Buckingham.
Good-morrow, and well met. How have you done
Since last we saw you, in France?

Nor.
I thank your grace:
Healthful, and ever since, a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.

Buck.
An untimely ague

Staid me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Arde.

Nor.
Then you lost
The view of earthly glory. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them.
When these suns,
(For so they phrase 'em) by their heralds, challeng'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform,
Beyond thought's compass.
And all this order'd by the good discretion
Of the right rev'rend Cardinal of York.

Buck.
The devil speed him: What had he to do,
In these fierce vanities?
Why took he upon him,
Without the privity o'th' king, t'appoint
Who should attend him? he makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the most part such,
To whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon 'em.

Nor.
The state takes notice of the private difference,
Betwixt you and the cardinal.
You know his nature;
That he's revengeful; and I know his sword
Hath a sharp edge: It's long, and't may be said,
It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel;
You'll find it wholsome. Lo, where comes that rock,
That I advise your shunning.* ^note

Enter Cardinal Wolsey,† ^note and Cromwell, the purse borne before him, certain of the guard, and two secretaries, with papers; the Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.

Wol.
The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha!
Where's his examination?

Crom.
Here, so please you.

Wol.
Is he in person ready?

Crom.
Ay, an't please your grace.

Wol.
Well, we shall then know more,
And Buckingham shall lessen this big look. [Exeunt Cardinal, and his train.

Buck.
This butcher's cur is venom mouth'd, and I
Have not the power to muzzle him, therefore best
Not wake him in his slumber. I read in's looks
Matter against me, and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object; at this instant,
He bores me with some trick;* ^note he's gone to th' king:
I'll follow, and out-stare him.

Nor.
Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question,
What 'tis you go about. Be advis'd, I say;
There is no English soul who better can
Direct you, than yourself,
If with the sap of reason‡ ^note you would quench,
Or but allay the fire of passion.

Buck.
Sir,
I'm thankful to you, and I'll go along,
By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions; by intelligence

And proofs, as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.

Nor.
Say not, treasonous.

Buck.
To th' king I'll say't, and make my vouch as strong,
As shore of rock—my lord, this holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, his mind and place
Infecting one another;
Suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty, th' interview,
That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass,
Did break i'th' rinsing.

Nor.
Faith, and so it did.

Buck.
Pray give me favour, sir—this cunning cardinal
The articles o'th' combination drew,
As himself pleas'd; and they were ratify'd,
As he cry'd, let it be—to as much end,
As give a crutch to th' dead, but our court-cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well—for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Let the king know,
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases.

Nor.
I am sorry
To hear this of him! and could wish you were
Something mistaken in't.

Buck.
No, not a syllable:
I do pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appear in proof. Enter Brandon, a serjant at arms before him, and two or three of the guard.

Bran.
Your office, serjeant; execute it.

Serj.
Sir.
My lord, the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hertford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sov'reign king.

Buck.
Lo you, my lord,
The net has fall'n upon me; I shall perish,
Under device and practice.

Bran.
I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty;
'Tis his highness' pleasure
You shall to th' Tower.

Buck.
It will help me nothing,
To plead mine innocence; for that die is on me,
Which makes my whitest part black. I obey.
O my lord, fare ye well.

Bran.
Nay, he must bear you company. The king
Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, 'till you know
How he determines further.

Aber.
The king's pleasure must be obey'd.

Bran.
Here is a warrant from
The king, t'attach Lord Montague, and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor.

Buck.
So, so;
These are the limbs o'th' plot: no more, I hope?

Bran.
A monk o'th' Chartreux.

Buck.
Nicholas Hopkins?

Bran.
He.

Buck.
My surveyor is false, the o'er-great cardinal
Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spann'd already:
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham.* ^note
Whose figure ev'n this instant cloud puts out,
By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewel. [Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Henry,† ^note leaning on the cardinal's shoulder; the nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovel; the cardinal places himself under the king's feet, on his right side.

King.
My life itself, and the best heart of it,‡ ^note
Thank you for this great care, I stood i'th' level
Of a full charg'd confed'racy, and give thanks
To you that chok'd it. Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's, in person,
I'll hear him his confessions justify.
And, point by point, the treasons of his master,
He shall again relate. Lord Chamberlain says, Room for the queen. Enter the Queen, she kneels. The king riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him.

King.
Rise, and take place by us.

Queen.
Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.

King.
Arise, and take place by us; half your suit* ^note
Never name to us; you have half our power:
The other moiety ere you ask is given;
Repeat your will, and take it.

Queen.
Thank your majesty.
That you would love yourself, and, in that love,
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.

King.
Lady mine, proceed.

