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.

Nor.

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!

K. Hen.

Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold
mouths :

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.

K. Hen.

This is against our pleasure.
Wol.

By my life,

And for me,

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 stint3
Our necessary actions, in the fear

To cope malicious censurers; which ever,
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
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 ;6 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.

K. Hen.

Things done well, 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 then 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; Please you, sir, put it to your care. I know but of a single part, in aught Wol. A word with you. Pertains to the state; and front but in that filel [To the Secretary. Where others tell steps with me. Let there be letters writ to every shire, Q. Kath. No, my lord, Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd You know no more than others: but you frame Things, that are known alike; which are not whole-Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,

Wherein? and what taxation?-My lord cardinal,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?

Wol.

some

commons

That, through our intercession, this revokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary.
Enter Surveyor.

Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Bucking-
ham
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 complete,

(4) Encounter. (5) Sometime. (6) Approved.
(7) Beyond.

Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous 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.

Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate
what you,

Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham.

Speak freely.

K. Hen.
Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, That if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry 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.

Wol.

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.

Q. Kath.

Deliver all with charity.

K. Hen.

My learn'd lord cardinal,

Speak on:

How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?

Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
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,
The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.
K. Hen.

Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!
There's mischief in this man :-Canst thou say fur

As to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon

The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which, if
granied,

As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.
K. Hen.
Wol. Now, madam, may
freedom,

A giant traitor! his highness live in

Surv. He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. K. Hen. What was that Hopkins? Surv. 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?

K. Hen.
How know'st thou this?
Surv. Not long before your highness sped to

France,

The duke being at the Rose,2 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

heirs,

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 fit3 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,
(3) Grimace.

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this: His grace is ent'ring.-Nay, you must not freeze; Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:plain-My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking; Pray, sit between these ladies.

You are a merry gamester,

Yes, if I make my play.

1

My lord Sands.
Sands.
Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing,-

Anne.
You cannot show me.
Sands. I told your grace, they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpets within: chambers2
discharged.
Wol.
What's that?
Cham. Look out there, some of you.
[Exit a Servant.
Wol.
What warlike voice?
And to what end is this?-Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you are privileg❜d.

tongue;

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.-
[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.
Hautboys. Enter the King, and twelve others, as
maskers, habited like Shepherds, with sixteen
Torch-bearers; ushered by the Lord Chamber-
lain. They pass directly before the Cardinal,
and gracefully salute him.

A noble company! what are their pleasures?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they
pray'd

To tell your grace;-That, having heard by fame
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 con-
duct,

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

Wol.
Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace; for which

I

pay them

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.-Sweet-
heart,

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.

Wol.

Yes, my lord.

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

In the next chamber.

Your grace,

There's fresher air, my lord,

SCENE I-A street. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast? 2 Gent. 0,-God save you! Even to the hall, to hear what shall become Of the great duke of Buckingham.

1 Gent.

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

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-Of bringing back the prisoner.

sures. 1

[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King

chooses Anne Bullen.

(1) Choose my game.

(2) Small cannon.

(3) The chief place.
(5) Dance.

(4) Mischievously.

VOL. II.

2 F

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

2 Gent.

That fed him with his prophecies? 1 Gent.

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-

•ness,

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 Chris-
tians :

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,

me,

Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
Court,More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,

That was he,

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 does not.
He never was so womanish: the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2 Gent.

The cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gent.

Certainly,

'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.

Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent.

That trick of state,

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

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;
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.

They love and dote on; call him, bounteous Buck-My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

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; Tipstaves 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.

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!
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
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: