Buckingham.
Good morrow, and well met. How have you done,
Since last we saw 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.
'Twixt Guynes and Arde:
I was then present, saw 'em salute on horse-back,
Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung

In their embracement, as they grew together;
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd
Such a compounded one?

Buck.
All the whole time,
I was my chamber's prisoner.

Nor.
Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: men might say,
'Till this time Pomp was single, but now marry'd
To one above it self. Each following day
Became the next day's master, 'till the last
Made former wonders, its. To day the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English; and to morrow they
Made Britain, India: every man that stood,
Shew'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As Cherubins, all gilt; the Madams too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them; that their very labour
Was to them as a painting. Now this mask
Was cry'd, incomparable; and th' ensuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two Kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them; him in eye,
Still him in praise; and being present both,
'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. 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; that old fabulous story
(Being now seen possible enough) got credit;
That † ^noteBevis was believ'd.

Buck.
Oh, you go far.

Nor.
As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour, honesty; the tract of every thing
Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which Action's self was tongue to. All was royal;(3) ^note

To the disposing of it nought rebell'd;
Order gave each thing view: The office did
Distinctly his full function.

Buck.
Who did guide,
I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess?

Nor.
One, sure, that promises no element
In such a business.

Buck.
Pray you, who, my lord?

Nor.
All this was order'd by the good discretion
Of the right rev'rend Cardinal of York.

Buck.
The devil speed him! no man's pye is freed
From his ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder,
That such a ketch can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o'th' beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.

Nor.
Yet, surely, Sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends.
For being not propt by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way; nor call'd upon
For high feats done to th' Crown; neither ally'd
To eminent assistants; but spider like
Out of his self-drawn web;—this gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the King.

Aber.
I cannot tell
What heav'n hath giv'n him; let some graver eye
Pierce into that: but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him; whence has he that?(4) ^note

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,
Or has given all before; and he begins
A new hell in himself.

Buck.
Why the devil,
Upon this French going out, 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: And his own letter
(The honourable board of council out)
Must fetch in him he papers.

Aber.
I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly.

Buck.
O, many
Have broke their backs with laying mannors on 'em
For this great journey. What did this vanity
But minister communication of
A most poor issue?

Nor.
Grievingly, I think,
The peace between the French and us not values
The cost, that did conclude it.

Buck.
Every man,
After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd; and not consulting, broke
Into a general prophesie, that this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboaded
The sudden breach on't.

Nor.
Which is budded out:
For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd
Our merchants goods at Bourdeaux.

Aber.
Is it therefore
Th' ambassador is silenc'd?

Nor.
Marry, is't.

Aber.
A proper title of a peace, and purchas'd
At a superfluous rate!

Buck.
Why all this business
Our rev'rend Cardinal carried.

Nor.
Like it your Grace,
The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you,
(And take it from a heart, that wishes tow'rds you
Honour and plenteous safety;) that you read
The Cardinal's malice and his potency
Together: to consider further, that
What his high hatred would effect, wants not
A minister in his pow'r. 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 wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock,
That I advise your shunning. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse born 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?

Secr.
Here, so please you.

Wol.
Is he in person ready?

Secr.
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 pow'r to muzzle him; therefore best
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Out-worths a noble's blood.

Nor.
What, are you chaf'd?
Ask God for temp'rance; that's th'appliance only,
Which your disease requires.

Buck.
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, 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. To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
Self-mettle tires him: not a man in England
Can advise me, like you: be to your self,
As you would to your friend.

Buck.
I'll to the King,
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim,
There's diff'rence in no persons.

Nor.
Be advis'd;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot,
That it do singe your self. We may out-run
By violent swiftness, that which we run at;
And lose by over-running: know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor 'till't run o'er,
Seeming t' augment it, wastes it? be advis'd:
I say again, there is no English Soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself;
If with the sap of reason 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.—Attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal rav'nous,
As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief,

As able to perform't;) his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea reciprocally,
Only to shew his pomp, as well in France
As here at home, suggests the King our master
To this last costly treaty, th' enterview,
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. Now this follows,
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To th' old dam, treason;) Charles the Emperor,
Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt,
(For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey;) here makes visitation:
His fears were, that the interview betwixt
England and France might through their amity
Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
Peep'd harms, that menac'd him. He privily
Deals with our Cardinal, and as I trow,
Which I do well—for, I am sure, the Emperor
Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold; the Emp'ror thus desir'd,
That he would please to alter the King's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the Cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.

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 Serjeant 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, to look on
The business present. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure
You shall to th' Tower.

Buck.
It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me,
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heav'n
Be done in this and all things! I obey.
O my lord Aberga'ny, 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.
As the Duke said,
The will of heav'n be done; and the King's pleasure
By me 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.(5) ^note

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

Bran.
A monk o'th' Chartreux.

Buck.
Nicholas Hopkins?(6) ^note

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,
Whose figure ev'n this instant cloud puts on,
By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewel. [Exe.

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