Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fireworks;
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short blister'd breeches, and those types of
travel,

And understand again like honest men;

Or pack to their old play fellows: there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. "Tis time to give them physick, their
diseases

Are grown so catching.

Cham.

What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities!
Lov.

Ay, marry,

There will be wo indeed, lords; the sly whore

sons

Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad,
they're going

(For, sure, there's no converting of them :) now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Held current musick too.
Well said, Lord Sands:
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
Sands.

Cham.

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Cham.

Whither were you a going?
Lov.

Your lordship is a guest too.
Cham.

No, my lord;

Sir Thomas,

To the cardinal's;

O, 'tis true:
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind
indeed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.
Cham.

No doubt, he's noble:
He had a black mouth, that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal;
in him,

Cham. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.
Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
think, would better please them: By my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con-
fesssor

To one or two of these!
Sands.

I would, I were;
They should find easy penance.

Lov.
'Faith, how easy?
Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it.
Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?
Sir Harry,

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this:
His grace is ent'ring.-Nay, you must not freeze;
Two women plac'd together makes cold wea-

ther:

My Lord Sands, you are one will keep them
waking;

Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands.

By my faith, And thank your lordship.-By your leave, sweet ladies:

[Seats himself between Anne Bullen and
another Lady.

If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
Anne.
Was he mad, sir?
Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love

Sparing wonld show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal,
They are set here for examples.
Your grace is noble ;-
Cham.
True, they are so:
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays: Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
Your lordship shall along :-Come, good Sir And save me so much talking.
Thomas,

We shall be late else: which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,
This night to be comptrollers.
Sands.
1 am your lordship's.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Presence Chamber in York Place. Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Enter at one door Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as guests; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford. Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace

Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates
To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad: he would have all as merry
As first-good company, good wine, good wel-

and tables removed.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and, once more, shower a welcome on you :-Welcome all. Hautboys. Enter the King, and twelve others, as Maskers, habited like Shepherds, with sixteen Torchbearers: ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him.

A noble company! what are their pleasures?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus
they pray'd

To tell your grace;-That, having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly

This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocis; and under your fair con-
duct,

Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.
Wol.
Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace; for which
I pay them

A thousand thanks, and pray them take their
pleasures.
[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King
chooses Anne Bullen.

K. Hen. The fairest band I ever touch'd! O,
beauty,

Till now I never knew thee. [Musick. Dance.
Wol. My lord,-
Cham.

Your grace?

Wol. Pray, tell them thus much from me: There should be one amongst them, by his person,

More worthy this place than myself; to whom
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.
Cham

I will, my lord.

mony

Of bringing back the prisoner.
2 Gent.

Were you there?
Pray, speak, what has happen'd?
1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.
2 Gent.
Is he found guilty?

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
2 Gent.

1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it.
2 Gent. I am sorry for't.
1 Gent.
So are a number more.
2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
1 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, viva voce, to his face :
At which appear'd against him, his surveyor;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,

[Chamberlain goes to the company, and Hopkins, that made this mischief.

returns.

Wol. What say they?
Cham.

Such a one, they all confess There is, indeed; which they would have your

grace

Find out, and he will take it.
Wol.

Let me see then.
[Comes from his state.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen ;-Here I'll
make
My royal choice.
K. Hen.

You have found him, cardinal:
[Unmasking.
You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord:
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Wol.

I am glad,
Your grace is grown so pleasant.
K. Hen.
My lord chamberlain
Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that?
Cham. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas
Bullen's daughter,

The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness'

women.

K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.-
Sweetheart,

I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen,
Let it go round.

The same.

2 Gent. That was he, That fed him with his prophecies ? 1 Gent. All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain Would have flung from him, but, indeed he could

not:

And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life: but all
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten.

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?
1 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.
2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.

1 Gent.

Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2 Gent.
Certainly,
The cardinal is the end of this.
1 Gent.
'Tis likely,
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.

2 Gent.

Was a deep envious one.

That trick of state And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward

1 Gent.
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.

2 Gent.

All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous
Buckingham,

The mirror of all courtesy ;-
1 Gent.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble rain'd man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his arraignment;
Tipstaves before him, the axe with the edge
towards him; halberds on each side: with
him, Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Sir William Sauds, and common People.
2 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,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death,
It has done, upon the premises, but justice:
But those, that sought it, I could wish more

christians:

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,
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
lov'd 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

nanie.

'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
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with no black

envy

Shail 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 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,
Let it alone; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was lord high constable,

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 rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
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,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
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 most;
A most unnatural and faithless service!
Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear

me

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 peo-
ple,

Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last

hour

Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell:

me!

And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive
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 wo: yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
1 Gent.
Good angels keep it from us!
Where may 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.
Let me have it.

I do not talk much.
2 Gent.
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 rumour, 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 cardinai
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her: To confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.
1 Gent.
"Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark: But
is't not cruel,

You are too bold;
Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?—
Enter Wolsey and Campeius.

No, his conscience Who's there? my good lord cardinal 7-0, my
Wolsey,

'Tis so; The quiet of my wounded conscience, This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal; Thou art a cure fit for a king.-You're welcome, That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, [To Campeius. Turns what he lists. The king will know him Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom; one day. Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care Suff. Pray God, he do! he'll never know him-1 be not found a talker. [To Wolsey, self else. Wol.. Sir, you cannot.