ACT ISCENE I. London. An ante-chamber in the palace.Enter theDuke of Norfolkat one door; at the other, theDuke of Buckinghamand theLord Abergavenny.BUCKINGHAM.Good morrow, and well met. How have ye doneSince last we saw in France?NORFOLK.I thank your Grace,Healthful, and ever since a fresh admirerOf what I saw there.BUCKINGHAM.An untimely agueStayed me a prisoner in my chamber whenThose suns of glory, those two lights of men,Met in the vale of Andren.NORFOLK.’Twixt Guynes and Arde.I was then present, saw them salute on horseback,Beheld them when they lighted, how they clungIn their embracement, as they grew together—Which had they, what four throned ones could have weighedSuch a compounded one?BUCKINGHAM.All the whole timeI was my chamber’s prisoner.NORFOLK.Then you lostThe view of earthly glory. Men might say,Till this time pomp was single, but now marriedTo one above itself. Each following dayBecame the next day’s master, till the lastMade former wonders its. Today the French,All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,Shone down the English; and tomorrow, theyMade Britain India: every man that stoodShowed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages wereAs cherubins, all gilt. The madams too,Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bearThe pride upon them, that their very labourWas to them as a painting. Now this masqueWas cried incomparable; and th’ ensuing nightMade it a fool and beggar. The two kings,Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,As presence did present them: him in eye,Still him in praise; and being present both,’Twas said they saw but one, and no discernerDurst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns—For so they phrase ’em—by their heralds challengedThe noble spirits to arms, they did performBeyond thought’s compass, that former fabulous story,Being now seen possible enough, got credit,That Bevis was believed.BUCKINGHAM.O, you go far.NORFOLK.As I belong to worship and affectIn honour honesty, the tract of everythingWould by a good discourser lose some life,Which action’s self was tongue to. All was royal;To the disposing of it nought rebelled;Order gave each thing view; the office didDistinctly his full function.BUCKINGHAM.Who did guide,I mean, who set the body and the limbsOf this great sport together, as you guess?NORFOLK.One, certes, that promises no elementIn such a business.BUCKINGHAM.I pray you who, my lord?NORFOLK.All this was ordered by the good discretionOf the right reverend Cardinal of York.BUCKINGHAM.The devil speed him! No man’s pie is freedFrom his ambitious finger. What had heTo do in these fierce vanities? I wonderThat such a keech can with his very bulkTake up the rays o’ th’ beneficial sunAnd keep it from the earth.NORFOLK.Surely, sir,There’s in him stuff that puts him to these ends;For, being not propped by ancestry, whose graceChalks successors their way, nor called uponFor high feats done to th’ crown; neither alliedTo eminent assistants, but spider-like,Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us noteThe force of his own merit makes his wayA gift that heaven gives for him, which buysA place next to the King.ABERGAVENNY.I cannot tellWhat heaven hath given him—let some graver eyePierce into that—but I can see his pridePeep through each part of him. Whence has he that?If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,Or has given all before, and he beginsA new hell in himself.BUCKINGHAM.Why the devil,Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,Without the privity o’ th’ King, t’ appointWho should attend on him? He makes up the fileOf all the gentry, for the most part suchTo whom as great a charge as little honourHe meant to lay upon; and his own letter,The honourable board of council out,Must fetch him in he papers.ABERGAVENNY.I do knowKinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haveBy this so sickened their estates that neverThey shall abound as formerly.BUCKINGHAM.O, manyHave broke their backs with laying manors on ’emFor this great journey. What did this vanityBut minister communication ofA most poor issue?NORFOLK.Grievingly I thinkThe peace between the French and us not valuesThe cost that did conclude it.BUCKINGHAM.Every man,After the hideous storm that followed, wasA thing inspired and, not consulting, brokeInto a general prophecy, that this tempest,Dashing the garment of this peace, abodedThe sudden breach on’t.NORFOLK.Which is budded out,For France hath flawed the league, and hath attachedOur merchants’ goods at Bordeaux.ABERGAVENNY.Is it thereforeTh’ ambassador is silenced?NORFOLK.Marry, is’t.ABERGAVENNY.A proper title of a peace, and purchasedAt a superfluous rate!BUCKINGHAM.Why, all this businessOur reverend Cardinal carried.NORFOLK.Like it your Grace,The state takes notice of the private differenceBetwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you—And take it from a heart that wishes towards youHonour and plenteous safety—that you readThe Cardinal’s malice and his potencyTogether; to consider further thatWhat his high hatred would effect wants notA minister in his power. You know his nature,That he’s revengeful, and I know his swordHath a sharp edge; it’s long, and ’t may be saidIt reaches far, and where ’twill not extend,Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel;You’ll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rockThat I advise your shunning.EnterCardinal Wolsey, the purse borne before him, certain of the Guard and twoSecretarieswith papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye onBuckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.WOLSEY.The Duke of Buckingham’s surveyor, ha?Where’s his examination?SECRETARY.Here, so please you.WOLSEY.Is he in person ready?SECRETARY.Ay, please your Grace.WOLSEY.Well, we shall then know more, and BuckinghamShall lessen this big look.[ExeuntCardinal Wolseyand his train.]BUCKINGHAM.This butcher’s cur is venom-mouthed, and IHave not the power to muzzle him; therefore bestNot wake him in his slumber. A beggar’s bookOutworths a noble’s blood.NORFOLK.What, are you chafed?Ask God for temp’rance. That’s the appliance onlyWhich your disease requires.BUCKINGHAM.I read in ’s looksMatter against me, and his eye reviledMe as his abject object. At this instantHe bores me with some trick. He’s gone to th’ King.I’ll follow, and outstare him.NORFOLK.Stay, my lord,And let your reason with your choler questionWhat ’tis you go about. To climb steep hillsRequires slow pace at first. Anger is likeA full hot horse, who being allowed his way,Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in EnglandCan advise me like you; be to yourselfAs you would to your friend.BUCKINGHAM.I’ll to the King,And from a mouth of honour quite cry downThis Ipswich fellow’s insolence, or proclaimThere’s difference in no persons.NORFOLK.Be advised.Heat not a furnace for your foe so hotThat it do singe yourself. We may outrunBy violent swiftness that which we run at,And lose by over-running. Know you not,The fire that mounts the liquor till ’t run o’er,In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised.I say again, there is no English soulMore stronger to direct you than yourself,If with the sap of reason you would quench,Or but allay the fire of passion.BUCKINGHAM.Sir,I am thankful to you, and I’ll go alongBy your prescription; but this top-proud fellow—Whom from the flow of gall I name not, butFrom sincere motions—by intelligence,And proofs as clear as founts in July whenWe see each grain of gravel, I do knowTo be corrupt and treasonous.NORFOLK.Say not “treasonous.”BUCKINGHAM.To th’ King I’ll say’t, and make my vouch as strongAs shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,Or wolf, or both—for he is equal ravenousAs he is subtle, and