_Kath._ Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone,[702] And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? _Grif._ Madam, we are here. _Kath._ It is not you I call for: 85 Saw ye none enter since I slept? _Grif._ None, madam. _Kath._ No? Saw you not even now a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?[703] They promised me eternal happiness, 90 And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly.[704] _Grif._ I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. _Kath._ Bid the music leave; They are harsh and heavy to me. [_Music ceases._[705] _Pat._ Do you note 95 How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks, And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes![706] _Grif._ She is going, wench: pray, pray. _Pat._ Heaven comfort her! _Enter a_ Messenger.[707] _Mess._ An't like your grace,--[708] _Kath._ You are a saucy fellow: 100 Deserve we no more reverence? _Grif._ You are to blame,[709] Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,[710] To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. _Mess._ I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying 105 A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. _Kath._ Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow Let me ne'er see again. [_Exeunt Griffith and Messenger._ _Re-enter_ GRIFFITH, _with_ CAPUCIUS.[711] If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.[712] 110 _Cap._ Madam, the same; your servant. _Kath._ O, my lord, The times and titles now are alter'd strangely With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you,[713] What is your pleasure with me? _Cap._ Noble lady, First, mine own service to your grace; the next, 115 The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort. _Kath._ O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 120 'Tis like a pardon after execution: That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; But now I am past all comforts here but prayers. How does his highness? _Cap._ Madam, in good health.