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I'll follow, and out-stare him.
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the cardinal Nor.
Stay, my lord, Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And let your reason with your
And for his own advantage. What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills,
I am sorry Requires slow pace at first : anger is like
To hear this of him; and could wish he were A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
Something mistaken in't. Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
No, not a syllable: Can advise me like you : be to yourself,
I do pronounce him in that very shape, As you would to your friend.
He shall appear in proof, Buck,
I'll to the king; Enter Brandon; a Sergeant at Arms before him, and And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
two or three of the Guard. This Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaim
Bran. Your office, sergeant; execute it. There's difference in no persons.
Be advis'd; My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I That it do singe yourself: we may outrun
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name By violent swiftness that which we run at,
Of our most sovereign king. And lose by over-running. Know you not,
Lo, you, my lord!
I am sorry More stronger to direct you than yourself,
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on If with the sap of reason you would quench,
The business present. "Tis his highness' pleasure, Or but allay, the fire of passion.
You shall to the Tower.
It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence ; for that die is on me,
heaven From sincere motions, by intelligence,
Be done in this and all things.--I obey.-And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
0! my lord Abergan'y, fare you well. We see each grain of gravel, I do know
Bran. Nay, he must bear you company. The king To be corrupt and treasonous.
[To ABERGAVENNY. Nor. Say not, treasonous. Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you
know Buck. To the king I'll say't, and make my vouch How he determines farther, as strong
As the duke said, As shore of rock. Attend: this holy fox,
The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous,
By me obey'd. As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief,
Here is a warrant from As able to perform't, his mind and place
The king t' attach lord Montacute; and the bodies Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally)
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car, Only to show his pomp, as well in France
And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,As here at home, suggests the king, our master,
These are the limbs o' the plot.-No more, I hope.
0! Nicholas Hopkins?
. Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning Buck. My surveyor is false : the o'er-great cardinal cardinal
Hath show'd him gold. My life is spann'd already: The articles o' the combination drew,
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, As he cried, “ Thus let be," to as much end,
By darkening my clear sun.--My lord, farewell. As give a crutch ť' the dead. But our count-cardinal
[Exeunt. Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
SCENE II.- The Council-Chamber. Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, (Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal's To the old dam, treason) Charles the emperor,
shoulder; Wolsey, the Lords of the Council, Sir
Thomas Lovell, Officers, Secretary. Under pretence to see the queen, his aunt, (For 'twas, indeed, his colour, but he came
K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of it, To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation :
I stood i' the level
Of a full charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
And point by point the treasons of his master
Suffolk: she kneels. The King rises from his There is no primer business.
By my life,
And for me,
A single voice, and that not pass'd me but Repeat your will, and take it.
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am Q. Kath.
Thank your majesty. Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know That you would love yourself, and in that love My faculties, nor person, yet will be Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
The chronicles of my doing, let me say, The dignity of your office, is the point
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake Of my petition.
That virtue must go through. We must not stint K. Hen. Lady mine, proceed.
Our necessary actions, in the fear
By sick interpreters (once weak ones) is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft, Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up Of these exactions, yet the king our master,
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
We should take root here, where we sit, or sit
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 The clothiers all, not able to maintain
Of this commission ? I believe, not any. The many to them 'longing, have put off
We must not rend our subjects from our laws, The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? Unfit for other life, compellid by hunger
A trebling contribution! Why, we take, And lack of other means, in desperate manner From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber; Daring th' event to the teeth, are all in uproar, And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack’d, And danger serves among them.
The air will drink the sap. To every county, K. Hen.
Where this is question'd send our letters, with
The force of this commission. Pray, look to't;
I put it to your care.
Wol. A word with you. [To the Secretary. I know but of a single part, in ought
Let there be letters writ to every shire, Pertains to the state; and front but in that file Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons Where others tell steps with me.
Hardly conceive of me: let it be nois'd, Q. Kath.
No, my lord, That through our intercession this revokement You know no more than others; but you frame And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you Things, that are known, belike, which are not wholesome Farther in the proceeding.
[Exit Secretary. To those which would not know them, and yet must
Enter Surveyor. Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions, Q. Kath. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Is run in your displeasure. Most pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear them, K. Hen.
It grieves many: The back is sacrifice to the load. They say,
The gentleman is learn'd, and a inost rare speaker; They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer
To nature pone more bound; his training such, Too hard an exclamation.
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, K. Hen, Still exaction!
And never seek for aid out of himself: yet see, The nature of it? In what kind, let's know,
When these so noble benefits shall prove Is this exaction ?
