SCENE I.-Westminster. A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

First Gent. Whither away so fast?

Second Gent.
O! God save ye.
E'en to the hall. to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
First Gent.

I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
Second Gent.

Were you there?
First Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
Second Gent. Pray speak what has happen'd.
First Gent. You may guess quickly what.
Second Gent.
Is he found guilty?
First Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd
upon 't.

Second Gent. I am sorry for 't.
First Gent.

So are a number more.
Second Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

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First 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 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.
Second Gent.

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.
First Gent.
Sure, he does not;
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
Second Gent.

Certainly,

The cardinal is the end of this.
First Gent.

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.

Second Gent.

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
Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy ;-
First Gent.
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.
Buck.
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
witness,

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
Christians:

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
lov'd me,

21

That never knew what truth meant: I now Or some about him near, have, out of malice

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?
Cham.

I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor.
What's the cause?
Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's
wife

Has crept too near his conscience.
Suf.

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?
Nor.
Pray God he be not angry.
K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you
thrust yourselves

Into my private meditations?
No; his conscience Who am I? ha?

Has crept too near another lady.
Nor.
"Tis so:
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
one day.

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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
nephew,

He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs; and all these for his
marriage :

30

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
speaks 'em,

40

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
open

The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

Suf.

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.

Suf.

For me, my lords,

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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.
Nor.
Let's in;
And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much
upon him.

My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cham

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.
K. Hen.
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
Wolsey,

The quiet of my wounded conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a king. To CAMPEius.
You're welcome,

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.
Wol.

Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

K. Hen. To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. We are
busy: go.

80

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.

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, 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

110

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
my favour

To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
I find him a fit fellow.

Exit WOLSEY.

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.

Old Lady.

10

Hearts of most hard temper

Melt and lament for her.

Old Lady.

Is our best having.
Anne.

Our content

20

By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
120
Old Lady.
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?
Wol.
Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man?
Wol.
Yes, surely.
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
then

Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol.

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.

Wol.
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.
Exit GARDINER.
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-
science!

140

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Anne.
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?
Anne.
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.
comes here?

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good morrow, ladies.
worth to know

The secret of your conference?

Lo! who

What were

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Anne.
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.

Anne.

Now, I pray God, amen! Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings