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Without delay; and the pretence for this
bold mouths ; Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts
freeze Allegiance in them; their curses now Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to
By my life,
And for me,
know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing, let me say 'T is but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our 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 80 Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still, In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, We should take root here where we sit, or sit State-statues only. King.
Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue 60 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 pardon to each man that has deni'd The force of this commission. Pray, look to't; I put it to your care. Wol.
A word with you.
(To the Secretary, aside.] Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the King's grace and pardon. The grieved Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. (Exit Secretary.
Enter SURVEYOR. Q. Kath. I am sorry that the Duke of Buck
ingham Is run in your displeasure. King.
It grieves many, 110
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 dispos'd, the mind growing once cor
rupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so com
plete, 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, in 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 Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham. King.
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'll carry it so To make the sceptre his. These very words * I've heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he men
ac'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 140 His will is most malignant; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends.
Q. Kath. My learn'd Lord Cardinal, Deliver all with charity. King.
Speak on. How grounded he his title to the crown? Upon our fail ? To this point hast thon heard
him At any time speak aught? Surv.
He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton. King. What was that Henton ? Surv.
Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor ; who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty. King.
How know'st thou this? Surv. Not long before your Highness sped to
France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey. I repli’d, 155 Men fear the French would prove perfidious, To the King's danger. Presently the Duke Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that be
doubted 'T would prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk, “that oft," says he, 18
* Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
heirs, Tell you the Duke, shall prosper. Bid him
strive To gain the love o' 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. King.
Let him on. Go forward.
Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. I told my lord the Duke, by the devil's illu
sions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 't was
dangerous for him To ruminate on this so far, until It forg'd him some design; which, being be
liev'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.
Ha! what, so rank ? Ah ha ! 186 There's mischief in this man, Canst thou say
Being at Greenwich,
I remember 190 Of such a time; being my sworn servant, The Duke retain'd him his. But on; what
hence ? Surv. “If," quoth he, “I for this had been
committed," - As, to the Tower, I thought, –“I would
A giant traitor!
in freedom, And this man out of prison ? 2. Kath.
God mend all! King. There's soniething more would out of
thee; what say'st ? Surv. After the Duke his father," with
** the knife,"?
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his
dagger, Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour Was, were he evil us’d, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose. King.
There's his period, To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd. 216 Call him to present trial. If he may Find mercy in the law, 't is his; if none, Let him not seek 't of us. By day and night, He's traitor to the height.
[Exeunt. SCENE III. [An ante-chamber in the palace.] Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN and LORD
SANDYS. Cham. Is 't possible the spells of France
should juggle Men into such strange mysteries ? San.
New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. Cham. As far as I see, all the good our Eng
lish Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd For when they hold 'em, you would swear di
One would take it,
Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
How now! 16 What news, Sir Thomas Lovell ? Lov.
Faith, my lord I hear of none, but the new proclamation That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. Cham.
What is 't for? Lov. The reformation of our travell’d gal
lants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and
tailors. Cham. I'm glad 't is there. Now I would
pray our monsieurs
They must either,
travel, And understand again like honest men,
Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take
it, They may, cum privilegio," wear away, The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.
San. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their disAre grown so catching. Cham.
What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities ! Lov.
Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoreHave got a speeding trick to lay down ladies. 40 A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. San. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they
are going, For, sure, there's no converting of 'em. 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 Sandys; Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. San.
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.
0, 't is 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 yon. Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous
mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall everywhere. Cham.
No doubt he's noble; He had a black mouth that said other of him. San. He may, my lord; has wherewithal ; in
him Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doc
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, a For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford This night to be comptrollers. San.
I am your lordship's.
(Ereunt. SCENE IV. (A Hall in York Place.) Hautboys. A small table under a state for the
Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter ANNE BULLEN and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door ; at another door, enter Sır HENRY GUILDFORD. Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his
To fair content and you. None here, he bopes, 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 sel
come, Can make good people. Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN, LORD SANDES, and Sir THOMAS LOVELL.
O, my lord, you 're tardy; The very thought of this fair company Clapp'd wings to me. Cham.
You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. San. 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 'em. By my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones. Lov. O, that your lordship were but now
I would I were ;
Faith, how easy? San. As easy as a down-bed would afford it. Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit ?
Sir Harry, 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. My Lord Sandys, you are one will keep 'em
waking; Pray, sit between these ladies. San.
By my faith, And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet
Was he mad, sir? San. 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.
(Kisses her.) Cham.
Well said, my lord. So, now you 're fairly seated. Gentlemen, The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies Pass away frowning. San.
For my little cure, Let me alone. Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, and takes
his state. Wol. You're welcome, my fair guests. That
noble lady Or gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome; And to you all, good health.
Your Grace is noble. Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, And save me so much talking. Wol.
My Lord Sandys, I am beholding to you ; cheer your neighbours
Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen,
The red wine first must rise In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall
have 'em Talk us to silence. Anne.
You are a merry gamester, My Lord Sandys. San.
Yes, if I make my play, Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam, For 't is to such a thing, Anne.
You cannot show me. San. I told your Grace they would talk anon.
(Drum and trumpet, chambers dis
What's that? Cham. Look out there, some of ye.
(Erit Servant.] Wol.
What warlike voice, And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear
not; By all the laws of war you 're privileg'd.
Re-enter SERVANT. Cham. How now! what is 't ? Serv.
A noble troop of strangers, For so they seem. They've left their barge and
Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;
receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
[Exit Chamberlain, attended.] All
rise, and tables remov'd. 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 ye. Welcome all ! Hautboys. Enter the King and others, as
masquers, habited like shepherds, usher'd by the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. "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
Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace; for
which I pay 'em A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures.
(They choose Ladies (for the dance).
The King chooses Anne Bullen.
King. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! 0
beauty, Till now I never knew thee ! [Music. Dance.
Wol. My lord ! Cham.
Your Grace? Wol. Pray, tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst 'em, by his per
son, More worthy this place than myself; to whom, If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it. Cham.
I will, my lord.
[Whispers (the Masquers). Wol. What say they ? Cham.
Such a one, they all confess, There is indeed; which they would have your
Let me see, then. By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll
make My royal choice. King. Ye have found him, Cardinal.
I am glad
My Lord Chamberlain, Prithee, 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, King. By heaven, she is a dainty one.
Sweetheart, 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 l' the privy chamber? Lov.
Yes, my lord. Wol.
Your Grace, I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
King. I fear, too much.
Wol. There's fresher air, my lord, In the next chamber. King. Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet
partner, I must not yet forsake you ; let's be merry. Good my Lord Cardinal, l' have half a dozen
healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once again, and then let 's dream Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt with trumpets.
ACT II SCENE I. (Westminster. A street.) Enter two GENTLEMEN at several doors. 1. Gent. Whither away so fast? 2. Gent.
0, God save ye !
Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
I'll save you That labour, sir. All's now done, but the
ceremony 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 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
That was he That fed him with his prophecies ? 1. Gent.
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 him
self? 1. Gent. When he was brought again to the
bar, to hear His knell rung out, his judgement, 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 ; 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.
'T is likely, 40 By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remov’d,
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.
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
staves before him ; the axe with the edge towards
Stay there, sir, And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
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 I have this day receiv'd a traitor's
judgement, And by that name must die ; yet, Heaven bear
witness, 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 ; "T has done, upon the premises, but justice; But those that sought it I could wish more
Christians. Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em ; Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief, Nor build their evils on the graves of great
men, For then my guiltless blood must cry against
'em. 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
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 that I cannot take peace with ; no Shall mark 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, 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 !
me, black envy