as prone to mischiefAs able to perform’t, his mind and placeInfecting one another, yea, reciprocally—Only to show his pomp as well in FranceAs here at home, suggests the King our masterTo this last costly treaty, th’ interview,That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glassDid break i’ th’ rinsing.NORFOLK.Faith, and so it did.BUCKINGHAM.Pray give me favour, sir. This cunning CardinalThe articles o’ th’ combination drewAs himself pleased; and they were ratifiedAs he cried “Thus let be,” to as much endAs give a crutch to the dead. But our Count-CardinalHas done this, and ’tis well, for worthy Wolsey,Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows—Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppyTo the old dam treason—Charles the Emperor,Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt—For ’twas indeed his colour, but he cameTo whisper Wolsey—here makes visitation.His fears were that the interview betwixtEngland and France might through their amityBreed him some prejudice, for from this leaguePeeped harms that menaced him. He privilyDeals with our Cardinal, and, as I trow—Which I do well, for I am sure the EmperorPaid ere he promised, whereby his suit was grantedEre it was asked. But when the way was madeAnd paved with gold, the Emperor thus desiredThat he would please to alter the King’s courseAnd break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,As soon he shall by me, that thus the CardinalDoes buy and sell his honour as he pleasesAnd for his own advantage.NORFOLK.I am sorryTo hear this of him, and could wish he wereSomething mistaken in’t.BUCKINGHAM.No, not a syllable.I do pronounce him in that very shapeHe shall appear in proof.EnterBrandon, aSergeant-at-armsbefore him, and two or three of the Guard.BRANDON.Your office, sergeant: execute it.SERGEANT.Sir,My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and EarlOf Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, IArrest thee of high treason, in the nameOf our most sovereign King.BUCKINGHAM.Lo you, my lord,The net has fall’n upon me. I shall perishUnder device and practice.BRANDON.I am sorryTo see you ta’en from liberty, to look onThe business present. ’Tis his Highness’ pleasureYou shall to th’ Tower.BUCKINGHAM.It will help nothingTo plead mine innocence, for that dye is on meWhich makes my whit’st part black. The will of heavenBe done in this and all things. I obey.O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well.BRANDON.Nay, he must bear you company.[To Abergavenny.] The KingIs pleased you shall to th’ Tower, till you knowHow he determines further.ABERGAVENNY.As the Duke said,The will of heaven be done, and the King’s pleasureBy me obeyed.BRANDON.Here is warrant fromThe King t’ attach Lord Montague, and the bodiesOf the Duke’s confessor, John de la Car,One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor—BUCKINGHAM.So, so;These are the limbs o’ th’ plot. No more, I hope?BRANDON.A monk o’ th’ Chartreux.BUCKINGHAM.O, Nicholas Hopkins?BRANDON.He.BUCKINGHAM.My surveyor is false. The o’er-great CardinalHath showed him gold. My life is spanned already.I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,Whose figure even this instant cloud puts onBy dark’ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. The same. The council-chamber.Cornets. EnterKing Henry, leaning on theCardinal’sshoulder, the Nobles, andSir Thomas Lovell; the Cardinal places himself under the King’s feet on his right side.KING.My life itself, and the best heart of it,Thanks you for this great care. I stood i’ th’ levelOf a full-charged confederacy, and give thanksTo you that choked it. Let be called before usThat gentleman of Buckingham’s; in personI’ll hear his confessions justify,And point by point the treasons of his masterHe shall again relate.A noise within crying “Room for the Queen!” EnterQueen Katherine, ushered by theDuke of Norfolkand theDuke of Suffolk. She kneels. TheKingriseth from his state, takes her up and kisses her.QUEEN KATHERINE.Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.KING.Arise, and take place by us.[He placeth her by him.]Half your suitNever name to us; you have half our power;The other moiety ere you ask is given.Repeat your will and take it.QUEEN KATHERINE.Thank your Majesty.That you would love yourself, and in that loveNot unconsidered leave your honour norThe dignity of your office, is the pointOf my petition.KING.Lady mine, proceed.QUEEN KATHERINE.I am solicited, not by a few,And those of true condition, that your subjectsAre in great grievance. There have been commissionsSent down among ’em which hath flawed the heartOf all their loyalties; wherein, although,My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproachesMost bitterly on you as putter-onOf these exactions, yet the King our master,Whose honour heaven shield from soil, even he escapes notLanguage unmannerly, yea, such which breaksThe sides of loyalty, and almost appearsIn loud rebellion.NORFOLK.Not “almost appears,”It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,The clothiers all, not able to maintainThe many to them longing, have put offThe spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,Unfit for other life, compelled by hungerAnd lack of other means, in desperate mannerDaring the event to th’ teeth, are all in uproar,And danger serves among them.KING.Taxation?Wherein? And what taxation? My Lord Cardinal,You that are blamed for it alike with us,Know you of this taxation?WOLSEY.Please you, sir,I know but of a single part in aughtPertains to th’ state, and front but in that fileWhere others tell steps with me.QUEEN KATHERINE.No, my lord?You know no more than others? But you frameThings that are known alike, which are not wholesomeTo those which would not know them, and yet mustPerforce be their acquaintance. These exactionsWhereof my sovereign would have note, they areMost pestilent to the hearing, and to bear ’em,The back is sacrifice to the load. They sayThey are devised by you, or else you sufferToo hard an exclamation.KING.Still exaction!The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know,Is this exaction?QUEEN KATHERINE.I am much too venturousIn tempting of your patience, but am boldenedUnder your promised pardon. The subjects’ griefComes through commissions, which compels from eachThe sixth part of his substance, to be leviedWithout delay; and the pretence for thisIs named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths.Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freezeAllegiance in them. Their curses nowLive where their prayers did; and it’s come to passThis tractable obedience is a slaveTo each incensed will. I would your HighnessWould give it quick consideration, forThere is no primer business.KING.By my life,This is against our pleasure.WOLSEY.And for me,I have no further gone in this than byA single voice, and that not passed me butBy learned approbation of the judges. If I amTraduced by ignorant tongues, which neither knowMy faculties nor person, yet will beThe chronicles of my doing, let me say’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brakeThat virtue must go through. We must not stintOur necessary actions in the fearTo cope malicious censurers, which ever,As ravenous fishes, do a vessel followThat is new-trimmed, but benefit no furtherThan vainly longing. What we oft do best,By sick interpreters, once weak ones, isNot ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft,Hitting a grosser quality, is cried upFor our best act. If we shall stand stillIn fear our motion will be mocked or carped at,We should take root here where we sit,Or sit state-statues only.KING.Things done well,And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;Things done without example, in their issueAre to be feared. Have you a precedentOf this commission? I believe, not any.We must not rend our subjects from our lawsAnd stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?A trembling contribution! Why, we takeFrom every tree lop, bark, and part o’ t’ timber,And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked,The air will drink the sap. To every countyWhere this is questioned send our letters withFree pardon to each man that has deniedThe force of this commission. Pray, look to’t;I put it to your care.WOLSEY.