You’re well met once again
You’re well met once again.
So are you.
You come to take your stand here and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
’Tis all my business. At our last encounter,
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
But that time offered sorrow,
This general joy.
’Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow,
This general joy.
’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 honor.
Nor, I’ll assure you, better taken, sir.
May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?
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.
He offers him the paper.
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 Katherine,
The Princess Dowager? How goes her business?
That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learnèd 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 appeared not;
And, to be short, for not appearance and
The King’s late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learnèd men she was divorced,
And the late marriage made of none effect;
Since which she was removed to Kymmalton,
Where she remains now sick.
Alas, good lady!
Hautboys. A lively flourish of trumpets.
The trumpets sound. Stand close. The Queen is coming.
Then, enter two Judges; Lord Chancellor, with purse
and mace before him. Choristers singing. Music.
Enter Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then
Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head he wore a
gilt copper crown.
A royal train, believe me! These I know.
Enter Marques Dorset, bearing a scepter 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 S’s.
Who’s that that bears the scepter?
And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod.
A bold brave gentleman.
Enter 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 S’s.
That should be
The Duke of Suffolk.
’Tis the same: High Steward.
And that my Lord of Norfolk?
Enter 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 her, the
Bishops of London and Winchester.
Heaven bless thee!
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked 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.
They that bear
The cloth of honor over her are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.
Those men are happy, and so are all are near her.
Enter 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
I take it she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
It is, and all the rest are countesses.
Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed.
And sometimes falling ones.
No more of that.
The Coronation procession exits, having
passed over the stage in order and state, and then
a great flourish of trumpets.