Queen.
I am solicited, not by a few,
And those of true condition, that your subjects

Are in great grievance. There have been commissions
Sent down among 'em, which have flaw'd the heart
Of all their loyalties; wherein although [To Wolsey.
(My good lord cardinal) they vent reproaches,
Most bitterly on you, as putter on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master
(Whose honour heav'n shield from soil) escapes not
Language unmannerly; yea such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears,
In loud rebellion.* ^note

Nor.
Not almost appears,
It doth appear; for upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing,
Compell'd by hunger,
And lack of other means, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.‡ ^note

King.
Taxation?
Wherein? and what taxation? my lord cardinal,
You that are blam'd for it, alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?

Wol.
Please you, sir,
I know but of a single part, in ought
Pertains to th' state, and front but in that file,
Where others tell steps with me.

Queen.
No, my lord,
You know no more than others; but you frame
Things that are known alike, which are not wholsome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
(Whereof my sovereign would have note) they are
Most pestilent to th' hearing; and to bear 'em,
The back is sacrifice to th'load. They say,
They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

King.
Still exaction!
The nature of it, in what kind, let's know,
Is this exaction?

Queen.
I am much too vent'rous,
In tempting of your patience, but am bolden'd,
Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects' grief
Comes through commissions, which compel from each,
The sixth part of his substance, to be levy'd
Without delay; and the pretence for this,
Is nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold mouths,
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them. All their curses, now,
Live where their pray'rs did. I would your highness
Would give it quick consideration.* ^note

King.
By my life,
This is against our pleasure.

Wol.
And for me,
I have no further gone in this, than by
A single voice, and that not past me but
By learned approbation of the judges.
If I'm 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† ^note
That virtue must go through.
If we stand still, in fear, we then are only
Statues of the state.

King.
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 them in our will. Sixth part of each!
A trembling contribution!—Why, we take
From ev'ry tree, lop, bark, and part o'th' timber:
And though we leave it with the root thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To ev'ry county
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has deny'd
The force of this commission. Pray look to't,
I put it to your care.

Wol.
A word with you. [To Cromwell.
Let there be letters writ to ev'ry shire,
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons
Hardly conceive of me. Let it be nois'd,
That through our intercessions, this revokement,
And pardon comes: I shall anon, advise you
Further in the proceeding.* ^note [Exit Crom. Enter Surveyor.

Queen.
I'm sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.

King.
It grieves many.
The gentleman is learn'd; a most rare speaker;
To nature, none more bound; but he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces,
That once were his.
Sit; 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 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.

King.
Speak freely.

Surv.
First, it was usual with him, ev'ry day,
It would infect his speech, that if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry't so,
To make the scepter his. These very words
I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Abergavenny, to whom, by oath, he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.

King.
Speak on.
How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? To this point, hast thou heard him
At any time speak ought?

Surv.
He was brought to this,
By a vain prophesie of Nicholas Hopkins,
His confessor, who fed him, ev'ry minute,
With words of sov'reignty. There is, says he,
A holy monk, that oft
Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour,
To hear from him a matter of some moment.
Who (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,
Thus pausingly ensu'd: Neither the king, nor's heirs
(Tell you the duke) shall prosper; bid him strive
To gain the love o'th' commonalty, the duke
Shall govern England—

Queen.
If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office,
On the complaint o'th' tenants. Take good heed,

You charge not, in your spleen, a noble person,
And spoil your noble soul. I say, take heed.* ^note

King.
Let him proceed.

Surv.
On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord, the duke, by th' devil's illusions,
The monk might be deceiv'd, and that 'twas dangerous
For him to ruminate on this.
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 Lovel's heads
Should have gone off.

King.
Ha! What so rank? Ah, ha—
There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?

Surv.
I can, my liege.

King.
Proceed.

Surv.
Being at Greenwich,
After your highness had reprov'd the duke,
About Sir William Blomer—

King.
I remember
Of such a time, he being my sworn servant,
The duke retain'd him his. But on.

Surv.
If, quoth he, I for this had been committed,
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's presence; which, if granted,
(As he made semblance of his duty) would
Have put his dagger into him.

King.
A giant traitor!

Wol.
Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
And this man out of prison?

Queen.
Heaven mend all.

King.
There's something more would out of thee.
  What say'st?

Surv.
When he had said this,
With one hand on his dagger,
The other spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenour
Was, were he evil us'd, he would out-go
His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.

King.
There's his period,
To sheath his dagger in us: he's attach'd.
Call him to present trial; if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us. By day and night
He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt. Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Chamb.
How now?
What news, Sir Thomas Lovel? Enter Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord Sands.* ^note

Lov.
'Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clap'd upon the court-gate.

Chamb.
What is't for?

Lov.
The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and taylors.

Chamb.
I'm glad 'tis there: now, I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!