[Aside to his Secretary.] A word with you.Let there be letters writ to every shireOf the King’s grace and pardon. The grieved commonsHardly conceive of me. Let it be noisedThat through our intercession this revokementAnd pardon comes. I shall anon advise youFurther in the proceeding.[ExitSecretary.]EnterSurveyor.QUEEN KATHERINE.I am sorry that the Duke of BuckinghamIs run in your displeasure.KING.It grieves many.The gentleman is learned and a most rare speaker;To nature none more bound; his training suchThat he may furnish and instruct great teachersAnd never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,When these so noble benefits shall proveNot well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,They turn to vicious forms, ten times more uglyThan ever they were fair. This man so complete,Who was enrolled ’mongst wonders, and when we,Almost with ravished list’ning, could not findHis hour of speech a minute—he, my lady,Hath into monstrous habits put the gracesThat once were his, and is become as blackAs if besmeared in hell. Sit by us. You shall hear—This was his gentleman in trust—of himThings to strike honour sad. Bid him recountThe fore-recited practices, whereofWe cannot feel too little, hear too much.WOLSEY.Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,Most like a careful subject, have collectedOut of the Duke of Buckingham.KING.Speak freely.SURVEYOR.First, it was usual with him—every dayIt would infect his speech—that if the KingShould without issue die, he’ll carry it soTo make the sceptre his. These very wordsI’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law,Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menacedRevenge upon the Cardinal.WOLSEY.Please your Highness, noteThis dangerous conception in this point,Not friended by his wish to your high personHis will is most malignant, and it stretchesBeyond you to your friends.QUEEN KATHERINE.My learned Lord Cardinal,Deliver all with charity.KING.Speak on.How grounded he his title to the crown?Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard himAt any time speak aught?SURVEYOR.He was brought to thisBy a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.KING.What was that Henton?SURVEYOR.Sir, a Chartreux friar,His confessor, who fed him every minuteWith words of sovereignty.KING.How know’st thou this?SURVEYOR.Not long before your Highness sped to France,The Duke being at the Rose, within the parishSaint Laurence Poultney, did of me demandWhat was the speech among the LondonersConcerning the French journey. I replied,Men fear the French would prove perfidious,To the King’s danger. Presently the DukeSaid ’twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted’Twould prove the verity of certain wordsSpoke by a holy monk, “that oft,” says he,“Hath sent to me, wishing me to permitJohn de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hourTo hear from him a matter of some moment;Whom after under the confession’s sealHe solemnly had sworn that what he spokeMy chaplain to no creature living butTo me should utter, with demure confidenceThis pausingly ensued: ‘Neither the King nor’s heirs,Tell you the Duke—shall prosper. Bid him striveTo gain the love o’ th’ commonalty. The DukeShall govern England.’”QUEEN KATHERINE.If I know you well,You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your officeOn the complaint o’ th’ tenants. Take good heedYou charge not in your spleen a noble personAnd spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed—Yes, heartily beseech you.KING.Let him on.Go forward.SURVEYOR.On my soul, I’ll speak but truth.I told my lord the Duke, by th’ devil’s illusionsThe monk might be deceived, and that ’twas dangerousFor him to ruminate on this so far untilIt forged him some design, which, being believed,It was much like to do. He answered, “Tush,It can do me no damage,” adding furtherThat had the King in his last sickness failed,The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s headsShould have gone off.KING.Ha! What, so rank? Ah ha!There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?SURVEYOR.I can, my liege.KING.Proceed.SURVEYOR.Being at Greenwich,After your Highness had reproved the DukeAbout Sir William Bulmer—KING.I rememberOf such a time, being my sworn servant,The Duke retained him his. But on. What hence?SURVEYOR.“If,” quoth he, “I for this had been committed,”As to the Tower, I thought, “I would have playedThe part my father meant to act uponTh’ usurper Richard who, being at Salisbury,Made suit to come in ’s presence; which if granted,As he made semblance of his duty, wouldHave put his knife into him.”KING.A giant traitor!WOLSEY.Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom,And this man out of prison?QUEEN KATHERINE.God mend all.KING.There’s something more would out of thee. What sayst?SURVEYOR.After “the Duke his father,” with “the knife,”He stretched him, and with one hand on his dagger,Another spread on ’s breast, mounting his eyes,He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenourWas, were he evil used, he would outgoHis father by as much as a performanceDoes an irresolute purpose.KING.There’s his period,To sheathe his knife in us. He is attached.Call him to present trial. If he mayFind mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none,Let him not seek ’t of us. By day and night,He’s traitor to th’ height![Exeunt.]SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace.EnterLord ChamberlainandLord Sandys.CHAMBERLAIN.Is’t possible the spells of France should juggleMen into such strange mysteries?SANDYS.New customs,Though they be never so ridiculous—Nay, let ’em be unmanly—yet are followed.CHAMBERLAIN.As far as I see, all the good our EnglishHave got by the late voyage is but merelyA fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones,For when they hold ’em, you would swear directlyTheir very noses had been counsellorsTo Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.SANDYS.They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,That never saw ’em pace before, the spavinOr springhalt reigned among ’em.CHAMBERLAIN.Death! My lord,Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t,That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.EnterSir Thomas Lovell.How now?What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?LOVELL.Faith, my lord,I hear of none but the new proclamationThat’s clapped upon the court gate.CHAMBERLAIN.What is’t for?LOVELL.The reformation of our travelled gallantsThat fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.CHAMBERLAIN.I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our monsieursTo think an English courtier may be wiseAnd never see the Louvre.LOVELL.They must either,For so run the conditions, leave those remnantsOf fool and feather that they got in France,With all their honourable points of ignorancePertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,Abusing better men than they can beOut of a foreign wisdom, renouncing cleanThe faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel,And understand again like honest men,Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it,They may,cum privilegio, ouiawayThe lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.SANDYS.’