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Are grown so catching.
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
They must either
(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 thereunto (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-I
Ay, marry, There will be wo indeed, lords; the sly whore
(1) A disease incident to horses. (2) A palace at Paris.
They are set here for examples.
True, they are so;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;4
|| 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.
Cham. Well said, lord Sands; Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. Sands. No, my lord; Nor shall not, while I have a stump. Cham.
Whither were you a going?
Lov. To the cardinal's; Your lordship is a guest too. Cham.
O, 'tis true:
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
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.
No doubt, he's noble ;
He had a black mouth, that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal;
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: Men of his way should be most liberal,
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,5 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,
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!
I would I were;
They should find easy penance.
'Faith, how easy?
Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir
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:My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking; Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands. By my faith, And thank your lordship.-By your leave, sweet ladies :
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me ;
Sir Thomas,I had it from my father.
[Seats himself between Anne Bullen and another lady.
Anne. Was he mad, sir? Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad; in love too: But he would bite none; just as I do now, He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
[Kisses her. Well said, my lord.So, now you are fairly seated:-Gentlemen, The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies Pass away frowning.
For my little cure,
Sands. Let me alone. Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended; and takes his state.6
Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests; that noble lady,
(4) The speaker is at Bridewell, and the cardinal's house was at Whitehall. (5) Company. (6) Chair.
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend: This, to confirm my welcome;
And to you all good health.
Your grace is noble ;-
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.
My lord Sands,
I am beholden to you: cheer your neighbours.--
Ladies, you are not inerry ;-Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have
Talk us to silence.
My lord Sands.
You are a merry gamester,
Yes, if I make my play.1
Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing,-
You cannot show me.
Sands. I told your grace, they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpets within: chambers2
Cham. Look out there, some of you.
[Exit a Servant.
What warlike voice?
And to what end is this?-Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you are privileg'd.
Cham. How now? what is't?
A noble troop of strangers:
For so they seem: they have left their barge, and
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.
Good lord chamberlain,
Go, give them welcome; you can speak the French
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.
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-
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.
Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace; for which
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-
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?
Yes, my lord.
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
K. Hen. I fear, too much.
In the next chamber.
K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one.-Sweet
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-To lead them once again; and then let's dream
lain. They pass directly before the Cardinal,
and gracefully salute him.
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry ;-
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measures
Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt, with trumpets.
I will, my lord.
[Cham. goes to the company, and returns.
Wol. What say they?
Such a one, they all confess,
There is, indeed; which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it 3
Let me see then.[Comes from his state. By all your good leaves, gentlemen;-Here I'll
My royal choice.
You have found him, cardinal:
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.4
I am glad,
Your grace is grown so pleasant.
My lord chamberlain,
Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that?
Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bul-
The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women.
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-Sweet-
There's fresher air, my lord,
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.
That was he,
That fed him with his prophecies?
All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could
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.
Sure, he does not.
He never was so womanish: the cause
He may a little grieve at.
The cardinal is the end of this. 1 Gent.
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies Court,More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd
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.
That trick of state,
Was a deep envious one.
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.
The mirror of all courtesy ;
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
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.
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-
2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him. Buck. All good people, You that thus far have come to pity 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 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 make1 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
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.
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
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
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,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Restor'd Ime to my honours, and out of ruins,
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
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.
And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive
[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.
If the duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of wo: yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
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.
Let me have it;
I do not talk much.
I am confident;
You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing, of a separation
Between the king and Katharine?
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.
But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now: for
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.
He will have all, I think.
Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
Well met, my good
Good day to both your graces.
Suff. How is the king employ'd?
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
What's the cause?
Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's
Has crept too near his conscience.
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
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
Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself
1 Gent. "Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his asking, The archbishopric 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.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.
SCENE II-An ante-chamber in the palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter.
Nor. How holily he works in all his business! 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 mar-
And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
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?
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis
These news are every where; every tongue speaks
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.
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 pitch2 he please.
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.
Let's in ;
Cham. My lord,-The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, rid-And, with some other business, put the king den, and furnished. They were young, and hand-From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon When some; and of the best breed in the north. they were ready to set out for London, a man of My lord, you'll bear us company? my lord cardinal's, by commission, and main Cham. power, took 'em from me; with this reason,-His The king hath sent me other-where: Besides, master would be served before a subject, if not be-You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: fore the king: which stopped our mouths, sir. Health to your lordships.
I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them:
Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit Lord Chamberlain. (2) High or low.
(1) Great fidelity.
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
But this cannot continue.
If it do,
I'll venture one heave at him.
We are busy; go.
[To Norfolk and Suffolk.
Nor. This priest has no pride in him?"
Not to speak of;
I would not be so sick though, for his
[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 judg-
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
And thank the holy conclave for their loves;
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd
(1) So sick as he is proud.
(2) Out of the king's presence.
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves,
You are so noble: to your highness' hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,
(The court of Rome commanding,)—you, my lord
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
Forthwith, for what you come :-Where's Gardiner?
Wol. I know, your majesty has always lov'd her
K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shail have; and my favour
I find him a fit fellow.
To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour
You are the king's now.
For ever by your grace,
But to be commanded whose hand has rais'd me. [Aside.
K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
[They converse apart,
Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace
In this man's place before him?
Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
Even of yourself, lord cardinal.
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 man2 still; which so griev'd him,
That he ran mad, and died.
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 iny 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.
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-
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exe.
SCENE III.-An ante-chamber in the Queen's
apartments. Enter Anne Bullen, and an old
Anne. Not for that neither;-Here's the pang
that pinches :
His highness having liv'd so long with her and she
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her,-by my life,
She never knew harm-doing;-Ŏ
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 3 it is a pity
Would move a monster.
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
O, God's will! much better.
She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal,
Yet, if that quarrel,4 fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soul and body's severing.
(3) A sentence of ejection.