SCENE II.

KING HENRY VIII.

We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution! Why, we take
From every tree. lop, bark, and part o' the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd
The air will drink the sap. To every county,
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has denied
The force of this commission: Pray, look to 't;
I put it to your care.
Wol.

A word with you. [To the Secretary
Let there be letters writ to every shire,

Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons
Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,

That through our intercession this revokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding.

Enter Surveyor.

[Exit Secretary.

Q. Kath. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.

K. Hen.

It grieves many :

Yet see

The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker,
To nature none more bound; his training such
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself.
When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,
the
Hath into monstrous habits put graces
That once were his, and is become as black

As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear
(This was his gentleman in trust) of him
Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices; whereof

We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what

Please your highness, note
This dangerous conception in this point.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant; and it stretches
Beyond you, to your friends.

Q. Kath.

Deliver all with charity.

K. Hen.

My learn'd lord cardinal,

Speak on:

How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?
He was brought to this
Surv.
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.
K. Hen. What was that Henton?
Surv.

Concerning the French journey: I replied,
Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said, "T was the fear, indeed; and that he doubted,
'T would prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk: "that oft," says he,
"Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living, but

To me, should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensued-Neither the king, nor his heirs,
(Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive
To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke
Shall govern England."

If I know you well,
Q. Kath.
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o' the tenants: Take good heed
person,
You charge not in your spleen a noble
And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you.

As, to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon

The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him."

A giant traitor!
K. Hen.
Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,
And this man out of prison?

God mend all!

Q. Kath.
K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee?
what say'st?

Surv. After the duke his father,"-with "the
knife,"-

He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour
Was,-were he evil us'd, he would outgo
Sir, a Chartreux friar, His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.

His confessor; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.

K. Hen.

How know'st thou this?

Sure. Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners

'Faith, how easy!
Sands. As easy as a down-hed 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 weather:-

Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they 're My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking;

In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have them There should be one amongst them, by his person,

2 Gent.
Is he found guilty?
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 Car,
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gent.

That fed him with his prophecies?

1 Gent.

That was he

The same.

All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain

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 lor'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 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

Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: As I would be forgiven: I forgive all :

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.

He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.

2 Gent.

The cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gent.

Sure, he does not,

Certainly

"T is 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 heip his father.

2 Gent.

That trick of state

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 Bucking-
ham,

The mirror of all courtesy.

Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDS, and common people.

1 Gent.
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

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!

In the original. "to him brought."

There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me that I cannot 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,
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.

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 gr
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,
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Henry the eighth, life, honour, name, and all
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
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 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 lov'd 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.