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseasesAre grown so catching.CHAMBERLAIN.What a loss our ladiesWill have of these trim vanities!LOVELL.Ay, marry,There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresonsHave got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.SANDYS.The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,For sure, there’s no converting of ’em. NowAn honest country lord, as I am, beatenA long time out of play, may bring his plainsongAnd have an hour of hearing, and, by ’r Lady,Held current music too.CHAMBERLAIN.Well said, Lord Sandys.Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.SANDYS.No, my lord,Nor shall not while I have a stump.CHAMBERLAIN.Sir Thomas,Whither were you a-going?LOVELL.To the Cardinal’s.Your lordship is a guest too.CHAMBERLAIN.O, ’tis true.This night he makes a supper, and a great one,To many lords and ladies. There will beThe beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.LOVELL.That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us.His dews fall everywhere.CHAMBERLAIN.No doubt he’s noble;He had a black mouth that said other of him.SANDYS.He may, my lord; has wherewithal. In himSparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.Men of his way should be most liberal;They are set here for examples.CHAMBERLAIN.True, they are so,But few now give so great ones. My barge stays.Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir 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.SANDYS.I am your lordship’s.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. A Hall in York Place.Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enterAnne Bullenand divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door. At another door enterSir Henry Guildford.GUILDFORD.Ladies, a general welcome from his GraceSalutes ye all. This night he dedicatesTo fair content and you. None here, he hopes,In all this noble bevy has brought with herOne care abroad. He would have all as merryAs, first, good company, good wine, good welcomeCan make good people.EnterLord Chamberlain, Lord SandysandSir Thomas Lovell.O, my lord, you’re tardy.The very thought of this fair companyClapped wings to me.CHAMBERLAIN.You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.SANDYS.Sir Thomas Lovell, had the CardinalBut half my lay thoughts in him, some of theseShould find a running banquet ere they rested,I think would better please ’em. By my life,They are a sweet society of fair ones.LOVELL.O, that your lordship were but now confessorTo one or two of these!SANDYS.I would I were.They should find easy penance.LOVELL.Faith, how easy?SANDYS.As easy as a down bed would afford it.CHAMBERLAIN.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 placed together makes cold weather.My Lord Sandys, you are one will keep ’em waking.Pray, sit between these ladies.SANDYS.By my faith,And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies.If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;I had it from my father.ANNE.Was he mad, sir?SANDYS.O, very mad, exceeding mad in love too;But he would bite none. Just as I do now,He would kiss you twenty with a breath.[Kisses her.]CHAMBERLAIN.Well said, my lord.So, now you’re fairly seated. gentlemen,The penance lies on you if these fair ladiesPass away frowning.SANDYS.For my little cure,Let me alone.Hautboys. EnterCardinal Wolseyand takes his state.WOLSEY.You’re welcome, my fair guests. That noble ladyOr gentleman that is not freely merryIs not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome;And to you all, good health.[Drinks.]SANDYS.Your Grace is noble.Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanksAnd save me so much talking.WOLSEY.My Lord Sandys,I am beholding to you. Cheer your neighbours.Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen,Whose fault is this?SANDYS.The red wine first must riseIn their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have ’emTalk us to silence.ANNE.You are a merry gamester,My Lord Sandys.SANDYS.Yes, if I make my play.Here’s to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,For ’tis to such a thing—ANNE.You cannot show me.SANDYS.I told your Grace they would talk anon.[Drum and trumpet. Chambers discharged.]WOLSEY.What’s that?CHAMBERLAIN.Look out there, some of ye.[ExitServant.]WOLSEY.What warlike voice,And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not.By all the laws of war you’re privileged.EnterServant.CHAMBERLAIN.How now, what is’t?SERVANT.A noble troop of strangers,For so they seem. They’ve left their barge and landed,And hither make, as great ambassadorsFrom foreign princes.WOLSEY.Good Lord Chamberlain,Go, give ’em welcome—you can speak the French tongue—And pray receive ’em nobly, and conduct ’emInto our presence, where this heaven of beautyShall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.[ExitChamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables removed.]You have now a broken banquet, but we’ll mend it.A good digestion to you all; and once moreI shower a welcome on ye. Welcome all!Hautboys. EnterKingand others as masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by theLord Chamberlain. They pass directly before theCardinaland gracefully salute him.A noble company! What are their pleasures?CHAMBERLAIN.Because they speak no English, thus they prayedTo tell your Grace: that having heard by fameOf this so noble and so fair assemblyThis night to meet here, they could do no less,Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct,Crave leave to view these ladies and entreatAn hour of revels with ’em.WOLSEY.Say, Lord Chamberlain,They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay ’emA thousand thanks and pray ’em take their pleasures.[The masquers choose ladies. TheKingchoosesAnne Bullen.]KING.The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty,Till now I never knew thee.[Music. Dance.]WOLSEY.My lord!CHAMBERLAIN.Your Grace?WOLSEY.Pray tell ’em thus much from me:There should be one amongst ’em, by his personMore worthy this place than myself, to whom,If I but knew him, with my love and dutyI would surrender it.CHAMBERLAIN.I will, my lord.[Whispers with the Masquers.]WOLSEY.What say they?CHAMBERLAIN.Such a one they all confessThere is indeed, which they would have your GraceFind out, and he will take it.WOLSEY.Let me see, then.By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I’ll makeMy royal choice.KING.[Unmasking.] Ye have found him, Cardinal.You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord.You are a churchman, or I’ll tell you, Cardinal,I should judge now unhappily.WOLSEY.I am gladYour Grace is grown so pleasant.KING.My Lord Chamberlain,Prithee come hither. What fair lady’s that?CHAMBERLAIN.An’t please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen’s daughter,The Viscount Rochford, one of her Highness’ women.KING.By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,I were unmannerly to take you outAnd not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!Let it go round.WOLSEY.Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet readyI’ th’ privy chamber?LOVELL.Yes, my lord.WOLSEY.Your Grace,I fear, with dancing is a little heated.KING.I fear, too much.WOLSEY.There’s fresher air, my lord,In the next chamber.KING.Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,I must not yet forsake you. Let’s be merry,Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healthsTo drink to these fair ladies, and a measureTo lead ’em once again, and then let’s dreamWho’s best in favour. Let the music knock it.[Exeunt with trumpets.]
Enter theDuke of Norfolkat one door; at the other, theDuke of Buckinghamand theLord Abergavenny.
BUCKINGHAM.Good morrow, and well met. How have ye doneSince last we saw in France?
