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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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SCENE II. 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,

-- 446 --


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,
In seeming to augment it, wastes it: be

-- 447 --


Advis'd I say again, there is no English
Soul stronger to direct you than your self,
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 b noteCourt-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

-- 448 --


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.
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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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