Oar necessary actions, in the fear

To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow

That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd I; what worst, as oft,
Hiting a grosser quality, is cried up

For our best act. If we shell stand still,

In fear our motion will be inock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State statues only.

K. Hen. Things done well,

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission? I believe, not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution! Why, we take,
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To every county,
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Free pardou to each man that has denied'
The force of this commission: pray, look to't;
put it to your care.

I

Wol. A word with you.

To the Secretary.

Let there be letters writ to every shire,

Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved com

K. Hen. How kuow'st thou this?

Surv. Not long before your highness sped to
France,

The duke being at the Ross, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, aid of me demand
What was the speech amongst the Londoners
Concerning the French journey: I replied,
Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted,
Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk; that oft, says he,
Hath sent to me, uishing me to permit
John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living, but
To me, should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensued,--Neither the king, nor his
heirs,

(Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid kim strive To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke Shall govern England.

Q. Kath. If I know you well,

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed, Yon charge not in your spleen a noble person, And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you.

K. Hen. Let him on :

Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.

I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions The monk might be deceived; and that 'twas dangerous for him,

To ruminate on this so far, until

ham

Is run in your displeasure.

K. Hen. It grieves many:

The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker, To nature none more bound; his training such, That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, And never seek for aid out § of himself.

Yet see,

When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
Hath into nonstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear
(This was his gentleman in trust), of him
Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices; whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what you,

Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham.

K. Hen. Speak freely.

Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, that if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
To make the sceptre his: these very words
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menaced
Revenge upon the cardinal.

Wol. Please your highness, note
This dangerous conception in this point.

Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant; and it stretches
Beyond you, to your friends;

Q. Kath. My learned lord cardinal,

Deliver all with charity.

K. Hen. Speak on:

How grounded he his title to the crown,

Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him

At any time speak aught?

Surv. He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
K. Hen. What was that Hopkins?

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.

It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush!
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.

K. Hen. Ha! What, so rank? Ah, ha! There's mischief in this man:-Canst thou say further?

thee; what say'st?

Surv. Atter-the duke his father-with the knife, He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour Was,-Were he evil used, he would out-go His father, by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.

K. Hen. There's his period,

To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd;
Call him to present trial: if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us: by day and night,
He's traitor to the height.

[Exeunt.

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely
A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold them, you would swear di-
rectly,

Their very noses had been counsellors

To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.
Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones;
one would take it,

That never saw them pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt + reign'd among them.

Cham. Death My lord,

Their clothes are after such a pagan cat too,
That, sure, they have worn out christendom. How

now?

What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

Enter Sir THOMAS LOVELY

Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Cham. I am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs

To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre 1.

Lov. They must either

(For so run the conditions), leave these remnants
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance,
Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fireworks;
Abusing better men than they can be,

Out of a foreign wisdom), renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like Honest men;
Or pack to their old play fellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. Tis time to give them physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

Cham. What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities!

Lov. Ay, marry,

SCENE IV.-The Presence-Chamber in York-Place. Hautboys.-A small Table under a State for the CARDINAL, a longer Table for the Guests.-Enter at one Door, ANNE BULLEN, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as Guests; at another Door, enter Sir HENRY GUILDFORD.

Guild, Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all: this night he dedicates To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy, has brought with her One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As first-good company, good wine, good welcome Can make good people.-0, my lord, you are tardy;

Enter Lord CHAMBERLAIN, Lord SANDS, and Sir
THOMAS LOVELL.

The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.

Cham. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they rested, I think, would better please them: by my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones.

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con

fessor

sons

Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they're

going;

(For, sure, there's no converting of them ;) now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song, And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-lady, Held current music too.

Cham. Well said, lord Sands;

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands. No, my lord;

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Cham, Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a going?

Lov. To the cardinal's; Your lordship is a guest too.

Cham. O, 'tis true:

This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be

The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.

Cham. No doubt, he's noble;

He had a black mouth, that said other of him. Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; in him,

Sparing would shew a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal,
They are set here for examples.

Cham. True, they are so;

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; Your lordship shall along:-Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else; which I would not be,

ladies:

[Seats himself between Anne Bullen and another
Lady.

I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
Anne. Was he ad, Sir?

Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:
But he would bite none; just as I do now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

Cham. Well said, my lord.

[Kisses her.

The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies

So, now you are fairly seated :-Gentlemen,

Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cure, Let me alone.

Hautboys-Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, attended; and

takes his State.

Talk us to silence.

Anne. You are a merry gamester, My lord Sands.

Sands. Yes, if I make my play

Here's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam, For 'tis to such a thing,

Anne. You cannot shew me.

Sands. I told your grace they would talk anon. [Drum and Trumpets within: Chambers discharged.

Wol. What's that?'

