Cham. 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.-Sweet

heart,

I were unmannerly, to take you out,

[To ANNE BULLen.

And not to kiss you.-A health, gentlemen,

Let it go round.

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

Lov. Yes, my lord.

Wol. Your grace,
I fear, is a little heated.
King. I fear, too much.

Wol. There's fresher air, my lord,

In the next chamber.

King. Lead in your ladies, every one.-Nay, come; I must not yet forsake you :-Let's be merry ;Good my lord cardinal, I've half a dozen healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure

To lead them once again;

Which being ended, they shall all go sleep:
Then this, which doth a happy vision seem,
May be again repeated in a dream.

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.]

[Exeunt WOLSEY, with lights, the King and ANNE BULLEN, Chamberlain, NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK, Lord SANDS, and Lady DENNY, CROMWELL, two Pages, LovEL and GUILDFORD, and the rest of the Guests.

f

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Street.

A Bell tolls, and muffled Drums beat.

Enter Guards, Tipstaves, LovEL, Executioner, BUCK-
INGHAM, GUILDFORD, Gentlemen, and Guards.

Buck. You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.
I have this day receiv'd 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.

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:-[Bell tolls. ]-Lead on.
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 Lovel, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven.

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 me,
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.

Guil. Prepare there;

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 Henry,

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:

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: 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 :-
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 you. [The Bell tolls.] All good people,

Pray for me! I must now forsake you; the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me.

Farewell:

5

And when

you would say something that is sad, Remember Buckingham.

[The Bell tolls-Muffled Drums beat.]

[Exeunt Guards, Tipstaves, Executioner, BUCKINGHAM, LoveL, GUILDFORD, Gentlemen, and Guards.

SCENE II.

An Antechamber in the Palace.

Enter NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK, meeting the Chamberlain.
Nor. Well met, my lord chamberlain.
Cham. Good day to both your graces.
Suf. How is the king employ'd?
Cham. I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Nor. What's the cause?

Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife

Has crept too near his conscience.

Suf. No, his conscience

Has crept too near another lady.

Nor. 'Tis so;

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal :

That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him one day..
Suf. 'Pray heaven he do! he'll never know himself
else.

Nor. We had need pray,

And heartily, for our deliverance;

Or this imperious man will work us all

From princes into pages. Let us 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 ?

Cham. Excuse me;

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

Health to your lordships.

Suf. Sce, the king.

[Exit Chamberlain.

Enter the King, reading pensively.

How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted.
King. Who's there? ha?

Nor. 'Pray heaven, he be not angry.

King. Who's there, I say? How dare you yourselves

Into my private meditations?

Who am I? ha?

thrust

Nor. 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: You are too bold;

Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business; Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?

Enter 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.-You're welcome,
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom;

Use us, and it:-My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.

King. We are busy; go.

Nor. This priest has no pride in him?

Suf. Not to speak of;

I would not be so sick though, for his place:

But this cannot continue.

Nor. If it do,

I'll venture one heave at him.

Aside.

[Exeunt SUFFOLK, and NORFOLk.

Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom

Above all princes, in committing freely

Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: