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Cham. How now? what is't?

A noble troop of strangers: For so they seem: they have left their barge, and landed;

And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.


Good lord chamberlain, Go, give them welcome; you can speak the French 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 ail: and, once more,
I shower a welcome on you;-Welcome all.

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.

K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O,

Till now I never knew thee.
Wol. My lord,-

[Music. Dance.


sures. 1

[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King
chooses Anne Bullen.

Your grace?

Wol. Pray, tell them thus much from me :
There should be one amongst them, by his person,
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.


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

I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry ;-
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measures

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.

Who's best in favour.-Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt, with trumpets.

(1) Choose my game. (2) Small cannon.


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

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Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace; for which
I pay them
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea-||Of

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 bringing back the prisoner. 2 Gent.

Were you there?

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.

Your grace,

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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 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


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.

Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies Court,More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd

'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.

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.


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

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.

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-


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,


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
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

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 :

'Tis so;


A most unnatural and faithless service!

He will have all, I think. Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me,

Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. This from a dying man receive as certain :

Nor. Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels,

Well met, my good

Lord chamberlain. Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make

Cham. friends,

Good day to both your graces. And give your hearts to, when they once perceive

Suff. How is the king employ'd ? The least rub in your fortunes, fall away


'I left him private, Like water from ye, never found again

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

What's the cause ?
But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour,

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's

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

Has crept too near his conscience. And when you would say something that is sad,


No, his conscience Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive

Has crept too near another lady.

Nor. [Exeunt Buckingham and train. 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity Sir, it calls,

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : I fear, too many curses on their heads,

That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, That were the authors.

Turns what he lists. The king will know him one 2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless,

day. 'Tis full of wo: yet I can give you inkling

Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself

else. Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business ! 1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! And with what zeal ! For, now he has crack'd the Where

league may

it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great A strong faith1 to conceal it.

nephew, 1 Gent.

Let me have it;

He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters I do not talk much.

Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, 2 Gent. I am confident;

Fears, and despairs, and all these for bis mar. You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear

riage: A buzzing, of a separation

And, out of all these to restore the king,

He counsels a divorce; a loss of her, Between the king and Katharine?

That, like a jewel, bas hung twenty years 1 Gent.

Yes, but it held not ;

About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight

Of her, that loves him with that excellence
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues

That angels love good men with ; even of her That durst disperse it.

That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,

Will bless the king : And is not this course pious ? 2 Gent.

But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now : for it grows again

Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis

most true, Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain,

These news are every where; erery tongue speaks The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,

them, Or some about him near, have, out of malice To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple

And every true heart weeps fort: All, that dare That will undo her: To confirm this too,

Look into these affairs, see this main end,

The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;

The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon As all think, for this business.

This bold bad man. 1 Gent.

'Tis the cardinal;


And free us from his slavery. And merely to revenge him on the emperor,

Nor. We had need pray,
For not bestowing on bim, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos’d.

And heartily, for our deliverance;
2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is’t Or this imperious man will work us all
not cruel,

From princes into pages : all men's honours That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal | Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd

Into what pitch2 he please.
Will have his will, and she must fall.
1 Gent.

'Tis woful.

For me, my lords, We are too open here to argue this;

I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed : Let's think in private more.


As I am made without him, so I'll stand,

If the king please ; his curses and his blessings SCENE II.-An ante-chamber in the palace. Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. I knew him, and I know him ; so I leave him

To him, that made him proud, the pope. Cham. My lord,—The horses your lordship sent Nor.

Let's in ; for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, rid.||And, with some other business, put the king, dlen, and furnished. They were young, and hand- From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon some; and of the best breed in the north. When

him :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.

Excuse me; 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.

Nor. I fear, he will, indeed : Well, let him have them :)

Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

Exit Lord Chamberlain, (1) Great fidelity.

(2) High or low.

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Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way, Is business of estate; in which, we come

To know your royal pleasure.


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

dis-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.
K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shail have; and my

K. Hen.
You are too bold:
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?-

K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
[They converse apart,
Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace

Enter Wols and Campeius.


The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome,
[To Campeius.
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;
us, and it--My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
[To Wolsey.
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
K. Hen.