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, Q. Kath. I am much too venturous
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects' grief Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, Comes through commissions, which compel from each Almost with ravish'd list’ning, could not find The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, Without delay; and the pretence for this
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces Is nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold That once were his, and is become as black mouths :
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze (This was his gentleman in trust) of him Allegiance in them : their curses now,
Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Proceed. Out of the duke of Buckingham.
Being at Greenwich, K. Hen.
Speak freely. After your highness had reprov'd the duke
I remember, Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
Of such a time : being my sworn servant, To inake the sceptre his. These very words
The duke retain'd him his.—But on : what hence? I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
If,” quoth he, “I for this had been comLord Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd
mitted, Revenge upon the cardinal.
As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd Wol.
Please your highness, note The part my father meant to act upon This dangerous conception in this point.
Th' usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbury, Not friended by his wish, to your high person Made suit to come in's presence, which if granted, His will is most malignant; and it stretches
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.”
A giant traitor! Deliver all with charity.
Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, K. Hen. Speak on.
And this man out of prison ? How grounded he his title to the crown,
God mend all ! Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee : At any time speak aught?
what say'st ? Surt,
He was brought to this Surv. After the duke his father," with “ the knife," By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, K. Hen. What was that Hopkins?
Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, Surv.
Sir, a Chartreux friar, He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenor His confessor; who fed him every minute
Was,—were he evil us’d, he would out-go With words of sovereignty.
His father, by as much as a performance K. Hen.
How know'st thou this? Does an irresolute purpose. Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France, K. Hen.
There's his period, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish To sheathe his knife in us.—He is attach'd; Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
Call him to present trial: if he may What was the speech among the Londoners
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, Concerning the French journey? I replied,
Let him not seek’t of us. By day and night, Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious, He is a daring traitor to the height. [Exeunt. To the king's danger. Presently the duke
SCENE III.-A Room in the Palace. Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, 'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord SANDS. Spoke by a holy monk; " that oft,” says he,
Cham. Is't possible, the spells of France should juggle “Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
Men into such strange mysteries? John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
New customs, To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Though they be never so ridiculous, Whom after, under the confession's seal,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke
Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English My chaplain to no creature living, but
Have got by the late voyage is but merely To me, should utter, with demure confidence
A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones, This pausingly ensu'd, -Neither the king, nor's heir, For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly, (Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive Their very noses had been counsellors To gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so. Shall govern England.
Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones : one Q. Kath. If I know you well,
would take it, You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your
office That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin, On the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heed, Or springhalt reign'd among them. You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
Death! my lord, And spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed; Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, Yes, heartily beseech you.
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.-How now! K. Hen. Let him on.
What news, sir Thomas Lovell ? Go forward.
Enter Sir Thomas LOVELL. Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
'Faith, my lord, I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions I hear of none, but the new proclamation The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangerous That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. From this to ruminate on it so far, until
What is't for? It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd, Lov. The reformation of our travell’d gallants, It was much like to do: He answered, " Tush! That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. It can do me no damage:” 'adding farther,
Cham. I am glad 'tis there : now, I would pray our That had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
monsieurs The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
They must either There's mischief in this man.—Canst thou say farther? (For so run the conditions) leave those remnants Surv. I can, my liege.
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks ;
LoveLL. Abusing better men than they can be,
The very thought of this fair company Out of a foreign wisdom; renouncing clean
Clapp'd wings to me, The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Cham. You are young, sir Harry Guildford. Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal And understand again like honest men,
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, Should find a running banquet ere they rested, They may, cum privilegio, wear away
I think, would better please 'em : by my life, The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases Lov. O! that your lordship were but now confessor Are grown so catching.
To one or two of these.
I would, I were; Will have of these trim vanities.
They should find easy penance.
Faith, how easy ? There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it, Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, A French song and a fiddle have no fellow.
you that side, I'll take the charge of this. Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they're His grace is entering.–Nay, you must not freeze; going,
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:For, sure, there's no converting of them: now, My lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking; An honest country lord, as I
Pray, sit between these ladies. A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song, Sands.
By my faith, And have an hour of hearing, and, by'r-lady, And thank your lordship.-By your leave, sweet ladies : Held current music too.
[Seats himself between ANNE BULLEn and another Lady. Cham.
Well said, lord Sands : If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
I had it from my father.
No, my lord;
Was he mad, sir?
Sands. O! very mad, exceeding mad; in love too; Cham.
Sir Thomas, But he would bite none : just as I do now, Whither were you a going?
He would kiss you twenty with a breath. [Kisses her. Lov. To the cardinal's. Cham.