NORFOLK.I thank your Grace,Healthful, and ever since a fresh admirerOf what I saw there.
BUCKINGHAM.An untimely agueStayed me a prisoner in my chamber whenThose suns of glory, those two lights of men,Met in the vale of Andren.
NORFOLK.’Twixt Guynes and Arde.I was then present, saw them salute on horseback,Beheld them when they lighted, how they clungIn their embracement, as they grew together—Which had they, what four throned ones could have weighedSuch a compounded one?
BUCKINGHAM.All the whole timeI was my chamber’s prisoner.
NORFOLK.Then you lostThe view of earthly glory. Men might say,Till this time pomp was single, but now marriedTo one above itself. Each following dayBecame the next day’s master, till the lastMade former wonders its. Today the French,All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,Shone down the English; and tomorrow, theyMade Britain India: every man that stoodShowed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages wereAs cherubins, all gilt. The madams too,Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bearThe pride upon them, that their very labourWas to them as a painting. Now this masqueWas cried incomparable; and th’ ensuing nightMade it a fool and beggar. The two kings,Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,As presence did present them: him in eye,Still him in praise; and being present both,’Twas said they saw but one, and no discernerDurst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns—For so they phrase ’em—by their heralds challengedThe noble spirits to arms, they did performBeyond thought’s compass, that former fabulous story,Being now seen possible enough, got credit,That Bevis was believed.
BUCKINGHAM.O, you go far.
NORFOLK.As I belong to worship and affectIn honour honesty, the tract of everythingWould by a good discourser lose some life,Which action’s self was tongue to. All was royal;To the disposing of it nought rebelled;Order gave each thing view; the office didDistinctly his full function.
BUCKINGHAM.Who did guide,I mean, who set the body and the limbsOf this great sport together, as you guess?
NORFOLK.One, certes, that promises no elementIn such a business.
BUCKINGHAM.I pray you who, my lord?
NORFOLK.All this was ordered by the good discretionOf the right reverend Cardinal of York.
BUCKINGHAM.The devil speed him! No man’s pie is freedFrom his ambitious finger. What had heTo do in these fierce vanities? I wonderThat such a keech can with his very bulkTake up the rays o’ th’ beneficial sunAnd keep it from the earth.
NORFOLK.Surely, sir,There’s in him stuff that puts him to these ends;For, being not propped by ancestry, whose graceChalks successors their way, nor called uponFor high feats done to th’ crown; neither alliedTo eminent assistants, but spider-like,Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us noteThe force of his own merit makes his wayA gift that heaven gives for him, which buysA place next to the King.
ABERGAVENNY.I cannot tellWhat heaven hath given him—let some graver eyePierce into that—but I can see his pridePeep through each part of him. Whence has he that?If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,Or has given all before, and he beginsA new hell in himself.
BUCKINGHAM.Why the devil,Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,Without the privity o’ th’ King, t’ appointWho should attend on him? He makes up the fileOf all the gentry, for the most part suchTo whom as great a charge as little honourHe meant to lay upon; and his own letter,The honourable board of council out,Must fetch him in he papers.
ABERGAVENNY.I do knowKinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haveBy this so sickened their estates that neverThey shall abound as formerly.
BUCKINGHAM.O, manyHave broke their backs with laying manors on ’emFor this great journey. What did this vanityBut minister communication ofA most poor issue?
NORFOLK.Grievingly I thinkThe peace between the French and us not valuesThe cost that did conclude it.
BUCKINGHAM.Every man,After the hideous storm that followed, wasA thing inspired and, not consulting, brokeInto a general prophecy, that this tempest,Dashing the garment of this peace, abodedThe sudden breach on’t.
NORFOLK.Which is budded out,For France hath flawed the league, and hath attachedOur merchants’ goods at Bordeaux.
ABERGAVENNY.Is it thereforeTh’ ambassador is silenced?
NORFOLK.Marry, is’t.
ABERGAVENNY.A proper title of a peace, and purchasedAt a superfluous rate!
BUCKINGHAM.Why, all this businessOur reverend Cardinal carried.
NORFOLK.Like it your Grace,The state takes notice of the private differenceBetwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you—And take it from a heart that wishes towards youHonour and plenteous safety—that you readThe Cardinal’s malice and his potencyTogether; to consider further thatWhat his high hatred would effect wants notA minister in his power. You know his nature,That he’s revengeful, and I know his swordHath a sharp edge; it’s long, and ’t may be saidIt reaches far, and where ’twill not extend,Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel;You’ll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rockThat I advise your shunning.
EnterCardinal Wolsey, the purse borne before him, certain of the Guard and twoSecretarieswith papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye onBuckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.
WOLSEY.The Duke of Buckingham’s surveyor, ha?Where’s his examination?
SECRETARY.Here, so please you.
WOLSEY.Is he in person ready?
SECRETARY.Ay, please your Grace.
WOLSEY.Well, we shall then know more, and BuckinghamShall lessen this big look.
[ExeuntCardinal Wolseyand his train.]
BUCKINGHAM.This butcher’s cur is venom-mouthed, and IHave not the power to muzzle him; therefore bestNot wake him in his slumber. A beggar’s bookOutworths a noble’s blood.
NORFOLK.What, are you chafed?Ask God for temp’rance. That’s the appliance onlyWhich your disease requires.
BUCKINGHAM.I read in ’s looksMatter against me, and his eye reviledMe as his abject object. At this instantHe bores me with some trick. He’s gone to th’ King.I’ll follow, and outstare him.
NORFOLK.Stay, my lord,And let your reason with your choler questionWhat ’tis you go about. To climb steep hillsRequires slow pace at first. Anger is likeA full hot horse, who being allowed his way,Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in EnglandCan advise me like you; be to yourselfAs you would to your friend.
BUCKINGHAM.I’ll to the King,And from a mouth of honour quite cry downThis Ipswich fellow’s insolence, or proclaimThere’s difference in no persons.
NORFOLK.Be advised.Heat not a furnace for your foe so hotThat it do singe yourself. We may outrunBy violent swiftness that which we run at,And lose by over-running. Know you not,The fire that mounts the liquor till ’t run o’er,In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised.I say again, there is no English soulMore stronger to direct you than yourself,If with the sap of reason you would quench,Or but allay the fire of passion.
BUCKINGHAM.Sir,I am thankful to you, and I’ll go alongBy your prescription; but this top-proud fellow—Whom from the flow of gall I name not, butFrom sincere motions—by intelligence,And proofs as clear as founts in July whenWe see each grain of gravel, I do knowTo be corrupt and treasonous.
