in any wise speak nothing of my fellow Vincent. And I would not advise you to tract the time with him: for he is very sick, and I fear me he will not live past to-morrow in the morning.' Then went Master Kingston unto him, and asked first how he did, and so forth proceeded in communication, wherein Master Kingston demanded of him the said money, saying, “That my lord of Northumberland hath found a book at Cawood that reporteth how ye had but fifteen hundred pounds in ready money, and one penny thereof will not be found, who hath made the king privy by his letters thereof. Wherefore the king hath written unto me, to demand of you if you know where it is become ; for it were pity that it should be embezzled from you both. Therefore, I shall require you, in the king's name, to tell me the truth herein, to the intent that I may make just report unto his majesty what answer ye make therein.' With that my lord paused awhile, and said, “Ah, good lord ! how much doth it grieve me that the king should think in me such deceit, wherein I should deceive him of any one penny that I have. Rather than I would, Master Kingston, embezzle or deceive him of a mite, I would it were moult, and put in my mouth;' which words he spake twice or thrice very vehemently. “I have nothing, ne never had (God being my judge), that I esteemed, or had in it any such delight or pleasure, but that I took it for the king's goods, having but the bare use of the same during my life, and after my death to leave it to the king; wherein he hath but prevented my intent and purpose. And for this money that ye demand of me, I assure you it is none of mine; for I borrowed it of divers of my friends to bury me, and to bestow among my servants, who have taken great pains about me, like true and faithful men, Notwithstanding, if it be his pleasure to take this money from me, I must hold me therewith content. Yet I would most humbly beseech his majesty to see them satisfied, of whom I borrowed the same for the discharge of my conscience.' .... Sir,' quoth Master Kingston, 'there is no doubt in the king; ye need not to mistrust that, but when the king shall be advertised thereof, to whom I shall make report of your request, that his grace will do as shall become him. But, sir, I pray you, where is this money?' •Master Kingston,' quoth he, "I will not conceal it from the king; I will declare it to you, (ere) I die, by the grace of God. Take a little patience with me I pray you.'

Well, sir, then will I trouble you no more at this time, trusting that ye will show me to-morrow.'

“Howbeit my lord waxed very sick, most likeliest to die that night, and often swooned, and, as me thought, drew fast toward his end, until it was four of the clock in the morning, at which time, I asked him how he did : Well,' quoth he, “if I had any meat; I pray you give me some.' Sir, there is none ready,' said I. 'I wis, quoth he, ye be the more to blame, for you should have always some meat for me in a readiness, to eat when my stomach serveth me; therefore I pray you get me some ; for I intend this day, God willing, to make me strong, to the intent I may occupy myself in confession, and make me ready to God.' The dying man ate a spoonful or two. Then was he in confession the space of an hour. And when he had ended his confession, Master Kingston bade him good-morrow (for it was seven of the clock in the morning), and asked him how he did. "Sir,' quoth he, “I tarry but the will and pleasure of God, to render unto him my simple soul into his divine hands.' • Not yet so, sir,' quoth Master Kingston, with the grace of God, ye shall live, and do very well, if ye will be of good cheer.' Master Kingston, my disease is such that I cannot live; I have had some experience in my disease, and thus it is : I have a flux, with a continual fever; the nature whereof is this: that if there be no alteration with me of the same within eight days, then must either ensue excoriation of the entrails, or frenzy, or else present death ; and the best thereof is death. And as I suppose, this is the eighth day; and if ye see in me no alteration, then is there no remedy (although I may live a day or twain), but death which is the best remedy of the three. “Nay, sir, in good faith' quoth Master Kingston, “you be in such dolor and pensiveness, doubting that thing that indeed ye need not to fear, which maketh you much worse than ye should be.Well, well, Master Kingston,' quoth he, “I see the matter against me how it is framed; but if I had served God as diligently as I have done the king, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs. Howbeit this is the just reward that I must receive for my worldly diligence and pains that I may have had to do him service; only to satisfy his vain pleasure, not regarding my godly duty. Wherefore I pray you, with all my heart, to have me most humbly commended unto his royal majesty ; beseeching him in my behalf to call to his most gracious remembrance all matters proceeding between him and me, from the beginning of the world unto this day, and the progress of the same : and most chiefly in the weighty matter yet depending (meaning the matter newly began between him and the good Queen Katherine), then shall his conscience declare whether I have offended him or no. He is sure a prince of royal courage, and hath a princely heart; and rather than he will either miss or want any part of his will or appetite, he will put the loss of one-half of his realm in danger. For I assure you, I have often kneeled before him in his privy chamber on my knees, the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite, but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom. Therefore, Master Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be one of his privy council, as for your wisdom and other qualities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well advised and assured what matter ye put in his head, for ye shall never put it out again.'”

The narrative then goes on to exhibit a long speech of the Cardinal's against “ this new pernicious sect of Lutherans.” At last Wolsey said : • • Master Kingston, farewell; I can no more, but wish all things to have good success. My time draweth on fast I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I pray you, what I have said and charged you withal: for when I am dead, ye shall peradventure remember my words much better.' And even with these words he began to draw his speech at length, and his tongue to fail ; his eyes being set in his head, whose sight failed him. Then we began to put him in remembrance of Christ's passion; and sent for the abbot of the place to anneal him, who came with all speed and ministered unto him all the service to the same belonging; and caused also the guard to stand by, both to hear him talk before his death, and also to witness of the same; and incontinent the clock struck eight, at which time he gave up the ghost, and thus departed he this present life. And calling to our remembrance his words the day before, how he said that at eight of the clock we should lose our master, one of us looking upon another, supposing that he prophesied of his departure.

“Here is the end and fall of pride and arrogancy of such men, exalted by fortune to honours and high dignities; for I assure you, in his time of authority and glory, he was then the haughtiest man in all his proceedings that then lived, having more respect to the worldly honour of his person than he had to his spiritual profession; wherein should be all meekness, humility, and charity; the process whereof I leave to them that be learned and seen in divine laws.”


The Poets luxuriate in their descriptions of Morning and Evening. These descriptions belong more especially to the mornings and evenings of Summer, when “the breath of morn" is sweet, and “the coming on of gentle evening” is “mild."

First let us hear a quaint and simple old master sing the charms of MORNING.

The Sun, when he hath spread his rays,
And shewed his face ten thousand ways,
Ten thousand things do then begin
To show the life that they are in,
The heaven shews lively art and hue,
Of sundry shapes and colours new,

And laughs upon the earth; anon,
The earth as cold as any stone,
Wet in the tears of her own kind,
'Gins then to take a joyful mind.
For well she feels that out and out,
The sun doth warm her round about,
And dries her children tenderly;
And shews them forth full orderly.
The mountains high, and how they stand!
The valleys, and the great mainland !
The trees, the herbs, the towers strong,
The castles, and the rivers long.
And even for joy thus of this heat
She sheweth forth her pleasures great,
And sleeps no more; but sendeth forth
Her clergions, her own dear worth,
To mount and fly up to the air ;
Where then they sing in order fair,
And tell in song full merrily,
How they have slept full quietly
That night, about their mother's sides.
And when they have sung more besides,
Then fall they to their mother's breast.
Whereas they feed, or take their rest.
The hunter then sends out his horn,
And rangeth straight through wood and corn.
On hills then shew the ewe and lamb,
And every young one with his dam.
Then lovers walk, and tell their tale,
Both of their bliss and of their bale;
And how they serve, and how they do,
And how their lady loves them too.
Then tune the birds their harmony;
Then flock the fowl in company;
Then everything doth pleasure find
In that, that comforts all their kind.


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