Things that are known alike, which are not

wholesome
To those which would not know them and yet

must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing ; and, to bear 'em,
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

K. Hen. Still exaction 1

The nature of it ? In what kind, let 's know,
Is this exaction ?

Q. Kath. I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience, but am bolden'd
Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects' grief
Comes through commissions, which compel from

each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay ; and the pretence for this
Is nara'd, 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 pi imer business.



Kiii<i: llenrv VIII

K. Ilcn. By my life,

This is against our pleasure.

Wol. And for me,

I have no further gone in this than l)y
A single voice, and that not pass'd me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
Traduo'd by ignorant tongues, which neither

know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The chi'onicles 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 censures; which ever, [cope with
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new trimm'd, but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters — once weak ones — is
Not ours, or not allow'd ; 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 mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take i-oot here where we sit, or sit
State-statues only.

K. Hen. Things done well,

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear ;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. 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 1 Why, we take
From every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber ;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To every county

370



Act I Scene 2

Where this is question'd, 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.

Wol. [Aside to the Secretm-y] A word with you.
Let there be letters writ to every shire,
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd

commons
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.

Enter Surveyor,

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 insti'uct 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 so complete.
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when

we.
Almost with ravish'd listening, 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 —

271



King Henry VIII



This was his gentleman in trust — of him
Things to sti-ike honour sjul. — Bid him 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.

K. Hen. Speak freely.

Surv. 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 Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge \ipou the cardinal.

Wol. Please yoiu' 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.

Q. Kath. My learn 'd lord cardinal,

Deliver all with charity.

K. lien. 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 ?

Siirv. He was bi-ought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.

K. Hen. What was that Hopkins ?

Sui'v. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor ; who fed him every minute
W^ith words of sovereignty.

K. Hen. How know'st thou this ?

Sui'v. Not long before your highness sped to
France,

273



Act I Scene 2

The duke, being at the Rose within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey. I replied,
Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the dvike
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' the commonalty : the duke
Shall govern England.'

Q. Kath. If I know you well,

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o' the 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.

K. Hen. Let hina on. —

Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I '11 speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas

dangerous for him
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 !

7 S 273



Kino: Heiirv VIII



•&



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 oft".

A'. Jlen. Ha ! what, so rank ? Ah, ha I

There 's mischief in this man.— Canst thou say
further?
Surv. I can, my liege.
K. Hen. Proceed.

Siirv. Being at Greenwich,

After youi- highness had reprov'd the duke
Ahout Sir William Blomer,—

K. Hen. I remember

Of such a time ; being my sworn servant.
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,— I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbury,
Madesuittocomein'spresence; which if granted.
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.'
^- 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: whatsay'st?
Surv. After 'the duke his father,' with 'the
knife,'

Hestretch'dhim,and,withonehandonhisdagger,
Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes.
He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour
Was,— were he evil us'd, he would outgo

274



Act I Scene o

His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresohite purpose.

K. Hen. There 's his period,

To sheathe 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. [Exeu7it.

Scene 3.— A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Saudn.
Cham. Is't possible the spells of France
should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries ?

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are foUow'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 [a grimace or two

ai'e 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.
Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones ;
one would take it.
That never saw "em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.

Cham. Death ! my lord.

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too.
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. —

How now ?
What news. Sir Thomas Lovell ?

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
Lov. Faith, my lord,

I hear of none but the new proclamation

27s



Kin*;- Henry VIII



That's rlappd upon the court-gate.

(Jhaw. What is 't for?

Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
That fill t he court with quarrels, talk, and tailors,

Cham. I 'ni glad 'tis there ; now I would pray
our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.

Lov. 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 blister'd* breeches, and those [puffed
types* of travel, (marks

And understand again like honest men.
Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it,
They may, cn77i j^J'^irilrcjio, wear Jiway
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.

Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their
diseases
Are grown so Catching.

Cham. What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities !

Lov. 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.

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they're

For, sure, there 's no converting of 'em ; now.
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten

276



Act I Scene 3

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. [i.e. huve it held

Cham. Well said, Lord Sands ;

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands. No, my lord ;

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a-going?

Lov. To the cardinal's.

Your lordship is a guest too.

Cham. 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 '11 assure you.

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind
indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
His dews fall every where.

Cham. No doubt, lie 's noble ;

He had a black mouth that said other of him.

Sands. 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,

Cham. True, they are so ;

Bvit 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 T was spoke to, with Sir Henry (iuildford,
This night to be coinptrollei's.

Sands. I am your lordship's.

[E.veunt,

277



King Henry VIII

Scene 4.— The Presence-chamber in York-place.
IJmithoys. A small table tindn' a state for the
Cardinal, a longer table for the guests ; then
enter Anne Bullen, and divers Ladies,
and Gentlemen, as guests, at one door; at
another door enter Sir Henry Guildford.
Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his
grace
Salutes ye all ; this night he dedicates
I'o 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 peojjle.— O my lord! you're
tardy ;

Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir

Thomas Lovell.
The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.

Cham. You .are young. Sir Harry Guildford.

Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a i-unning* banquet ere they iimsty

rested,
I think would better please 'em ; by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now
confessor
To one or two of these !

Sa7ids. I would I were ;

They should find easy penance.

Lov. Faith, how easy ?

Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it.

Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?—

Sir Harry,

278



Act I Scene 4

Place you that side, I '11 take the charge of this ;
His grace is enteinng. Nay, you must not freeze ;
Two women plac'd together makes cold

weather. —
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em

waking ;
Pray, sit between these ladies.

