Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,

Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies

More than I dare make faults. You few that loved

me,

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,

His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave

Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me, like good angels, to my end;
And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of

your prayers one sweet sacrifice,

And lift my soul to heaven.-Lead on, o' God's name. Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,

If ever any malice in your heart

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

2

'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy
Shall make 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 me,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever beloved, 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.

1 Evils are forica.

Nay, sir Nicholas,

2 Warburton reads "mark my grave."

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,

That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it ; And with that blood will make them one day groan for't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

Who first raised head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succor to his servant Banister,

Being distressed, was by that wretch betrayed,
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,
Restored me to my honors, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honor, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
Forever from the world. I had my trial,

And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father:
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes,-Both
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most;
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 friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

Like water from ye, never found again

But where they mean to sink ye. All good people, Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour Of my long, weary life is come upon me.

Farewell:

And when you would say something that is sad,

1 The name of the duke of Buckingham most generally known was Stafford; it is said that he affected the surname of Bohun, because he was lord high constable of England by inheritance of tenure from the Bohuns. Shakspeare follows Holinshed.

Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive

me!

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train.

1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!—Sir, it calls,

I fear, too many curses on their heads,

That were the authors.

2 Gent.

If the duke be guiltless,

'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

Greater than this.

1 Gent.

Where may

Good angels keep it from us! it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gent.

I do not talk much.

2 Gent.

Let me have it;

I am confident;

You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent.
Yes, but it held not;
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight
To stop the rumor, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

2 Gent.
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,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possessed him with a scruple
That will undo her. To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;

As all think, for this business.

'Tis the cardinal;

1 Gent.
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,

For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.

2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark; but is't not cruel,

1 Great fidelity.

That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall.

1 Gent.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

'Tis woful.

[Exeunt.

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 cardinal'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.

Enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and Suffolk. Nor. Well met, my good lord chamberlain. Cham. Good day to both your graces.

Suf. How is the king employed?

Cham.

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Nor.

I left him private,

What's the cause?

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience.

Suf.

No, his conscience

'Tis so;

Has crept too near another lady.
Nor.
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.
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 cracked 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.
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 them,
And every true heart weeps for't. All, that dare
Look into these affairs, see this main end,-

The French king's sister.1 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 honors
Lie in one lump before him, to be fashioned
Into what pitch he please.

Suf.

For me, my lords,
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 are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him, that made him proud, the pope.

1 It was the main end or object of Wolsey to bring about a marriage Letween Henry and the French king's sister, the duchess of Alençon.