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Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart

Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
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 make my grave.
Commend me to his grace;

And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him,
You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him: May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

Lov. To the water side I must conduct your grace:
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.


Prepare there, The duke is coming; see the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suits

The greatness of his person.


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 them one day groan

for 't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!

Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
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 lov'd most;
A most unnatural and faithless service!

Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,
Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

Like water from ye, never found again

But where they mean to sink ye. All good people,
Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.


And when you would say something that is sad,

Speak how I fell.-I have done; and God forgive me! [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train. 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!-Sir, it calls,

I fear, too many curses on their heads

That were the authors.

2 Gent.

If the duke be guiltless,

'T is full of woe: yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,

Greater than this.

1 Gent.

Good angels keep it from us!

What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 't will require A strong faith to conceal it.

1 Gent.

Let me have it:

I do not talk much.

2 Gent.

I am confident;

You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear

A buzzing, of a separation

Between the king and Katharine?

1 Gent.

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 rumour, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it.

2 Gent.

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 arriv'd, and lately;
As all think, for this business.

1 Gent.

'T is the cardinal;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor,
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark: But is 't not


That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal

Will have his will, and she must fall.

1 Gent.

We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

*T is woful.


SCENE II.—An Antechamber in the Palace.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. Cham.

"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 nortli. 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 serv'd before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our months, sir."

I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.

Nor. Well met, my lord chamberlain.
Cham. Good day to both your grâces.
Suf. How is the king employ'd?

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

I left him private,

What's the canse?

Nor. Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience.


No, his conscience

"T is so:

Has crept too near another lady.
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.
Suf. Pray God he do! he 'll never know himself

Nor. 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? Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'T is

most true

These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks them,

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.


And free us from Iris slavery.

Nor. 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.

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 are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the pope.

Let's in;
And, with some other business, put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon


My lord, you'll bear us company?


Excuse me

The king hath sent me other-where besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him:
Health to your lordships.

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

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