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I am sorry
NE Th RE
I'll follow, and out-stare him.
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the cardinal
Stay, my lord, Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
To hear this of him; and could wish he were
Something mistaken in't.
No, not a syllable:
I do pronounce him in that very shape,
He shall appear in proof.
I'll to the king; Enter BRANDON; a Sergeant at Arms before him, and
two or three of the Guard.
Bran. Your office, sergeant; execute it.
Be advis'd; My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl
of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.
Lo, you, my lord !
I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
You shall to the Tower.
It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence; for that die is on me,
Be done in this and all things.- I obey.-
0! my lord Abergan'y, fare you well.
Bran. Nay, he must bear you company.—The king
Say not, treasonous. Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know
As the duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
By me obey'a.
Bran. Here is a warrant from
The king t’ attach lord Montacute ; and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,--
These are the limbs o' the plot.-No more, I hope.
0! Nicholas Hopkins?
Hath show'd him gold. My life is spann'd already:
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,
By darkening my clear sun.-My lord, farewell
SCENE II.-The Council-Chamber.
Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal's
shoulder; Wolsey, the Lords of the Council, Sir
Thomas Lovell, Officers, Secretary.
K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of it,
for this great care.
Of a full charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.
The King takes his State. The Lords of the Council
occupy their several Places: the Cardinal places him-
A Noise within, crying Room for the Queen! Enter
the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of Norfolk and
I stood i' the level
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
To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
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, Whose honour heaven shield from soil ! even he escapes In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here, where we sit, or sit Language unmannerly; yea, such which breaks
State statues only. The ties of loyalty, and almost appears
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, compelld 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,
Hardly conceive of me: let it be nois'd,
No, my lord, That through our intercession this revokement
[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.
The gentleman is learn'd, and a inost rare speaker; They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer
To nature none more bound; his training such, Too hard an exclamation.
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 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 enrollid '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
Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what Would give it quick consideration, for
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Proceed. Out of the duke of Buckingham.
Being at Greenwich,
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,
Surv. “ 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!
Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
And this man out of prison ?
God mend all !
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,
Let him not seek't of us. By day and night,
SCENE III.-A Room in the Palace.
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
A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones,
Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones: one
If I know
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,
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.-How now!
What news, sir Thomas Lovell ?
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
Cham. I am glad 'tis there : now,
monsieurs The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
To think an English courtier
be wise, Should have gone off.
And never see the Louvre.
Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha! Lov.
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
'Faith, my lord,
What is't for?
They must either
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Tuomas 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.
Place 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 am, beaten
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,
O! 'tis true :
The 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
little 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
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,
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.
Your grace 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;
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;
KING HENRY VIII.
And hither make, as great ambassadors
I would surrender it.
I will, my lord.
[Cham. whispers the Maskers, and returns.
Such a one, they all confess,
Let me see then. [Comes from his State.
My royal choice.
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I am glad,
My lord chamberlain,
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweetheart,
And not to kiss you.—[ Kisses her.] A health, gentlemen!
Wol. Sir Thomas Lorell, is the banquet ready
I' the privy chamber?
Yes, my lord.
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
There's fresher air, my lord,
In the next chamber.
I must not yet forsake you.—Let's be merry :
lord cardinal: I have half a dozen healths
Pray tell them thus much from me. To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
[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,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
That was he,
The same. 2 Gent.
All these accus’d him strongly; which he fain
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
Is he found guilty? He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all
2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?
So are a number more. 1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, to 2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirred
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.