ACT

SCENE I.

A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen at several doors.

3 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 ceremony 10 And far enough from court too,
Of bringing back the prisoner.

2 Gent. All the cominons

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.

II.

Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

2 Gent. hat trick of state

5 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,

Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love and doat on; call him, bounteous Buck15 The mirrour of all courtesy ;[ingham,

1 Gent. Stay there, sir,

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. Enter Buckingham from his arraignment, (Tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge toward him; halberds on each side,) accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovel, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common people, &e.

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

25 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
witness,

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 bar,
-to hear

His knell rung out, his judgement,—he was stirr'd 45
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,

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

20

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 alledg'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 have brought, vivá voce, to his face :
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court, 30 And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Confessor to him; with that devil monk
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,

2 Gent. That was he,

T has done, upon the premises, but justice;

That fed him with his prophecies?

But those, that sought it, I could wish more christians:

1 Gent. The same.

35

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.
40 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,
50 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

55

Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovel, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences

This circumstance is taken from Holinshed.

Xx4

"Gaine

'Gainst me, that I can't take peace with: no black envy

Shall makemygrave. Commendmetohis grace;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him,
You met him half in heaven: my vows and 5

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! [grace;

Loc. To the water-side I must conduct your
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, Si 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:

Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell:

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

1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us! What 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.

10

1 Gent. Let me have it;

I do not talk much.

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it;
And with that blood, will make 'em 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
Aly fathers 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 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 you make 50
friends,

45

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 you; the last

hour

2 Gent. I am confident;

15 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 20 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
25 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,
30 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, 35 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 car-
dinal

40 Will have his will, and she must fall.
1 Gent. 'Tis woeful.

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. An Antichamber in the Palace. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. 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

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; a subject, if not before the king: which stopp'd our with this reason,-His musterwould best rv'd before mouths, sir.

55

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

60

Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. Nor. Well met, my lord chamberlain. Cham. Good day to both your graces.

i. e. great fidelity.

! Meaning, that envy should not procure or advance his death.

Suf.

Nor. Tis so;

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal: 10||
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. This king will know him
one day.
[else.
Suf. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself
Nor. How holly 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,

Suf. And free us from his slavery.
Nor. We had need pray,

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters 20
Doubts, dangers, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage:
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? 30I
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel!
'Tis most true,
['em,
These news are every where; every tongue speaks
And every true heart weeps for 't: All, that dare
Look into these affairs, see his main end, [open 35
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

1

And heartily, for our deliverance;

Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.

2

Suf. 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,

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain. A door opens, and discovers the King sitting and reading pensively.

Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

King. Who's there? ha?

Nor. Pray God, he be not angry!

King. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves

Into my private meditations?

Who am I? ha?

The king hath sent me other-where: besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.

1 The duchess of Alençon. Pitch here implies height.

1

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences,
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way,
Is business of estate; in which, we come
To know your royal pleasure.

15

King. You are too bold:

Goto; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?
Enter Wolsey, and Campeius with a Commission..
Who's there? my good lord cardinal?——O my
Wolsey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience,

25

Thou art a cure fit for a king,-You're welcome,
[To Campeius.
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
Use us, and it :-My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
[To Wolsey.

Wol. Sir, you cannot. would, your grace would give us but an hour Of private conference.

King. We are busy; go.

[To Norf. and Sug
Nor. This priest has no pride in him?
Suf. Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though, for his
place:

But this cannot continue.

Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.

40 Suf. I another. [Exeunt Norf. and Suf.

Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: 45 Who can be angry now? what envy reach you! The Spaniard, ty'd by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if he have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks, If the king please; his curses and his blessings I mean, the learned ones, in christian kingdoms, Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. 50 Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judge I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him To him that made him proud,—the popc.

Nor. Let's in;

Aside.

ment,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent

One general tongue unto us, this good man,

This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius;

And, with some other business, put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much 55 Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.
upon him:

My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cham. Excuse me;

King. And, once more, in mine arms I bid him
welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves; They have sent me such a man I would have 60 wish'd for. [gers' loves, Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all stran

2 Meaning, that the cardinal can, as he pleases, make high or low. 3 i, e. so sick as he is proud.

Your

His highness having liv'd so long with her; and she
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life,
She never knew harm-doing;-0 now, after
5 So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,-the which
To leave is a thousand-fold more bitter, than
Tis sweet at first to acquire,-after this process,
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

Old L. Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.

You are so noble: To your highness' hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,
The court of Rome commanding)-you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant,
In the unpartial judging of this business.

King. Two equal men. The queen shall be
acquainted
[diner
Forthwith, for what you come:- -Where's Gar-
Wol. I know, your majesty has always lov'd
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

[her 10

King. Ay, and the best, she shall have; and my favour

Anne. O, God's will! much better,"

15

She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old L. Alas, poor lady!

To him that does best, God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary ;]
I find him a fit fellow.
Cardinal goes out, and re-enters with Gardiner.
Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour
You are the king's now.
[to you; 20
Gard. But to be commanded
[me.
For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised
[Aside.

She's stranger now again.
Anne. So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow,

Old L. Our content,

King.Comehither, Gardiner. [Walksandwhispers. Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace 25 In this man's place before him?

