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Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd,
That, through our intercession, this revokement
And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding. . [Exit Secretary.
Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure. .
K. Hen.. . It grieves many : The gentleman is learn'd, 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 dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man sa complete, Who was enroll’d 'mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravish'd 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 besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear (This was his gentleman in trust), of him .' Things to strike honour sad.Bid lim recount The fore-recited practices; whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what you,
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham,
Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, That if the king
Should witbout issue die, he'd carry it so
To make the sceptre his : These very words
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.
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.
My learn'd lord cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.
How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught?
He was brought to this: By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
K. Hen. What was that Hopkins?
Sir, a Chartreux friar,
His confessor; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.
How know'st thou this?
Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France,
The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech amongst the Londoners
Concerning the French journey : I replied,
Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubled,
"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 Court, 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 ensu’d,–Neither the king, nor his heirs,
(Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive
To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke
Shall govern England.
If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o’the tenants: Take good lieed,
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you.
'Hi. ' Let him on:Go forward.
Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord the dủke, By the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang'rous
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush! .
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.
Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha! There's mischief in this man ;--Canst thou say further?
Surv. I can, my liege.
Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reprov'd the duke About sir William Blomer, . K. Hen.
I remember Of such a time :-Being my servant sworn, The duke retain'd him his. But on; What hence?
Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed, As, to the Tower, I thought,-) would have play'd The part my father meant to act upon The usurper Richard : who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him. K. Hen.
A giant traitor! Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison? Q. Kath.
God mend all! K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee;
Surv. After--the duke his father,--with the knife,-
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on his breast, inounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour
Was --Were he evil usd, he would out-go
His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.
There's his period,
To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd :
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 the height
SCENE 111. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain and LORD SANDS.
Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English:
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely
A fit or two o'the face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold them, you would swear directly,
Their very noses bad been counsellors
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.
Sands. They have all new legs, and Jame ones; one
would take it,
That never saw them pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt reign’d among them.
Death! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they have worn out Christendom. How now?
What news, sir Thomas Lovell?
Enter Sir Thomas LOVELL.
'Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
What is't for?
Lov. The reformation of our travell’d gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Cham. I am glad, 'tis there ; now I would pray our
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
They must either
(For so run the conditions) leave these 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 blister'd 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, wear away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. 'Tis time to give them physic, their diseases Are grown so catching. | Cham.
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
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. [ing
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they're go-
(For, sure, there's no converting of them); now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have an hour of hearing; and, by’r lady,
Held current music too.
Well said, lord Sands;
Your coll's tooth is not cast yet.
* No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Sir Thomas, Whither were you a going? Lov.
To the cardinalis ; Your lordship is a guest too.