Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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
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  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: