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

Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, || Go forward.
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous 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.

Speak freely.

K. Hen.
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 menac'd
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 learn'd 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.

I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang 'rous for him,

To ruminate on this so far, until

It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
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?

As to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which, if
granted,

As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.

K. Hen.
Wol. Now, madaın, may
freedom,

A giant traitor! his highness live in

Sir, a Chartreux friar, And this man out of prison? His confessor; who fed him every minute Q. Kath. God mend all! With words of sovereignty. K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee; What say'st?

K. Hen.

How know'st thou this?
Surv. Not long before your highness sped to
France,

The duke being at the Rose,2 within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did 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, wishing 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 ensu'd,-Neither the king, nor his
heirs,

you

(Tell the duke) shall prosper: bid him 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,
You 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 :

(1) Conduct, manage.
(2) Now Merchant-Taylor's School.

Men into such strange mysteries?
Sands.
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 of the face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold them, you would swear directly,
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,
(3) Grimace.

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 playfellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio,3 wear away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. 'Tis time to give them physic, their dis-I

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this: His grace is ent'ring.-Nay, you must not freeze; Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:plain-My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking; Pray, sit between these ladies.

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-Of

2 Gent.

Pray, speak, what has happen'd?||Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me, 1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, 2 Gent. And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear wit

Is he found guilty?
1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it.
2 Gent. I am sorry for't.
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 alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd
To him brought, viva voce, to his face :
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2 Gent.

That fed him with his prophecies?

1 Gent.

That was he,

The same.

All these accus'd 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
to hear

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 malice 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 lov'd

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;
bar,-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 belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

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 show'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.
1 Gent.

Sure, he does not.

'Tis likely,

By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,

Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2 Gent.

Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent.

That trick of state,

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.
Enter Buckingham from his arraignment; Tip-
staves before him, the are with the edge towards
him; halberds on each side; with him, Sir
Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William
Sands, and common people.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Buck.
All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity ine,
(1) Close.

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.

Vaux.

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 lord 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
for't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Heary the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
Restor'd 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 lov'd 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 you make
friends,

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour,
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell:

me!

And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive
[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 wo: 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.

I do not talk much.

2 Gent.

Let me have it;

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 arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.

1 Gent.
'Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the league

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great
nephew,

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his mar-
riage:

And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king: And is not this course pious?
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis

most true,

These news are every where; every tongue speaks
them,

And every true heart weeps for't: All, that dare
Look into these affairs, see this main end,-
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

Suff

And free us from his slavery.
Nor. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance;

2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is'tOr this imperious man will work us all

not cruel,

'Tis woful.

From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch2 he please.
Suff
For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed:
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the king please; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him, that made him proud, the pope.
Nor.

Let's in:

That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall. 1 Gent. We are too open here to argue this; Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. SCENE II-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 had, I saw well chosen, rid-And, with some other business, put the king den, and furnished. They were young, and hand-From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon some; and of the best breed 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 master 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

(1) Great fidelity.

him :

My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cham.
Excuse me;
The king hath sent me other-where: Besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.

Nor.

Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. (Exit Lord Chamberlain

(2) High or low.