Sands. By my faith,

And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet
ladies. [Seats himself behceen Aivne

Bullen and another lady.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me ;
I had it from my father.
Anne. Was he mad, sir ?

Sands. 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.
Cham. Well said, my lord.

So now you're fairly seated. — Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cure.

Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended,
and takes his state.

Wol. Ye '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.

Sands. Your grace is noble ;

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks.
And save me so much talking,

279



King Henry VIII



Wol. My Lord Sands,

I am beholding to you ; rheor your neighbours. —
Ladies, you nre not merry ; — gentlemen,
Whose fault is this ?

SdiirJs. The red wine first must rise

In their fair cheeks, my loid ; tlien we shall

have 'em
Talk us to silence.

Ainie. You are a merry gamester.

My Lord Sands.

Snufls. Yes, if I make my play.

Here's to your ladyship ; and pledge it, madam.
For 'tis to such a thing, —

An7ie. Y'ou cannot show me.

SanrJs. I told your grace they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpets uithin : chambers*

discharged, [small cannon

Wol. What's that?

Cham. Look out there, some of ye.

[Ej^it a Servant.

Wol. What warlike voice.

And to what end is this ?— Nay, ladies, fear not ;
By all the laws of war ye 're privileg'd.

Servant retiims.

Cham. How now 1 what is 't ?
Serv. 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.

Wol. 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

380



Act I Scene 4

Shall shine at full upon them.— Some attend him.

[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise,

and the tables are 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 the King and others, as

maskers, habited like Shepherds, ushered by

. the Lord Chamberlain. They i?ass directly

before the Cardinal, a7id gracefidly salute

him.

A noble company ! what are their pleasures ?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus
they pray'd
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.

Wol. Say, lord chamberlain.

They have done my poor house grace ; for which

I pay 'em
A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their
pleasures. [Ladies chosen f 07^ the dance.
The King inkes Anne Bvllen.
K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd. O
beauty,
Till now I never knew thee ! [Mttsic. Dance.
Wol. My lord,—
Cham. Your grace ?

Wol. Pray tell 'em thus much from me ;



Kiiiji' llcnrv Vlll



o



Tliere should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
jMoio woilliy tliis plfico than myself; to whom,
If I l)ut kiH-w liiiu, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.

Cham. I will, my lord.

[C/iamberlain (jocs to the maskers, and reiuiiis.
Wol. What say they ?

(Itam. iSuL'h a one, they all confess,

There is indeed ; which they would have your

gi-aee
Find out, and he will take it.

Wol. Let me see then.

[Covies from his state.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen ; here I '11

make
My royal choice.
K. Hen. You have found him, cardinal.

[ Unmasks.
You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lortl.
You are a churchman, or, I '11 tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.

^yi^l. I am glad

Your grace is grown so pleasant.

K. Hen. My lord chamberlain,

Prithee, come hither. What fair lady 's that ?
Cham. An't please your grace. Sir Thomas
Bullen's daughter.
The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness'
women.
K. Hen. 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.

Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I' the privy chamber?

282



Act II Scene 1

Lov. Yes, my lord.

Wol. Your grace,

I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

K. Hen. I fear, too much.

Wol. There 's fresher air, ray lord,

In the next chamber.

K. Hen. 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 measvxre
To lead 'em once again ; and then let 's dream
Who's best in favour.— Let the music knock it.

[Exeunt tvith trxunpets.



ACT IL

Scene 1. — A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1st Gent. Whither away so fast ?

2nd Gent. * O, God save ye I

Even to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.

Ist Gent. I '11 save you

That labour, sir. All's now done, but the

ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.

2nxl Gent. Were you there ?

Ist Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.

2nd Gent. Pray, speak what has happen'd.

1st Gent. You may guess quickly what.

2nd Gent. Is he found guilty ?

1st Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd

upon 't.

283



Kinj? Henry VIII

2nd Gent. I am sorrj' for 't.
\st Gent. So are a number more.

2nd Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?
1st Gent. I 'II tell you in a little. The great
duke
Came to the bar, where to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses, which the duke desir'd
To have brought viva voce to his face :
At which appear'd against him his surveyor ;
Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor ; and John ('ar,
Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief,

2nd Gent. That was he

That fed him with his prophecies?

1st Gent. The same.

All these accus'd 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.
2nd Gent. After all this, how did he bear him-
self?
Ist Gent. When he was brought again to the
bar, to hear
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
W^ith such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And sometliing spoke in choler, ill and hasty ;
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
2nd Gent. I do not think he fears death.

284



Act II Scene 1

1st Gent. Sure, he does not ;

He was never so womanish : the cause
He may a Httle grieve at.

2nd Gent. Certainly,

The cardinal is the end of this.

1st Gent. 'Tis likely,

By all conjectures : first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.

2nd Gent. That trick of state

Was a deep envious one,

Is^ Gent. 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.

27id Gent. 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, —

1st Gent. Stay there, sir ;

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

Enter Buckingham from his arraignment ;
Tipstaves before him ; the axe, ivith the
edge toioards him; Halberds on each side;
accompanied ivith Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir
Nicholas Vauoc, Sir William Sands, and
Common People.

2nd Gent. Let 's stand close, and behold him.

Buck. All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me.
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me,

28s



King Hciirv VIII

I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
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,
'Thas 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

lov'd 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.
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 mark my grave. Commend me to his

grace ;
\i\d, if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him,

286



Act II Scene 1

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 I
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be I
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.

Vaxix. Prepare there I

The duke is coming ; see the barge be ready,
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.

Buck. 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 EJdward

Bohun ;
Yet I am richer than my base acciasers.
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 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, tmly 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

287



Kino^ llenry VTTT

That make me happy, at one stroke has taken