NORFOLK.Say not “treasonous.”
BUCKINGHAM.To th’ King I’ll say’t, and make my vouch as strongAs shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,Or wolf, or both—for he is equal ravenousAs he is subtle, and as prone to mischiefAs able to perform’t, his mind and placeInfecting one another, yea, reciprocally—Only to show his pomp as well in FranceAs here at home, suggests the King our masterTo this last costly treaty, th’ interview,That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glassDid break i’ th’ rinsing.
NORFOLK.Faith, and so it did.
BUCKINGHAM.Pray give me favour, sir. This cunning CardinalThe articles o’ th’ combination drewAs himself pleased; and they were ratifiedAs he cried “Thus let be,” to as much endAs give a crutch to the dead. But our Count-CardinalHas done this, and ’tis well, for worthy Wolsey,Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows—Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppyTo the old dam treason—Charles the Emperor,Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt—For ’twas indeed his colour, but he cameTo whisper Wolsey—here makes visitation.His fears were that the interview betwixtEngland and France might through their amityBreed him some prejudice, for from this leaguePeeped harms that menaced him. He privilyDeals with our Cardinal, and, as I trow—Which I do well, for I am sure the EmperorPaid ere he promised, whereby his suit was grantedEre it was asked. But when the way was madeAnd paved with gold, the Emperor thus desiredThat he would please to alter the King’s courseAnd break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,As soon he shall by me, that thus the CardinalDoes buy and sell his honour as he pleasesAnd for his own advantage.
NORFOLK.I am sorryTo hear this of him, and could wish he wereSomething mistaken in’t.
BUCKINGHAM.No, not a syllable.I do pronounce him in that very shapeHe shall appear in proof.
EnterBrandon, aSergeant-at-armsbefore him, and two or three of the Guard.
BRANDON.Your office, sergeant: execute it.
SERGEANT.Sir,My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and EarlOf Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, IArrest thee of high treason, in the nameOf our most sovereign King.
BUCKINGHAM.Lo you, my lord,The net has fall’n upon me. I shall perishUnder device and practice.
BRANDON.I am sorryTo see you ta’en from liberty, to look onThe business present. ’Tis his Highness’ pleasureYou shall to th’ Tower.
BUCKINGHAM.It will help nothingTo plead mine innocence, for that dye is on meWhich makes my whit’st part black. The will of heavenBe done in this and all things. I obey.O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well.
BRANDON.Nay, he must bear you company.[To Abergavenny.] The KingIs pleased you shall to th’ Tower, till you knowHow he determines further.
ABERGAVENNY.As the Duke said,The will of heaven be done, and the King’s pleasureBy me obeyed.
BRANDON.Here is warrant fromThe King t’ attach Lord Montague, and the bodiesOf the Duke’s confessor, John de la Car,One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor—
BUCKINGHAM.So, so;These are the limbs o’ th’ plot. No more, I hope?
BRANDON.A monk o’ th’ Chartreux.
BUCKINGHAM.O, Nicholas Hopkins?
BRANDON.He.
BUCKINGHAM.My surveyor is false. The o’er-great CardinalHath showed him gold. My life is spanned already.I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,Whose figure even this instant cloud puts onBy dark’ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell.
[Exeunt.]
Cornets. EnterKing Henry, leaning on theCardinal’sshoulder, the Nobles, andSir Thomas Lovell; the Cardinal places himself under the King’s feet on his right side.
KING.My life itself, and the best heart of it,Thanks you for this great care. I stood i’ th’ levelOf a full-charged confederacy, and give thanksTo you that choked it. Let be called before usThat gentleman of Buckingham’s; in personI’ll hear his confessions justify,And point by point the treasons of his masterHe shall again relate.
A noise within crying “Room for the Queen!” EnterQueen Katherine, ushered by theDuke of Norfolkand theDuke of Suffolk. She kneels. TheKingriseth from his state, takes her up and kisses her.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.
KING.Arise, and take place by us.
[He placeth her by him.]
Half your suitNever name to us; you have half our power;The other moiety ere you ask is given.Repeat your will and take it.
QUEEN KATHERINE.Thank your Majesty.That you would love yourself, and in that loveNot unconsidered leave your honour norThe dignity of your office, is the pointOf my petition.
KING.Lady mine, proceed.
QUEEN KATHERINE.I am solicited, not by a few,And those of true condition, that your subjectsAre in great grievance. There have been commissionsSent down among ’em which hath flawed the heartOf all their loyalties; wherein, although,My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproachesMost bitterly on you as putter-onOf these exactions, yet the King our master,Whose honour heaven shield from soil, even he escapes notLanguage unmannerly, yea, such which breaksThe sides of loyalty, and almost appearsIn loud rebellion.
NORFOLK.Not “almost appears,”It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,The clothiers all, not able to maintainThe many to them longing, have put offThe spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,Unfit for other life, compelled by hungerAnd lack of other means, in desperate mannerDaring the event to th’ teeth, are all in uproar,And danger serves among them.
KING.Taxation?Wherein? And what taxation? My Lord Cardinal,You that are blamed for it alike with us,Know you of this taxation?
WOLSEY.Please you, sir,I know but of a single part in aughtPertains to th’ state, and front but in that fileWhere others tell steps with me.
QUEEN KATHERINE.No, my lord?You know no more than others? But you frameThings that are known alike, which are not wholesomeTo those which would not know them, and yet mustPerforce be their acquaintance. These exactionsWhereof my sovereign would have note, they areMost pestilent to the hearing, and to bear ’em,The back is sacrifice to the load. They sayThey are devised by you, or else you sufferToo hard an exclamation.
KING.Still exaction!The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know,Is this exaction?
QUEEN KATHERINE.I am much too venturousIn tempting of your patience, but am boldenedUnder your promised pardon. The subjects’ griefComes through commissions, which compels from eachThe sixth part of his substance, to be leviedWithout delay; and the pretence for thisIs named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths.Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freezeAllegiance in them. Their curses nowLive where their prayers did; and it’s come to passThis tractable obedience is a slaveTo each incensed will. I would your HighnessWould give it quick consideration, forThere is no primer business.
KING.By my life,This is against our pleasure.
WOLSEY.And for me,I have no further gone in this than byA single voice, and that not passed me butBy learned approbation of the judges. If I amTraduced by ignorant tongues, which neither knowMy faculties nor person, yet will beThe chronicles of my doing, let me say’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brakeThat virtue must go through. We must not stintOur necessary actions in the fearTo cope malicious censurers, which ever,As ravenous fishes, do a vessel followThat is new-trimmed, but benefit no furtherThan vainly longing. What we oft do best,By sick interpreters, once weak ones, isNot ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft,Hitting a grosser quality, is cried upFor our best act. If we shall stand stillIn fear our motion will be mocked or carped at,We should take root here where we sit,Or sit state-statues only.
