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

I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry;

Sweetheart,

I were unmannerly, to take you out,

And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen,

Let it go round.

To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead them once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt, with trumpets.

mony

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.

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, 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 himself?

1 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:
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 doth 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, Kildair'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, 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 nuch 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; Tip-
staves before him; the axe with the edge to-
wards 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,
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;
It has done, upon the premises, but justice:
But those, that sought it, I could wish more
christians:

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 men ;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against
them.

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. I do deseech 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; There cannot be those numberless offences '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.

Vaux. Prepare there,

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

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!
Heaven has an end in all. Yet you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels,
Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make
friends,

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
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,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last

hour

Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad,
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! Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir ?

2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gent. Let me have it;

I do not talk much.

2 Gent. I am confident;

You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent. Yes, but it held not:

For when 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 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 cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possess'd him with a 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 chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. 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,-His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king: which stopped our mouths, sir.

Cham. Good day to both your graces. Suf. How is the king employ'd? Cham. I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Nor. What's the cause?

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

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew,

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage:
And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce: a loss of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre :
Of her, that loves him with that excellence,
That angels love good men with; even of her,
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king: And is not this course pious?
Chum. Heaven keep me from such counsel!
'Tis most true,

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
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I 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.

ther's wife

Has crept too near his conscience.

Suf. No, his conscience

Has crept too near another lady.

Nor. 'Tis so;

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal: That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, 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!

covered 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.

K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations? Who am I? ha?

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences, Malice ne'er meant; our breach of duty, this way,

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, Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judgment,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius;
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness.
K. 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.

Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,

You are so noble: To your highness' hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,

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.

Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant,

In the unpartial judging of this business.

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

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

Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life,
She never knew harm-doing;-O 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 process,
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

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

Anne. O, God's will! much better, She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,

Yet, if that quarrel, 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.

Old L. 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

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

Anne. Nay, good troth,

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit The king hath of you.-I have perus'd her well. [Aside. Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, That they have caught the king: and who knows yet,

But from this lady may proceed a gem,

not be a queen?

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 do you 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 emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes
here?

And say, I spoke with you.
Anne. My honour'd lord.

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

I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds: and you, (0 fate!)
A very fresh-fish here, (fye, fye upon
This compell'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd

up, Before you open it.

Anne. This is strange to me.

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.

There was a lady once, (tis an old story,)
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt :-Have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
Old L. With your theme, I could
O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pem-
broke!