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SCENE I.-Westminster. A Street.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.
First Gent. Whither away so fast?
O! God save ye.
E'en to the hall. to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
Were you there?
First Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
Second Gent. Pray speak what has happen'd.
First Gent. You may guess quickly what.
Is he found guilty?
First Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd
Second Gent. I am sorry for 't.
So are a number more.
Second Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
First Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great
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 have brought, vivâ voce, to his face:
At which appear'd against him his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
That fed him with his prophecies ?
First 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.
Second 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.
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.
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.
All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, 50
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous
The mirror of all courtesy ;-
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tip-
staves before him; the axe with the edge towards
him; halberds on each side: accompanied with
Sir THOMAS LOVELL, Sir NICHOLAS VAUX,
Sir WALTER SANDS, and common people.
Second Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
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
And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 60
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,
'T has done upon the premisses but justice;
But those that sought it I could wish more
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em.
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
That was he More than I dare make faults. You few that
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 that I cannot take peace with: no black envy
Shall mark 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, 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 grace;
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.
Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, 100 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,
If the duke be guiltless, 'Tis full of woe; yet I can give you inkling 140 Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this.
First Gent. What may it be? sir?
Good angels keep it from us! You do not doubt my faith,
But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now; for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
That never knew what truth meant: I now Or some about him near, have, out of malice
And with that blood will make them one day groan for 't.
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, 110
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,
Restor❜d me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
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
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
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 make
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
SCENE II. An Antechamber in the Palace. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. Cham. My lord, The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord car dinal's, by commission and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason: His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir.
I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them : He will have all, I think. 11
Enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.
Nor. Well met, my lord chamberlain.
Cham. Good day to both your graces.
Suf. How is the king employ'd?
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.
NORFOLK opens a folding-door. The KING is dis-
covered sitting and reading pensively.
Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
K. Hen. Who's there, ha?
Pray God he be not angry.
K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you
Into my private meditations?
No; his conscience Who am I? ha?
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 list. The king will know him
Suf. Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else.
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
He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs; and all these for his
And out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce; a loss of her,
That like a jewel has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
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 most true
These news are every where; every tongue
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
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 like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.
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 're breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the pope.
And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much
My lord, you'll bear us company?
Excuse me; The king hath sent me otherwhere: besides,
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.
Ye are too bold. 70
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.
Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O! my
The quiet of my wounded conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a king. To CAMPEius.
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
Use us, and it. To WOLSEY. My good lord,
have great care
I be not found a talker.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
K. Hen. To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. We are
Nor. Aside to SUFFOLK. This priest has no pride in him!
Suf. Aside to NORFOLK. Not to speak of;
I would not be so sick though for his place :
But this cannot continue.
Nor. Aside to SUFFOLK. If it do,
I'll venture one have-at-him.
Suf. Aside to SUFFOLK.
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, 90
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-
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me, their servant, | "Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process
In the unpartial judging of this business.
To give her the avaunt! it is a pity
Would move a monster.
K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
Wol. I know your majesty has always lov'd her
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 shall have; and
To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow.
Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER, Wol. Aside to GARDINER. Give me your hand; much joy and favour to you:
You are the king's now.
Gard. Aside to WOLSEY. But to be commanded For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
Hearts of most hard temper
Is our best having.
By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty:
Which, to say sooth, are blessings, and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.
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 man 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 mur-
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
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-
Nay, good troth.
Old Lady. Yes, troth, and troth; you would
not be a queen?
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old Lady. 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd
would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? have you limbs
To bear that load of title?
Old Lady. Then you are weakly made. Pluck
off a little:
In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing: I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies.
worth to know
The secret of your conference?
My good lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women: there is hope
All will be well.
Now, I pray God, amen! Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings
Old Lady. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no.
There was a lady once, 'tis an old story,
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
With your theme I could
O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pem-
A thousand pounds a year for pure respect!
No other obligation! By my life
That promises more thousands: honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
I know your back will bear a duchess: say,
Are you not stronger than you were?
Good lady, 100
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on 't. Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me
To think what follows.
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver
What here you 've heard to her.
What do you think me?
SCENE IV.-A Hall in Black-Friars. Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in the habit of doctors; after them, the Archbishop of CANTERBURY alone; after him, the Bishops of LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT
ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing each a silver cross; then a GentlemanUsher bare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeantat-Arms, bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two Cardinals; two Noblemen with the sword and mace. Then enter the KING and QUEEN and their Trains. The KING takes place under the cloth of state; the two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place some distance from the KING. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a consistory; below them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order about the stage.
Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded.
Scribe. Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
Crier. Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.
The QUEEN makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the KING, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice
And to bestow your pity on me; for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas! sir
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off
And take your good grace from me? Heaven
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable;
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd. Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you: if, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name