# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

## Part 85

Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md

KING. Still exaction! The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know, Is this exaction?

QUEEN KATHERINE. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience, but am boldened Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief Comes through commissions, which compels from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths. Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them. Their curses now Live where their prayers did; and it’s come to pass This tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. I would your Highness Would give it quick consideration, for There 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 by A single voice, and that not passed me but By learned approbation of the judges. If I am Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing, let me say ’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still In 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 issue Are to be feared. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any. 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’ t’ timber, And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked, The air will drink the sap. To every county Where this is questioned 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.

WOLSEY. [_Aside to his Secretary_.] A word with you. Let there be letters writ to every shire Of the King’s grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me. Let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding.

[_Exit Secretary._]

Enter Surveyor.

QUEEN KATHERINE. I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.

KING. It grieves many. The gentleman is learned 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. Yet see, When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well disposed, 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 enrolled ’mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravished list’ning, could not find His hour of speech a minute—he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmeared 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.

WOLSEY. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

KING. Speak freely.

SURVEYOR. First, it was usual with him—every day It would infect his speech—that if the King Should without issue die, he’ll carry it so To make the sceptre his. These very words I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced Revenge upon the Cardinal.

WOLSEY. 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.

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 him At any time speak aught?

SURVEYOR. He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.

KING. What was that Henton?

SURVEYOR. Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With 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 parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey. I replied, Men fear the French would prove perfidious, To the King’s danger. Presently the Duke Said ’twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted ’Twould 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’s heirs, Tell you the Duke—shall prosper. Bid him strive To gain the love o’ th’ commonalty. The Duke Shall govern England.’”

QUEEN KATHERINE. If I know you well, You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o’ th’ tenants. Take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And 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 illusions The monk might be deceived, and that ’twas dangerous For him to ruminate on this so far until It forged him some design, which, being believed, It was much like to do. He answered, “Tush, It can do me no damage,” adding further That had the King in his last sickness failed, The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Should 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 Duke About Sir William Bulmer—

KING. I remember Of 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 played The part my father meant to act upon Th’ usurper Richard who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in ’s presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have 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 tenour Was, were he evil used, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.

KING. There’s his period, To sheathe his knife in us. He is attached. Call him to present trial. If he may Find 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.

Enter Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys.

CHAMBERLAIN. Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle Men 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 English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones, For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counsellors To 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 spavin Or 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.

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.

How now? What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

LOVELL. Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation That’s clapped upon the court gate.

CHAMBERLAIN. What is’t for?

LOVELL. The reformation of our travelled gallants That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

CHAMBERLAIN. I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise And never see the Louvre.

LOVELL. They must either, For so run the conditions, leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, Abusing better men than they can be Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings, Short 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, oui_ away The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.

SANDYS. ’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.

CHAMBERLAIN. What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities!

LOVELL. Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresons Have 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. Now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong And 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 be The 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 him Sparing 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 enter Anne Bullen and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door. At another door enter Sir Henry Guildford.

GUILDFORD. Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all. This night he dedicates To fair content and you. None here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy has brought with her One care abroad. He would have all as merry As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome Can make good people.

Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sandys and Sir Thomas Lovell.

O, my lord, you’re tardy. The very thought of this fair company Clapped wings to me.

CHAMBERLAIN. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.

SANDYS. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these Should 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 confessor To 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 ladies Pass away frowning.

SANDYS. For my little cure, Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey and takes his state.

WOLSEY. You’re welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady Or gentleman that is not freely merry Is 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 thanks And 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 rise In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have ’em Talk 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.

[_Exit Servant._]

WOLSEY. What warlike voice, And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not. By all the laws of war you’re privileged.

Enter Servant.

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 ambassadors From foreign princes.

WOLSEY. Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give ’em welcome—you can speak the French tongue— And pray receive ’em nobly, and conduct ’em Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

[_Exit Chamberlain, 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 more I shower a welcome on ye. Welcome all!

Hautboys. Enter King and others as masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal and gracefully salute him.

A noble company! What are their pleasures?

CHAMBERLAIN. Because they speak no English, thus they prayed To tell your Grace: that having heard by fame Of this so noble and so fair assembly This night to meet here, they could do no less, Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct, Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat An hour of revels with ’em.

WOLSEY. Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay ’em A thousand thanks and pray ’em take their pleasures.

[_The masquers choose ladies. The King chooses Anne 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 person More worthy this place than myself, to whom, If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it.

CHAMBERLAIN. I will, my lord.

[_Whispers with the Masquers._]

WOLSEY. What say they?

CHAMBERLAIN. Such a one they all confess There is indeed, which they would have your Grace Find out, and he will take it.

WOLSEY. Let me see, then. By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I’ll make My 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 glad Your 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 out And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen! Let it go round.

WOLSEY. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready I’ 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 healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure To lead ’em once again, and then let’s dream Who’s best in favour. Let the music knock it.

[_Exeunt with trumpets._]

ACT II

SCENE I. Westminster. A street.

Enter two Gentlemen at several doors.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Whither away so fast?

SECOND GENTLEMAN. O, God save ye. Even to the Hall, to hear what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. I’ll save you That labour, sir. All’s now done but the ceremony Of bringing back the prisoner.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Were you there?

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, indeed, was I.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Pray speak what has happened.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. You may guess quickly what.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Is he found guilty?

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon’t.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. I am sorry for’t.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. So are a number more.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. But pray, how passed 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 appeared 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 th’ bar to hear His knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirred 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 showed 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.

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 Sandys and common people.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Stay there, sir, And see the noble ruined man you speak of.

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 judgement, And by that name must die; yet heaven bear witness, And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! The law I bear no malice for my death; ’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, i’ 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 th’ waterside 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.