604

Cham. Well said, my lord.So, now you are fairly seated :-Gentlemen, The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cure,

Let me alone.

BERLAIN. They pass directly before the Car dinal, and gracefully salute him.

A noble company! what are their pleasures
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus
they pray'd
[fame
To tell your grace;-That, having heard by
Of this so noble and so fair assembly
This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks; and, under your fair
conduct,

Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.
Wol. Say, lord chamberlain,

and takes his state.*

Sands. Yes, if I make my play.+

which I pay them

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their

pleasures.

[Ladies chosen for the dance. chooses ANNE BULLEN.

The KING

K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! 0,

grace

For 'tis to such a thing,

Anne. You cannot show me.

Sands. 1 told your grace, they would talk

Re-enter SERVANT.

Cham. How now? what is't?

Serv. A noble troop of strangers;

For so they seem: they have left their barge, and landed;

And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.

Wol. Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give them welcome, you can speak the French tongue; [them,

And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them :-Some attend him.

[Exit CHAMBERLAIN, attended. All arise, and Tables removed.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll

Wol. Let me see then.

[Comes from his state. By all your good leaves, gentlemen ;—Here I'll make

1 fear, with dancing is a little heated. K. Hen. I fear, too much.

Wol. There's fresher air, my lord,

In the next chamber.

[ready

K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one.Sweet partner,

I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be mer» ry;

Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths

That labour, Sir. All's now done, but the ceremony

Of bringing back the prisoner.

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.

7 Gent. So are a number more.

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

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 alleg'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 him brought, vivâ voce, to his face:

At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John
Court,

Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gent. That was he,

That fed him with his prophecies? 1 Gent. The same.

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 him

self?

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,-to hear [stirr'd His knell wrung out, his judgement, he was 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. 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, Then deputy of Ireland; who remov❜d,

Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father.

2 Gent. That trick of state

Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent. At his return,

No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,

* Dance.

And generally; whoever the king favours, The cardinal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too.

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 Buckingham,

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; Tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge towards him; halberts on each side: with him, Sir THOMAS 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, [me.
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgement,
And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear
witness,

And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not 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
Christians:

men;

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
[them.
For then my guiltless blood must cry against
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,
And lift my soul to heaven.-Lead on, o'God's

name.

| Lov. 1 do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart [ly. Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankBuck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive As I would be forgiven: I forgive all; [you, There cannot be those numberless offences 'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy [grace; Shall make my grave.-Commend me to his And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him, [prayers

You met him half in heaven: my vows and 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

4

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! [me,
Heaven has an end in all: yet you that hear
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves, and
counsels,
[friends,
Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make
And give your hearts to, when they once per-
ceive

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,

[hour Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell: [sad, And when you would say something that is Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive me!

[Exeunt 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! [Sir? Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill reA strong faith* to conceal it.

1 Gent. Let me have it;

I do not talk much.

2 Gent. I am confident;

[quire

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.

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 chesen, 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. not before the king: which stopped our mouths, -His master would be served before u subject, įj

Sir.

Turns what he lists. The king will know him one day.

Suf. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself else.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business!

And with what zeal! For now he has crack'd the league

A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent. Yes, but it held not: Foren 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 Get. 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

* Great fidelity,

These news are every where; every tongue speaks them,

And every true heart weeps for't: All, that dare

Look into these affairs, see this main end,The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open

The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

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

And heartily, for our deliverance;

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

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, If the king please; his curses and his blessings [in. Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe 1 knew him, and I know him; so I leave him To him, that made him proud, the pope. Nor. Let's in;

And, with some other business, put the king From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:

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

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

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord CHAMBERLAIN.

NORFOLK opens a folding-door. The KING is discovered sitting, and reading pensively. Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.

K. Hen. Who is there? ha?

Nor. 'Pray God, he be not angry.

Nor. This priest has no priae in him?) Suf. Not to speak of;

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

But this cannot continue.
Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him,
Suf. I another.

Aside.

[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks, I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms, [judgement, Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius; [ness. Whom, once more, I present unto your highK. Hen. 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 wish'd for.

Cum. Your grace must needs deserve all stranger's loves,

You are so noble: To your highness' hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue, (The court of Rome commanding,)—you, my

lord

Into

thrust yourselves

my private meditations?

Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offen

ces

Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this

Of private conference.

K. Hen. We are busy; go.

K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have;

and my favour

nal, Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secreTo him that does best; God forbid else. (. diI find him a fit fellow. tary;

[Exit WOLZES

* High or low.

So sick as he is proud.

Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd That he ran mad, and died.

[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,

If I command him, follows my appointment; I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,

We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. K. Hen. 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 busi

ness:-

My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, con-
science,-

O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-An Ante-chumber in the QUEEN'S

Apartments.

Enter ANNE BULLEN, and an old LADY. Anne. Not for that neither ;—Here's the pang that pinches : [she His highness having liv'd so long with her: and So good a lady, that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life, She never knew harm-doing:-0 now, after 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 proTo give her the avaunt! † it is a pity [cess,

Would move a monster.

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

Anne. O, God's will! much better, [poral, She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temYet, if that quarrelt, fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soul and body's severing.

Old L. Alas, poor lady! She's a 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

Is our best having. |

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

[you,

Old L. Beshrew me, I would, And venture maidenhead for't; and so would 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; [gifts Which, to say sooth,¶ are blessings: and which (Saving your mincing) the capacity [ceive, Of your soft cheveril** conscience would reIf you might please to stretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth,

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.

Old L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'd would hire me,

Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you What think you of a duchess? have you ambs To bear that load of title?

Anne. No, in truth.

Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a little;

I 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!

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

Old L. In faith, for little England You'd venture an einballing: I myself Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd [here? No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes

Enter the Lord CHAMBERLAIN.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wert worth to know

The secret of your conference?
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Anne. My good lord,
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becom

ing

The action of good women: there is hope,
All will be well.

Anne. Now I pray God, amen!

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heav

enly blessings (lady, Follow such creatures. That you may, fair Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's 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 A thousand pound a year, annual support, Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title 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 obe

dience,

As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for.
Cham. Lady,

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit.t
The king have of you.-I have perus'd her
well;
[Aside
That they have caught the king: and who
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,
But from this lady may proceed a gem,
knows yet,
And say, I spoke with you.
To lighten all this isle?--I'll to the king,

Anne. My honour'd lord.

[Exit Lord CHAMBERLAIN Old L. Why, this it is; see, see!

I have been begging sixteen years in court

not be a queen?

No longer an Englishwoman. **Kid-skin.

Truth.