• Company. + Choose my game. Small cannon,

tongue;

And pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them :-Some attend him.-
[Exit Chamberlain, attended.—All arise, and
Tables removed.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.
A good digestion to you all: and, once more,
I shower a welcome on you;-Welcome all.
Hautboys.-Enter the KING, and Twelve others, as
Maskers, habited like Shepherds, with Sixteen
Torch-barers; ushered by the Lord CHAMEKR-
LAAN. They pass directly before the CARDINAL,
and gracefully salute him.

A noble company! What are their pleasures? Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd

To tell your grace;-That, having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly

This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of levels with them.

Wol. Say, lord Chamberlain,

They have done my poor house grace, for which 1 pay them

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasares. [Ladies chosen for the Dance.-The King chooses Anne Bullen. K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! 0, beauty!

Till now I never knew thee.
Wol. My lord,-

Cham. Your grace?

[Music.-Dance.

Wol. Pray tell them thus much from me;

There should be one amongst them, by his person,
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.

Hol. I am glad,

Your grace is grown so pleasant.

K. Hen. My lord chamberlain, Prythee, come hither: What fair lady's that? Cham.. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter,

The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women. K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweet heart,

I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round,

Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready

P the privy chamber?

Lov. Yes, my lord.

Wol. Your grace,

I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

K. Hen, I fear, too much.

Wol. There's fresher air, my lord,

In the next chamber.

To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure⚫
To lead them once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt, with Trumpets.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-A Street.

Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast?

2 Gent. O, God save you!

Even to the hall, to hear what shall become

Of the great duke of Buckingham.

1 Gent. I'll save you

That labour, Sir. All's now done, but the cere mony

Of bringing back the prisoner. 2 Gent. Were you there?

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.

2 Gent. Pray speak, what has happen'd?

1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.

2 Gent. Is he found guilty?

1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it. 2 Gent. I am sorry for't.

1 Gent. So are a number more.

2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke Came to the bar; where, to his accusations, He pleaded still, not guilty, and alledged Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The king's attorney, on the contrary, Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired To him brought, vivů voce, to his face: At which appear'd against him, his surveyor; Sir Guibert Peck his chancellor; and John Court, Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, Hopkins, that made this mischief. 2 Gent. That was he, That fed him with his prophecies? 1 Gent. The same.

All these accused him strongly; which he fain Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:

And so, his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten.

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,to hear

His knell rung out, his judgment,-he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly,
In all the rest shew'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think he fears death.

1 Gent. Sure, he does not,

He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.

2 Gent. Certainly,

The cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gent. 'Tis likely,

By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who removed,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

2 Gent. That trick of state Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent. At his return,

No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally; whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.

2 Gent. All the commons

Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love and dote on; call him, bounteous Buck

ingham,

The mirror of all courtesy ;

1 Gent. Stay there, Sir,

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

• Dance.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buck. All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day received a traitor's judgment,
And by that name must die; yet heaven bear wit-

ness,

And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no nalice for my death,
It has done, upon the premises, but justice;
But those that sought it, I could wish more Chris-
tians:

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that loved
me,

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,

And lift my soul to heaven.-Lead on, o' God's

name.

Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart

Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy
Shall make my grave.-Commend me to his grace;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him,
You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake me,
Shall cry for blessings on him; may he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever beloved, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

Lov. To the water-side I must conduct your grace; Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who undertakes you to your end.

Faux. Prepare there,

The duke is coming: see the barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture, as suits
The greatness of his person.

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,

Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was loid high constable, And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward

Bohun:

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,

That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it; And with that blood will make them one day groan fort.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingharı,
Who first raised head against usurping Zichard,
Plying for succour to his servant Balster,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!
Heary the seventh succeeding, truly pity ing
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,-Both
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most;
A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,
Be sure you be not loose; for those yon make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in you fortunes, fall away

Close,

Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive me! [Exeunt Buckingham and Train.

1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!-Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads, That were the authors.

2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless, "Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

Greater than this.

1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us! Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, Sir! 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gent. Let me have it;

I do not talk much.

2 Gent. I am confident;

You shall, Sir: Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent. Yes, but it held not:

For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

2 Gent. But that slander, Sir

Is found a truth now: for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain,
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her: to confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;
As all taink, for this business.

1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his acking, The archbishoprie of Toledo, this is purposed. 2 Gest. I think, you have hit the mark: but ist

not cruel,

That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.
1 Gent. 'Tis woful.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 11.-An Ante-chamber in the Palace. Enter the Lord CHAMBERLAIN, reading a Letter.

Cham. My lord,-The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I hol, I saw well chosen, riften, and furnished. They were young and handsome; and of the best bread in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord Cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason,-His mastr would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, Sir.

I fear, he will, indeed: well, let him have them; He will have all, I think.

Enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Ner. Well inet; my good

Lord chamberlain.

Cham. Good day to both your graces.
Suf. How is the king employ'd?
Cham. I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor. What's the cause?

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife

Hath crept too near his conscience.
Suf. No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
Nor. 'Tis so;

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him one
day.

Suf. Pray God, he do! He'll never know himself

else.

Ner. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! For, Low he has crack'd the league

• Great fidelity.