Who's there? my good lord cardinal?-O my In this man's place before him?
Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Yes, surely.
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 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 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.
The most convenient place that I can think of,
[Exit Gardiner.
For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business:→→→
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.-O
Would it not grieve an able man, to leave
my lord,
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;-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 3 it is a pity
Would move a monster.


I another.
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.
Wol. Yourgrace 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


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

(1) So sick as he is proud.
(2) Out of the king's presence.

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

I find him a fit fellow.

To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary;
[Exit Wolsey.
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour

to you;

You are the king's now.

For ever by your grace,

But to be commanded whose hand has rais'd me. [Aside.

Old L.

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.

Old L.

Alas, poor lady!

(3) A sentence of ejection.

(4) Quarreller,

She's a stranger now again.'

More than my all, is nothing; vor my prayers Anne.

So much the more Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes Must pity drop upon her. Verily,

More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers, and I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,

wishes, And range with humble livers in content, Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience, And wear a golden sorrow.

As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; Old L.

Our content

Whose health, and royalty, I pray for. Is our best having 2


Lady, Anne.

By my troth, and maidenhead, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit,6 I would not be a queen.

The king bath of you.- I have perus'd her well; Old L. Beshrew me, I would,

[.Aside. And venture maidenhead for't; and so would Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, you,

That they have caught the king: and who knows For all this spice of your hypocrisy:

yet, You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,

But from this lady may proceed a gem,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet To lighten all this isle ? —I'll to the king,
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;


I spoke with you.
Which, to say sooth,3 are blessings: and which


My honour'd lord. gifts

[Exit Lord Chamberlain. (Saving your mincing) the capacity

Old L. Why, this it is; see,

see! Of your soft cheveril4 conscience would receive, I have been beyging sixteen years in court, If you might please to stretch it.

(Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could Anne.

Nay, good troth,-||Come pat betwixt too early and too late, Old L. Yes, troth, and troth,—You would not be For any suit of pounds : and you, (O fate!) a queen?

A very fresh-fish here, (fie, fie upon Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. This compelld fortune.) have your mouth fill'd up, Old L. 'Tis strange; a three-pence bow'ds Before you open it. would hire me,


This is strange to me. Old as I am, to queen it: But, I pray you,

Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. What think you of a duchess? have you limbs There was a lady once ('tis an old story) To bear that load of title?

That would not be a queen, that would she not, Anne.

No, in truth. For all the mud in Egypt:-Have you heard it? Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off Anne. Come, you are pleasant. a little;

Old L.

With your theme, I could I would not be a young count in your way, O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke! For more than blushing comes to: if your back A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect; Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak No other obligation : By my life, Ever to get a boy.

That promises more thousands : Honour's train Anne. How you do talk !

Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time, I swear again, I would not be a queen

I know, your back will bear a duchess ;-Say, For all the world.

Are you not stronger than you were?
Old L.
In faith for little England Anne.

Good lady, You'd venture an emballing: I myself

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd || And leave me out on't. Would I had no being, No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me, here?

To think what follows.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

is comfortless, and we forgetful

In our long absence : Pray, do not deliver Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What were't worth || What here you have heard, to her. to know

Old L.

What do you think me? The secret of your conference ?

[Exeunt. Anne.

My good lord, SCENE IV.-A Hall in Black-Friars. TrumNot your demand; it values not your asking :

pets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying:

with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming in the habits of doctors ; after them, the ArchThe action of good women: there is hope,

bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the All will be well.

Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Anne. Now I pray God, amen!

Asaph; next them, with some small distance, Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly

follows a gentleman bearing the purse, with the blessings

great seal, and a cardinal'shat; then two Priests, Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,

bearing each a silver cross; then a Gentleman Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's Usher bare-headed, accompanied with a Serjeant Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty

at Arms, bearing a silver mace; then two Gene Commends his good opinion to you, and

tlemen, bearing two great silver pillars, 8 after Does purpose honour to you no less flowing


side by side, the two Cardinals, Wolsey Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pound a year, annual support,

and Campeius; two Noblemen with the sword and mace.

Then enter the King and Queen, Out of his grace he adds.

and their trains. The King takes place under Anne. I do not know,

the cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit under What kind of my obedience I should tender;

him as judges. The Queen takes place at some (1) No longer an Englishwoman. (2) Possession. (6) Opinion. (7) Flourish on cornets. (3) Truth. (4) Kid-skin. (5) Crook'd. (8) Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals.

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