Well said, my lord. Your lordship is a guest too.
So, now you are fairly seated.—Gentlemen, Cham.
O! 'tis true :
penance lies on you, if these fair ladies This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
Pass away frowning. To many lords and ladies : there will be
cure, The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
Let me alone. Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in- Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended, and deed;
takes his state. A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
Wol. Y'are welcome, my fair guests : that noble lady, His dews fall every where.
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, Cham.
No doubt, he's noble ; Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome ; He had a black mouth that said other of him. And to you all good health.
[Drinks. Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal: in Sands.
is noble : him,
Let me have such a bowl
My lord Sands, They are set here for examples.
I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours.Cham.
True, they are so; Ladies, you are not merry :-gentlemen, But few now give so great ones. My barge stays ;
Whose fault is this? Your lordship shall along.–Come, good sir Thomas, Sands.
The red wine first must rise We shall be late else ; which I would not be,
In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then, we shall have 'em For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford,
Talk us to silence. This night to be comptrollers.
You are a merry gamester,
Sands. Yes, if I make my play.
You cannot show me. LEN, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as
Sands. I told your grace, how they would talk anon. Guests, at one door ; at another door, enter Sir HENRY [Drum and Trumpets within ; Chambers discharged. GUILDFORD.
Cham. Look out there, some of you. [Exit a Servant. Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Wol.
What warlike voice, Salutes ye all: this night he dedicates
And to what end is this ?-Nay, ladies, fear not; To fair content, and you. None here, he hopes, By all the laws of war y'are privileg'd. In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
Re-enter Servant. One care abroad: he would have all as merry
Cham. How now! what is't? As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome Serv.
A noble troop of strangers, Can make good people.-0, my lord ! y'are tardy; For so they seem : they've left their barge, and landed;
I will, my
And hither make, as great ambassadors
I would surrender it. From foreign princes.
lord. Wol. Good lord chamberlain,
[Cham. whispers the Maskers, and returns. Go, give them welcome; you can speak the French Wol. What say they? tongue :
Such a one, they all confess, And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them There is, indeed; which they would have your grace Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Find out, and he will take it. Shall shine at full upon them.-Some attend him.- Wol. Let me see then. [Comes from his State.
[Exit Chamberlain attended. All arise, and By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make Tables removed.
My royal choice. You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it. K. Hen. You have found him, cardinal. [Unmasking. A good digestion to you all; and, once more, You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord : I shower a welcome on ye.--Welcome all.
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you,
cardinal, Hautboys. Enter the King, and others, as Maskers, I should judge now unhappily. habited like Shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamber
I am glad, lain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and Your grace is grown so pleasant. gracefully salute him.
My lord chamberlain, A noble company! what are their pleasures ? Pr’ythee, come hither. What fair lady's that? Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bullen's pray'd me
daughter,To tell your grace :- That, having heard by fame The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women. Of this so noble and so fair assembly
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweetheart, This night to meet here, they could do no less, I were unmannerly to take you out, Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
And not to kiss you.-[Kisses her.] A health, gentlemen! But leave their flocks, and under your fair conduct, Let it go round. Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready An hour of revels with them,
I' the privy chamber?
Yes, my lord.
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
There's fresher air, my lord, takes ANNE Bullen.
In the next chamber. K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd. O, beauty ! K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one.--Sweet Till now I never knew thee.
partner, Wol. My lord !
I must not yet forsake you.—Let's be merry :
Good my lord cardinal: I have half a dozen healths Wol.
Pray tell them thus much from me. To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure There should be one amongst them, by his person, To lead them once again ; and then let's dream More worthy this place than myself; to om, Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it. If I but knew him, with my love and duty
[Exeunt, with Trumpets.
I'll save you
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses, which the duke desir'd
To have brought, vivá voce, to his face : 1 Gent. Whither away so fast?
At which appeared against him, his surveyor; 2 Gent.
0!-God save you. Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car, E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, Of the great duke of Buckingham.
Hopkins, that made this mischief. 1 Gent.
That was he, That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony That fed him with his prophecies ? Of bringing back the prisoner.
The same. 2 Gent.
Were you there? All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain 1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: 2 Gent.
Pray, speak what has happen'd. And so his peers, upon this evidence, 1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much 2 Gent.
Is he found guilty ? He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all 1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it. Was either pitied in him, or forgotten. 2 Gent. I am sorry for’t.
2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself? 1 Gent.
So are a number more. 1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, to 2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
hear 1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirred Came to the bar; where, to his accusations
With such an agony, he sweat extremely, He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty : Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly The king's attorney, on the contrary,
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.