Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story, That Bevis was believ'd. Buck. O, you go far. Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In honour honesty, the tract of every thing Would by a good discourser lose some life, Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal; To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, Order gave each thing view; the office did Distinctly his full function. Buck. Who did guide, I mean, who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess? Buck. I pray you, who, my lord? Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend cardinal of York. Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is free'd From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the rays o'the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth. Nor. Surely, sir, There's in him stuff, that puts him to these ends: A gift, that heaven gives for him, which buys Aber. I cannot tell What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye Pierce into that; but I can see his pride Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that? If not from hell, the devil is a niggard; Or has given all before, and he begins Buck. Why the devil, Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, Must fetch him in he papers. Aber. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have Buck. O, many Have broke their backs with laying manors on them A most poor issue? Nor. Grievingly I think, The peace between the French and us not values Buck. Every man, After the hideous storm that follow'd, was Nor. Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. Aber. Is it therefore The ambassador is silenc'd? Nor. Marry, is't. Aber. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd At a superfluous rate! Buck. Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried. Nor. Like it your grace, The state takes notice of the private difference What his high hatred would effect, wants not A minister in his power: You know his nature, You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock, Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, (the Purse borne before him,) 1 Secr. Here, so please you. Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham Nor. What, are you chaf'd? A beggar's book Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only, Which your disease requires. Buck. I read in his looks Matter against me; and his eyes revil'd Me, as his abject object: at this instant He bores me with some trick: He's gone to the king; I'll follow, and out-stare him. Nor. Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question A full-hot horse; who being allow'd his way, Buck. I'll to the king; And from a mouth of honour quite cry down Nor. Be advis'd; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot, I say again, there is no English soul More stronger to direct you than yourself, If with the sap of reason you would quench, Buck. Sir, I am thankful to you; and I'll go along By your prescription:-but this top-proud fellow, (Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions,) by intelligence, And proofs as clear as founts in July, when We see each grain of gravel, I do know Nor. Say not, treasonous. Buck. To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong |