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 Tho. mas 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 me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgement, 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 pot 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 loy'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 pame.

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

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.
Vaur.

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 Bo.

hun:
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!
Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
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:
And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.-I have done ; and God forgive

me! [Ereunt 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.

C 2 .

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 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 archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is't

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.

* Great fidelity.

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, ridden, and furnished. They were young, and handsome; 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: He will have all, I think,

Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor.

Well met, my good
Lord chamberlain.
Cham.

Good day to both your graces.
Suff. How is the king employ'd ?
Chum,

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 Has crept too near his conscience. Suff.

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,