Second Gentleman
Is he found guilty?
First Gentleman
Yes, truly is he, and condemn’d upon’t.
Second Gentleman
I am sorry for’t.
First Gentleman
So are a number more.
Second Gentleman
But, pray, how pass’d it?
First Gentleman
I’ll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty and alleged
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king’s attorney on the contrary
Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired
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.
Second Gentleman
That was he
That fed him with his prophecies?
First Gentleman
The same.
All these accused 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.
Second Gentleman
After all this, how did he bear himself?
First Gentleman
When he was brought again to the bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr’d
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show’d a most noble patience.
Second Gentleman
I do not think he fears death.
First Gentleman
Sure, he does not:
He never was so womanish; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
Second Gentleman
Certainly
The cardinal is the end of this.
First Gentleman
’Tis likely,
By all conjectures: first, Kildare’s attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who removed,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
Second Gentleman
That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
First Gentleman
At his return
No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally, whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
Second Gentleman
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;—
First Gentleman
Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin’d man you speak of.
Enter Buckingham from his arraignment; tip-staves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side: accompanied with Lovell, Vaux, Sands, and common people
Second Gentleman
Let’s stand close, and behold him.
Buckingham
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 received a traitor’s judgment,
And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness,
And if I have a co nscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!
The law I bear no malice for my death;
’T has done, upon the premises, but justice:
But those that sought it I could wish more Christians:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive ’em:
Yet let ’em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against ’em.
For further life in this world I ne’er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
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.
Lovell
I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buckingham
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all;
There cannot be those numberless offences
’Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: no black envy
Shall mark 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 beloved and loving may his rule be!
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!
Lovell
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.
Buckingham
Nay, Sir Nicholas,
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 ’em 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 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,
Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
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 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,
Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!
Exeunt Buckingham and Train
First Gentleman
O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their beads
That were the authors.
Second Gentleman
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.
First Gentleman
Good angels keep it from us!
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
Second Gentleman
This secret is so weighty, ’twill require
A strong faith to conceal it.
First Gentleman
Let me have it;
I do not talk much.
Second Gentleman
I am confident,
You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine?
First Gentleman
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.
Second Gentleman
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, possess’d him with a scruple
That will undo her: to confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately;
As all think, for this business.
First Gentleman
’Tis the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.
Second Gentleman
I think you have hit the mark: but is’t not cruel
That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.
First Gentleman
’Tis woful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let’s think in private more.
Exeunt
SCENE II. AN ANTE-CHAMBER IN THE PALACE.
Enter Chamberlain, reading a letter
Chamberlain
‘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, to Chamberlain, Norfolk and Suffolk
Norfolk
Well met, my lord chamberlain.
Chamberlain
Good day to both your graces.
Suffolk
How is the king employ’d?
Chamberlain
I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Norfolk
What’s the cause?
Chamberlain
It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
Suffolk
No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
Norfolk
’Tis so:
This is the cardinal’s doing, the king-cardinal:
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he list. The king will know him one day.
Suffolk
Pray God he do! he’ll never know himself else.
Norfolk
How holily he works in all his business!
And with what zeal! for, now he has crack’d the league
Between us and the emperor, the queen’s great nephew,
He dives into the king’s soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage:
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?
Chamberlain
Heaven keep me from such counsel! ’Tis most true
These news are every where; every tongue speaks ’em,
And every true heart weeps for’t: all that dare
Look into these affairs see this main end,
The French king’s sister. Heaven will one day open
The king’s eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.
Suffolk
And free us from his slavery.
Norfolk
We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages: all men’s honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion’d
Into what pitch he please.
Suffolk
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’re breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the pope.
Norfolk
Let’s in;
And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:
My lord, you’ll bear us company?
Chamberlain
Excuse me;
The king has sent me otherwhere: besides,
You’ll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.
Norfolk
Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.
Exit Chamberlain; and King Henry VIII draws the curtain, and sits reading pensively
Suffolk
How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
King Henry VIII
Who’s there, ha?
Norfolk
Pray God he be not angry.
King Henry VIII
Who’s there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations?
Who am I? ha?
Norfolk
A gracious king that pardons all offences
Malice ne’er meant: our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
King Henry VIII
Ye are too bold:
Go to; I’ll make ye know your times of business:
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?
Enter Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius, with a commission
> Who’s there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a king.
To Cardinal Campeius
You’re welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom:
Use us and it.
To Cardinal Wolsey
My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.
Cardinal Wolsey
Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
King Henry VIII
[To Norfolk and Suffolk]
We are busy; go.
Norfolk
[Aside to Suffolk]
This priest has no pride in him?
Suffolk
[Aside to Norfolk] Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick though for his place:
But this cannot continue.
Norfolk
[Aside to Suffolk] If it do,
I’ll venture one have-at-him.
Suffolk
[Aside to Norfolk] I another.
Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk
Cardinal Wolsey
Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom:
Who can be angry now? what envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms
Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius;
Whom once more I present unto your highness.
King Henry VIII
And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves:
They have sent me such a man I would have wish’d for.
Cardinal Campeius
Your grace must needs deserve all strangers’ loves,
You are so noble. To your highness’ hand
I tender my commission; by whose virtue,
The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join’d with me their servant
In the unpartial judging of this business.
King Henry VIII
Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where’s Gardiner?
Cardinal Wolsey
I know your majesty has always loved her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law:
Scholars allow’d freely to argue for her.
King Henry VIII
Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour
To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal,
Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary:
Complete Plays, The Page 229
