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!

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 subject's 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 nam'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,
That tractable obedience is a slave

To each incensed will. I would, your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer business.

K. Hen. By my life,

This is against our pleasure.

Wol. And for me,

I have no further gone in this, than by

A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but

By learned approbation of the judges.

If I am traduc'd by 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, aud 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 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 root 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! 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,
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. A word with you.

[To the Secretary.

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 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 so cómplete,
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 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'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.

Wol. 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.

Q. Kath. My learn'd lord cardinal,

Deliver all with charity.

K. Hen. 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?

Suro. He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
K. Hen. What was that Hopkins?

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor; who fed him every minute

With words of sovereignty.

K. Hen. How know'st thou this?

Suro. 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 among 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 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 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 commonality; the duke
Shall govern England.

Q. Kath. If I know you well,

You were the duke's

and lost surveyor,

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 him on :

Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.

I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions

The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangʼrous

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!

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.

K. Hen. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!