A noise within, crying Room for the Queen. En- Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold ter the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk: she kneels. The King riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him.
Q. Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.
K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us :-Half your suit
Never name to us; you have half our power: The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; Repeat your will, and take it.
That you would love yourself; and, in that love, Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor The dignity of your office, is the point
Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance: there have been missions
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them; their curses now, Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass, That tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will. I would, your highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer business.
By my life, This is against our pleasure. Wol.
I have no farther gone in this, than by A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but By learned approbation of the judges.
If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know My faculties, nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing,-let me say, 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake? That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear
com-To cope malicious censurers; which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the heart Of all their loyalties:wherein, although, My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master (Whose honour Heaven shield from soil!) even he escapes not
Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty, and almost appears In loud rebellion.
Not almost appears, It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them 'longing, have put off The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, And Danger serves among them. Taxation!
That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still, In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, We should take root here where we sit, or sit State statues only.
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any. We must not rend our subjects from our laws, And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take, From every tree, lop, bark, and part o'the timber; And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, The air will drink the sap. To every county, Where this is question'd, send our letters, with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission: Pray, look to't; I put it to your case. Wol. A word with you.
[To the Secretary. Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd
Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd, That, through our intercession, this revokement And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary.
Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.
K. Hen. It grieves many : The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker, To nature none more bound; his training such, 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
Not well-dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so cómplete,
Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, | Go forward. Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, Hath into moustrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear (This was his gentleman in trust,) of him Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount The fore-recited practices; whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang'rous for him,
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd, It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush! It can do me no damage: adding further, That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the duke of Buckingham.
Speak freely. Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day It would infect his speech, That if the king Should without issue die, he'd carry1 it so To make the sceptre his: These very words I have heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd Revenge upon the cardinal.
Please your highness, note This dangerous conception in this point. Not friended by his wish, to your high person His will is most malignant; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends.
Deliver all with charity. K. Hen.
My learn'd lord cardinal,
How grounded he his title to the crown, Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? Surv.
He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. K. Hen. What was that Hopkins? Surv.
Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha! There's mischief in this man:-Canst thou say fur
Sir, a Chartreux friar, And this man out of prison? His confessor; who fed him every minute Q. Kath. God mend all!. With words of sovereignty. K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee; What say'st!
How know'st thou this? Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech amongst the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I replied, Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, To the king's danger. Presently the duke Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, "Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk; That oft, says he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment: Whom after under the confession's seal He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke, My chaplain to no creature living, but To me, should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensu❜d,--Neither the king, nor his
(Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive To gain the love of the commonally; the duke Shall govern England.
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'the tenants: Take good heed, You charge not in your spleen a noble person, And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you.
(1) Conduct, manage. (2) Now Merchant-Taylor's School.
Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage, is but merely A fit or two of the face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold them, you would swear directly, Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it,
That never saw them pace before, the spavin,
Lov. (For so run the conditions) leave these remnants Of fool, and feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance, Pertaining thereto (as fights, and fireworks; Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men; Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, They may, cum privilegio,3 wear away The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. Sands. 'Tis time to give them physic, their dis-
Your lordship is a guest too. Cham. This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall every where.
They are set here for examples. Cham.
True, they are so; But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; Your lordship shall along:-Come,good sir Thomas, We shall be late else: which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford, This night, to be comptrollers.
I am your lordship's. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The presence chamber in Yorkplace. Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Enter at one door, Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as guests; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford.
Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy, has brought with her One care abroad; he would have all as merry As first-good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.-O, my lord, you are tardy; Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell.
The very thought of this fair company Clapp'd wings to me.
Cham. You are young, sir Harry Guildford. Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they rested, I think, would better please them: By my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Lov. O, that your lordship were but now confessor To one or two of these! Sands.
I would I were; They should find easy penance.
Lov. 'Faith, how easy? Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it. Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir
No doubt, he's noble; Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended;
He had a black mouth, that said other of him. Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal;| in him,
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: Men of his way should be most liberal,
(1) A disease incident to horses.
(2) A palace at Paris. (3) With authority.
And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them:-Some attend him.-I [Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise, and tables removed.
You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it. A good digestion to you all: and, once more, I shower a welcome on you ;-Welcome all.
[Cham. goes to the company, and returns. Wol. What say they? Cham.
Such a one, they all confess, There is, indeed; which they would have your grace Find out, and he will take it." Wol.
Let me see then.[Comes from his state. By all your good leaves, gentlemen;-Here I'll make My royal choice. K. Hen.
You have found him, cardinal: [Unmasking. You hold a fair assembly; you do well, my lord: You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, I should judge now unhappily.* Wol.
Your grace is grown so pleasant. K. Hen. My lord chamberlain, Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that? Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bul- len's daughter,
The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women. K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly, to take you out, And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen, Let it go round.
Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready I'the privy chamber?
Lov. Yes, my lord. Wol. fear, with dancing is a little heated. K. Hen. I fear, too much. Wol.
In the next chamber.
There's fresher air, my lord,
K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one.-Sweet
I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry ;Hautboys. Enter the King, and twelve others, as Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths maskers, habited like Shepherds, with sixteen To drink to these fair ladies, and a measures Torch-bearers; ushered by the Lord Chamber- To lead them once again: and then let's dream They pass directly before the Cardinal, Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it. and gracefully salute him.
Pray, speak, what has happen'd? | Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die; Yet, heaven bear wit-
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. 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, viva 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.
That fed him with his prophecies ? 1 Gent.
The same. All these accused 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.
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. I do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself? 1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,-There cannot be those numberless offences to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment,—he was stirr'd 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.
He never was so womanish: the cause He may a little grieve at.
The cardinal is the end of this.
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,
1 Genl. At his return, No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted, 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 Buck- ingham.
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; Tip staves before him, the axe with the edge towards him; halberds 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, (1) Close.
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with no black envy Shall make my grave.-Commend me to his grace; And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him, You met him half in heaven: My vows and 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!
Lov. To the water-side I must conduct your grace;
Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux, Who undertakes you to your end.
The duke is coming see, the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture, as suits The greatness of his person.
Buck. Nay, sir 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:
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 mo 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:
« PreviousContinue » |