KING.Things done well,And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;Things done without example, in their issueAre to be feared. Have you a precedentOf this commission? I believe, not any.We must not rend our subjects from our lawsAnd stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?A trembling contribution! Why, we takeFrom every tree lop, bark, and part o’ t’ timber,And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked,The air will drink the sap. To every countyWhere this is questioned send our letters withFree pardon to each man that has deniedThe force of this commission. Pray, look to’t;I put it to your care.
WOLSEY.[Aside to his Secretary.] A word with you.Let there be letters writ to every shireOf the King’s grace and pardon. The grieved commonsHardly conceive of me. Let it be noisedThat through our intercession this revokementAnd pardon comes. I shall anon advise youFurther in the proceeding.
[ExitSecretary.]
EnterSurveyor.
QUEEN KATHERINE.I am sorry that the Duke of BuckinghamIs run in your displeasure.
KING.It grieves many.The gentleman is learned and a most rare speaker;To nature none more bound; his training suchThat he may furnish and instruct great teachersAnd never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,When these so noble benefits shall proveNot well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt,They turn to vicious forms, ten times more uglyThan ever they were fair. This man so complete,Who was enrolled ’mongst wonders, and when we,Almost with ravished list’ning, could not findHis hour of speech a minute—he, my lady,Hath into monstrous habits put the gracesThat once were his, and is become as blackAs if besmeared in hell. Sit by us. You shall hear—This was his gentleman in trust—of himThings to strike honour sad. Bid him recountThe fore-recited practices, whereofWe cannot feel too little, hear too much.
WOLSEY.Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,Most like a careful subject, have collectedOut of the Duke of Buckingham.
KING.Speak freely.
SURVEYOR.First, it was usual with him—every dayIt would infect his speech—that if the KingShould without issue die, he’ll carry it soTo make the sceptre his. These very wordsI’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law,Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menacedRevenge upon the Cardinal.
WOLSEY.Please your Highness, noteThis dangerous conception in this point,Not friended by his wish to your high personHis will is most malignant, and it stretchesBeyond you to your friends.
QUEEN KATHERINE.My learned Lord Cardinal,Deliver all with charity.
KING.Speak on.How grounded he his title to the crown?Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard himAt any time speak aught?
SURVEYOR.He was brought to thisBy a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.
KING.What was that Henton?
SURVEYOR.Sir, a Chartreux friar,His confessor, who fed him every minuteWith words of sovereignty.
KING.How know’st thou this?
SURVEYOR.Not long before your Highness sped to France,The Duke being at the Rose, within the parishSaint Laurence Poultney, did of me demandWhat was the speech among the LondonersConcerning the French journey. I replied,Men fear the French would prove perfidious,To the King’s danger. Presently the DukeSaid ’twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted’Twould prove the verity of certain wordsSpoke by a holy monk, “that oft,” says he,“Hath sent to me, wishing me to permitJohn de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hourTo hear from him a matter of some moment;Whom after under the confession’s sealHe solemnly had sworn that what he spokeMy chaplain to no creature living butTo me should utter, with demure confidenceThis pausingly ensued: ‘Neither the King nor’s heirs,Tell you the Duke—shall prosper. Bid him striveTo gain the love o’ th’ commonalty. The DukeShall govern England.’”
QUEEN KATHERINE.If I know you well,You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your officeOn the complaint o’ th’ tenants. Take good heedYou charge not in your spleen a noble personAnd spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed—Yes, heartily beseech you.
KING.Let him on.Go forward.
SURVEYOR.On my soul, I’ll speak but truth.I told my lord the Duke, by th’ devil’s illusionsThe monk might be deceived, and that ’twas dangerousFor him to ruminate on this so far untilIt forged him some design, which, being believed,It was much like to do. He answered, “Tush,It can do me no damage,” adding furtherThat had the King in his last sickness failed,The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s headsShould have gone off.
KING.Ha! What, so rank? Ah ha!There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?
SURVEYOR.I can, my liege.
KING.Proceed.
SURVEYOR.Being at Greenwich,After your Highness had reproved the DukeAbout Sir William Bulmer—
KING.I rememberOf such a time, being my sworn servant,The Duke retained him his. But on. What hence?
SURVEYOR.“If,” quoth he, “I for this had been committed,”As to the Tower, I thought, “I would have playedThe part my father meant to act uponTh’ usurper Richard who, being at Salisbury,Made suit to come in ’s presence; which if granted,As he made semblance of his duty, wouldHave put his knife into him.”
KING.A giant traitor!
WOLSEY.Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom,And this man out of prison?
QUEEN KATHERINE.God mend all.
KING.There’s something more would out of thee. What sayst?
SURVEYOR.After “the Duke his father,” with “the knife,”He stretched him, and with one hand on his dagger,Another spread on ’s breast, mounting his eyes,He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenourWas, were he evil used, he would outgoHis father by as much as a performanceDoes an irresolute purpose.
KING.There’s his period,To sheathe his knife in us. He is attached.Call him to present trial. If he mayFind mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none,Let him not seek ’t of us. By day and night,He’s traitor to th’ height!
[Exeunt.]
EnterLord ChamberlainandLord Sandys.
CHAMBERLAIN.Is’t possible the spells of France should juggleMen into such strange mysteries?
SANDYS.New customs,Though they be never so ridiculous—Nay, let ’em be unmanly—yet are followed.
CHAMBERLAIN.As far as I see, all the good our EnglishHave got by the late voyage is but merelyA fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones,For when they hold ’em, you would swear directlyTheir very noses had been counsellorsTo Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
SANDYS.They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,That never saw ’em pace before, the spavinOr springhalt reigned among ’em.
CHAMBERLAIN.Death! My lord,Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t,That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.
EnterSir Thomas Lovell.
How now?What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
LOVELL.Faith, my lord,I hear of none but the new proclamationThat’s clapped upon the court gate.
CHAMBERLAIN.What is’t for?
LOVELL.The reformation of our travelled gallantsThat fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
CHAMBERLAIN.I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our monsieursTo think an English courtier may be wiseAnd never see the Louvre.
LOVELL.They must either,For so run the conditions, leave those remnantsOf fool and feather that they got in France,With all their honourable points of ignorancePertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,Abusing better men than they can beOut of a foreign wisdom, renouncing cleanThe faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel,And understand again like honest men,Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it,They may,cum privilegio, ouiawayThe lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.