Wol. Yes, he was.

Cam. Was he not held a learned man?

Is our best having".

Anne. By my troth, and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.

Old L. Beshrew ine, I would,

And venture inaidenhead for't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy:
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which
(Saving your mincing) the capacity [gits
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

6

Anne. Nay, good troth.

[be a queen? Old L. Yes, troth and troth,-You would not Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me,

45

Old, as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you,
What think you of a dutchess? have you limbs
To bear that load of title?

Wol. Yes, surely.

[then

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread 30 Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol. How! of me?

An Antichamber of the Queen's Apartments.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
Anne. Not for that neither;-Here's the
that pinches :

pang

[him ;[
Cam. They will not stick to say, you envy'd
And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still: which so griev'd 35
That he ran mad, and dy'd.
[him,

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him!
That's christian care enough for living murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool;
For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, 40
If I command him, follows my appointment;
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live to be grip'd by meaner persons.

King. Deliver this with modesty to the queen.
[Exit Gardiner
The most convenient place that I can think of,
For such receipt of learning, is Black-friars;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business:-
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
Sosweeta bedfellow?but,conscience, conscience,--
O,'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.

Anne. No, in truth.

[a little ';
Old L. Then you are weakly made: pluck off
50I would not be a young count'in your way,
For more than blushing comes to: if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne, How you do talk!

55I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

Old L. In faith, for little England

2 i. e. to send

1i. e. kept him out of the king's presence, by employing him in foreign embassies, her away contemptuously. Dr. Warburton says, "she calls fortune a quarrel or arrow, from her striking so deep and suddenly. Quarrel was a large arrow so called."-Dr, Johnson, however, thinks the poet may be easily supposed to use quarrel for quarreller, as murder for murderer, the act for the agent. í. e. she is again an alien; not only no longer queen, but no longer an Englishwoman. i. e. our best possession. • Cheveril, kid-skin, soft leather, i. e. let us descend still lower, and more upon a level with your own quality.

You'd

You'd venture an emballing': I myself
Vould for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes

here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain,

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth, to know

The secret of your conference?

Anne. My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.

5

A very fresh fish here, (fye, fye upon
This compell'd fortune !) have your mouth fill'd
Before you open it.
[up,
[no.

Anne. This is strange to me.

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence',
There was a lady once, ('tis an old story)
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Ægypt :-Have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.

10

Old L. With your theme, I could O'er-mount the lark. The marchioness of Pem broke!

A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect;
No other obligation: by my life,

That promises more thousands: honour's train
Is longer than his fore-skirt. By this time,
I know, your back will bear a dutchess;-say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
Anne. Good lady,

20

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me,
To think what follows.

Anne. Now I pray God, Amen! [blessings 15
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high notes
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pounds a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne. I do not know,

What kind of my obedience I should tender:
More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers,
and wishes,

Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a blushing handinaid, to his highness;
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.

The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 25 In our long absence: pray, do not deliver What here you have heard, to her.

Old L. What do you think me?

30

Cham. Lady,

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, [Aside.
That they have caught the king: and who knows
yet,

40

But from this lady may proceed a gem,
To lighten all this isle--I'll to the king,
And say, I spoke with you.

[lain. 45

Anne. My honour'd lord. [Exit Lord Chamber-
Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds: and you, (O, fate!)

'SCENE IV.

35

A Hall in Black-Fryars. Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short Silver Wands; next them, two Scribes, in the hahits of Doctors; after them, the Archbishop of Canterbury alme; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the Great Seal, and a Cardinal's Hat; then two Priests, bearing each a Silver Cross; then a Gentleman-usher bareheaded, accompanied with a Serjeant at Arms, bearing a Silver Mace; then two Gentlemen, bear ing two great Silver Pillars'; after them, side by side, two Cardinals; two Noblemen with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place under the Cloth of State; the two Cardinals sit under him, as Judges. The Queen takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the Court, in manner of a Consistory; below them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the

[Exeunt.

The meaning, according to Dr. Johnson, is, "You would venture to be distinguished by the ball, the ensign of royalty." Mr. Tollet, however, says, " Dr, Johnson's explanation cannot be right, because a queen-consort, such as Anne Bullen was, is not distinguished by the ball, the ensign 2 From this and many other of royalty, nor has the poet expressed that she was so distinguished.” artful strokes of address, the poet has thrown in upon queen Elizabeth and her mother, it should seem, that this play was written and performed in his royal mistress's time; if so, some lines were added 3 Mr. Steevens on this by him in the last scene, after the accession of her successor, king James. passage remarks," Forty pence was in those days the proverbial expression of a small wager, or a small sum. Money was then reckoned by pounds, marks, and nobles. Forty pence is half a noble, or the sixth part of a pound. Forty pence, or three and four pence, still remains in many offices the legal and established fee." * Dr. Burney in his General History of Music conjectures, that sennet may mean a flourish for the purpose of assembling chiefs, or apprizing the people of their approach. Mr. Steevens › Pillars adds, that he has been informed that seneste is the name of an antiquated French tune. were some of the ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals. Wolsey had two great silver pillars usually borne before him by two of the tallest priests that he could get within the realm. This remarkable piece of pageantry did not escape the notice of Shakspeare,

Bishops.