Lov.
Ay, marry,
There will be woe, indeed, lords;
A French song and a fiddle, has no fellow.

Sands.
The devil fiddle 'em; I'm glad they're a going,
For sure there's no converting 'em. Now, sirs,
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have an hour of hearing, and by'r lady,
Held current music, too.

Chamb.
Well said, lord Sands,
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet?

Sands.
No, my lord,
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Chamb.
Sir Thomas,
Whither are you going?

Lov.
To the cardinal's;
Your lordship is a guest, too.

Chamb.
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.
The churchman bears a bounteous mind, indeed;
A hand as fruitful, as the land that feeds us.

Chamb.
My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late else.

Sands.
Ay, ay,
If the beauties are there, I must make
One among 'em, to be sure. [Exeunt. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Anne Bullen, and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen, as guests. Enter Sir Henry Guilford.

Guil.
Ladies, a gen'ral 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,* ^note 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. Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Lovel.
O, my lord, y're tardy;
The very thoughts of this fair company,
Clap'd wings to me.

Chamb.
You're young, Sir Harry Guilford.

Sands.
Sir Thomas Lovel, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet, ere they rested,
I think would better please 'em. 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.

Sands.
I would I were,
They should find easy penance.

Lov.
'Faith, how easy?

Sands.
As easy as a down bed would afford it.† ^note

Chamb.
Sweet ladies, will it please you sit. Sir Harry,
Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this.
His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze:
Two women plac'd together make cold weather.
My lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking,
Pray sit between these ladies.

Sands.
By my faith,

And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies; [Sits.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me:
I had it from my father.

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'd kiss you twenty with a breath. [Kisses her.

Chamb.
Well said, my lord.
So now y'are fairly seated. Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away, frowning.

Sands.
For my little cure,
Let me alone. Flourish. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his state.

Wol.
Y'are welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady,
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome,
And to you all, good health.

Sands.
Your grace is noble:
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.

Wol.
My lord Sands,
I am beholden to you; cheer your neighbour.
Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?

Sands.
The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have 'em
Talk us to silence.

Anne.
You're a merry gamester,
My lord Sands.

Sands.
Yes, if I make my play.
Here's to your ladyship, and pledge it, madam:
For, 'tis to such a thing—

Anne.
You cannot shew me.

Sands.
I told your grace that they would talk anon. [Drum and trumpets, and guns discharged.

Wol.
What's that?

Chamb.
Look out there, some of ye.

Wol.
What warlike voice,
And to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war y'are privileged. Enter Cromwell.

Chamb.
How now, what is't?

Crom.
A noble troop of strangers,
For so they seem, have left their barge, and landed,
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.

Wol.
Good lord chamberlain,
Go, give 'em welcome: you can speak the French tongue,
And pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heav'n of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him. [All arise, and tables removed.
You've now a broken banquet, but we'll mend it.
A good digestion to you all; and once more,
I shower a welcome on ye: welcome all. Flourish. Enter King, and others, as maskers, habited like Shepherds, usher'd by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him.
A noble company! What are their pleasures?

Chamb.
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 conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and intreat
An hour of revels with 'em.

Wol.
Say, lord chamberlain,
They've done my poor house grace: for which I pay 'em
A thousand thanks; and pray 'em take their pleasures. [Chuse Ladies, King and Anne Bullen. Dance.

King.
The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O, beauty,
'Till now I never knew thee.

Wol.
My lord.

Chamb.
Your grace?

Wol.
Pray, tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em, 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. [Whisper.

Chamb.
I will, my lord.

Wol.
What say they?

Chamb.
Such a one, they all confess,
There is, indeed, which they will have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.

Wol.
Let me see, then.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make
My royal choice.

King.
You've found him, cardinal:
You hold a fair assembly. You do well, my lord.
You are a church-man, or I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge you unhappily.* ^note

Wol.
I'm glad
Your grace is grown so pleasant.

King.
My lord chamberlain,
Pr'ythee come hither; what fair lady's that?

Chamb.
An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter,
(The Viscount Rochford) one of her highness' women.

King.
By Heav'n, she's a dainty one. Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly to take you out, [To Anne Bullen.
And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round.

Wol.
Sir Thomas Lovel, is the banquet ready,
I' the privy chamber?

Lov.
Yes, my lord.

Wol.
Your grace,
I fear, is a little heated.

King.
I fear too much.

Wol.
There's fresher air, my lord,
In the next chamber.

King.
Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,
I must not yet forsake you; let's be merry.
My good lord cardinal, you must give us leave,
To keep these ladies from their rest, a while.
I have another measure yet to lead 'em,
Which being ended, they shall all go sleep.
Then this, which does a happy vision seem,
May be again repeated in a dream. [Exeunt. ^note End of the First Act.

^note

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