SANDYS.’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseasesAre grown so catching.
CHAMBERLAIN.What a loss our ladiesWill have of these trim vanities!
LOVELL.Ay, marry,There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresonsHave got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
SANDYS.The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,For sure, there’s no converting of ’em. NowAn honest country lord, as I am, beatenA long time out of play, may bring his plainsongAnd have an hour of hearing, and, by ’r Lady,Held current music too.
CHAMBERLAIN.Well said, Lord Sandys.Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.
SANDYS.No, my lord,Nor shall not while I have a stump.
CHAMBERLAIN.Sir Thomas,Whither were you a-going?
LOVELL.To the Cardinal’s.Your lordship is a guest too.
CHAMBERLAIN.O, ’tis true.This night he makes a supper, and a great one,To many lords and ladies. There will beThe beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.
LOVELL.That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us.His dews fall everywhere.
CHAMBERLAIN.No doubt he’s noble;He had a black mouth that said other of him.
SANDYS.He may, my lord; has wherewithal. In himSparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.Men of his way should be most liberal;They are set here for examples.
CHAMBERLAIN.True, they are so,But few now give so great ones. My barge stays.Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir 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.
SANDYS.I am your lordship’s.
[Exeunt.]
Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enterAnne Bullenand divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door. At another door enterSir Henry Guildford.
GUILDFORD.Ladies, a general welcome from his GraceSalutes ye all. This night he dedicatesTo fair content and you. None here, he hopes,In all this noble bevy has brought with herOne care abroad. He would have all as merryAs, first, good company, good wine, good welcomeCan make good people.
EnterLord Chamberlain, Lord SandysandSir Thomas Lovell.
O, my lord, you’re tardy.The very thought of this fair companyClapped wings to me.
CHAMBERLAIN.You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.
SANDYS.Sir Thomas Lovell, had the CardinalBut half my lay thoughts in him, some of theseShould find a running banquet ere they rested,I think would better please ’em. By my life,They are a sweet society of fair ones.
LOVELL.O, that your lordship were but now confessorTo one or two of these!
SANDYS.I would I were.They should find easy penance.
LOVELL.Faith, how easy?
SANDYS.As easy as a down bed would afford it.
CHAMBERLAIN.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 placed together makes cold weather.My Lord Sandys, you are one will keep ’em waking.Pray, sit between these ladies.
SANDYS.By my faith,And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies.If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;I had it from my father.
ANNE.Was he mad, sir?
SANDYS.O, very mad, exceeding mad in love too;But he would bite none. Just as I do now,He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
[Kisses her.]
CHAMBERLAIN.Well said, my lord.So, now you’re fairly seated. gentlemen,The penance lies on you if these fair ladiesPass away frowning.
SANDYS.For my little cure,Let me alone.
Hautboys. EnterCardinal Wolseyand takes his state.
WOLSEY.You’re welcome, my fair guests. That noble ladyOr gentleman that is not freely merryIs not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome;And to you all, good health.
[Drinks.]
SANDYS.Your Grace is noble.Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanksAnd save me so much talking.
WOLSEY.My Lord Sandys,I am beholding to you. Cheer your neighbours.Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen,Whose fault is this?
SANDYS.The red wine first must riseIn their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have ’emTalk us to silence.
ANNE.You are a merry gamester,My Lord Sandys.
SANDYS.Yes, if I make my play.Here’s to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam,For ’tis to such a thing—
ANNE.You cannot show me.
SANDYS.I told your Grace they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpet. Chambers discharged.]
WOLSEY.What’s that?
CHAMBERLAIN.Look out there, some of ye.
[ExitServant.]
WOLSEY.What warlike voice,And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not.By all the laws of war you’re privileged.
EnterServant.
CHAMBERLAIN.How now, what is’t?
SERVANT.A noble troop of strangers,For so they seem. They’ve left their barge and landed,And hither make, as great ambassadorsFrom foreign princes.
WOLSEY.Good Lord Chamberlain,Go, give ’em welcome—you can speak the French tongue—And pray receive ’em nobly, and conduct ’emInto our presence, where this heaven of beautyShall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
[ExitChamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables removed.]
You have now a broken banquet, but we’ll mend it.A good digestion to you all; and once moreI shower a welcome on ye. Welcome all!
Hautboys. EnterKingand others as masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by theLord Chamberlain. They pass directly before theCardinaland gracefully salute him.
A noble company! What are their pleasures?
CHAMBERLAIN.Because they speak no English, thus they prayedTo tell your Grace: that having heard by fameOf this so noble and so fair assemblyThis night to meet here, they could do no less,Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct,Crave leave to view these ladies and entreatAn hour of revels with ’em.
WOLSEY.Say, Lord Chamberlain,They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay ’emA thousand thanks and pray ’em take their pleasures.
[The masquers choose ladies. TheKingchoosesAnne Bullen.]
KING.The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty,Till now I never knew thee.
[Music. Dance.]
WOLSEY.My lord!
CHAMBERLAIN.Your Grace?
WOLSEY.Pray tell ’em thus much from me:There should be one amongst ’em, by his personMore worthy this place than myself, to whom,If I but knew him, with my love and dutyI would surrender it.
CHAMBERLAIN.I will, my lord.
[Whispers with the Masquers.]
WOLSEY.What say they?
CHAMBERLAIN.Such a one they all confessThere is indeed, which they would have your GraceFind out, and he will take it.
WOLSEY.Let me see, then.By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I’ll makeMy royal choice.
KING.[Unmasking.] Ye have found him, Cardinal.You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord.You are a churchman, or I’ll tell you, Cardinal,I should judge now unhappily.
WOLSEY.I am gladYour Grace is grown so pleasant.
KING.My Lord Chamberlain,Prithee come hither. What fair lady’s that?
CHAMBERLAIN.An’t please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen’s daughter,The Viscount Rochford, one of her Highness’ women.
KING.By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart,I were unmannerly to take you outAnd not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen!Let it go round.
WOLSEY.Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet readyI’ th’ privy chamber?
LOVELL.Yes, my lord.
WOLSEY.Your Grace,I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
KING.I fear, too much.
WOLSEY.There’s fresher air, my lord,In the next chamber.
KING.Lead in your ladies, every one. Sweet partner,I must not yet forsake you. Let’s be merry,Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healthsTo drink to these fair ladies, and a measureTo lead ’em once again, and then let’s dreamWho’s best in favour. Let the music knock it.
[Exeunt with trumpets.]