SCENE IV.]

You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Wol.

I am glad

Your grace is grown so pleasant.
K. Hen.

KING HENRY VIII.

581

First 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.
He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
Was either pitied in him or forgotten.

Second Gent. After all this how did he bear
himself?

30

First Gent. When he was brought again to the
bar, 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 :
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
Second Gent. I do not think he fears death.
Sure, he does not;
First Gent.
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
Certainly,
Second Gent.
The cardinal is the end of this.
First Gent.

'Tis likely,

By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,
Lest he should help his father.
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Second Gent.

That trick of state

My lord chamberlain, 90
What fair lady's that?
Prithee, come hither.
Cham. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas
Bullen'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.

Your grace,
100
I 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

partner,

Let's be merry:
I must not yet forsake you.
Good my lord cardinal, I have half-a-dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
Exeunt, with trumpets.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Westminster. A Street.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

First Gent. Whither away so fast?
Second Gent.

O! God save ye.
E'en to the hall. to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
First Gent.

I'll save you
That labour,sir. All's now done but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.

First Gent.
Was a deep envious one.

Much

Second Gent.

Were you there?
First Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
Second Gent. Pray speak what has happen'd.
First Gent. You may guess quickly what.
Is he found guilty?
Second Gent.
First Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd

upon 't.

Second Gent. I am sorry for 't.
So are a number more.
First Gent.
Second Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
First Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great
duke

10

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 have brought, vivâ voce, to his face:
At which appear'd against him his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
Second Gent.
That fed him with his prophecies ?

21

At his return

This is noted,

No doubt he will requite it.
And generally, whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,

And far enough from court too.

Second Gent.

49

All the commons Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, 50 Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham,

The mirror of all courtesy ;

Stay there, sir,
First Gent.
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: accompanied with
Sir THOMAS LOVELL, Sir NICHOLAS VAUX,
Sir WALTER SANDS, and common people.

Second Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
All good people,
Buck.
You that thus far have come to pity me,
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
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,
'T has done upon the premisses but justice;
But those that sought it I could wish more
Christians:

60

Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em.
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
You few that
That was he More than I dare make faults.

lov'd me,

71

Buck.
Nay, Sir Nicholas, 100
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 Or some about him near, have, out of malice
seal it ;
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
And with that blood will make them one day That will undo her to confirm this too,
groan for 't.
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.

First Gent.

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, 110
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

Let me have it;

I am confident:

I do not talk much.
Second Gent.
You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine ?
First Gent.
Yes, but it held not;
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor straight 151
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

Second Gent.
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 car-

dinal,

160

"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. Second 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.
First Gent.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

"Tis woeful.

Exeunt.

SCENE II. An Antechamber 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 chosen, 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 car dinal's, by commission and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason: His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir.

I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them: You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: 0
He will have all, I think.
Health to your lordships.
Nor.

11

No; his conscience Who am I? ha?

Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant, | "Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process
In the unpartial judging of this business.
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.
Old Lady.

K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be
acquainted

Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
Anne.

Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
Wol. I know your majesty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.

110

O! God's will; much better
She ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old Lady.

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

Alas! poor lady,

She's a stranger now again.
Anne.

So much the more

To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary :
I find him a fit fellow.
Exit WOLSEY.

Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER,
Wol. Aside to GARDINER. Give me your hand;
much joy and favour to you:
You are the king's now.

Gard. Aside to WOLSEY. But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
120
They converse apart.
Cam. My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace
In this man's place before him?

Wol.
Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Wol.
Yes, surely.
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
then

Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol.

How! of me? Cam. They will not stick to say you envied him, And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him, That he ran mad and died.

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 business.
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.

140

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.

Our content

10

20

Old Lady.

Is our best having.
Anne.

By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
Old Lady.
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you,
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:
Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity

31

Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne.

Nay, good troth. Old Lady. Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old Lady. '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 limbs
To bear that load of title?

Anne.

No, in truth. Old Lady. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little :

40

Anne.

How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

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.

Old Lady.

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

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies.
worth to know
The secret of your conference ?
Anne.

My good lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

What were 't

50

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
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 heavenly blessings