Westminster. A Street. |
|
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting. |
First Gent. Whither away so fast? |
Sec. Gent. O! God save ye. |
E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become |
Of the great Duke of Buckingham. |
First Gent. I'll save you |
That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony |
Of bringing back the prisoner. |
Sec. Gent. Were you there? |
First Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. |
Sec. Gent. Pray speak what has happen'd. |
First Gent. You may guess quickly what. |
Sec. Gent. Is he found guilty? |
First Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't. |
Sec. Gent. I am sorry for 't. |
First Gent. So are a number more. |
Sec. Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it? |
First Gent. I'll 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, vivâ voce, to his face: |
At which appear'd against him his surveyor; |
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car, |
Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, |
Hopkins, that made this mischief. |
Sec. Gent. That was he |
That fed him with his prophecies? |
First 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. |
Sec. Gent. After all this how did he bear himself? |
First Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, to hear |
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd |
With such an agony, he sweat extremely, |
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty: |
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly |
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. |
Sec. Gent. I do not think he fears death. |
First Gent. Sure, he does not; |
He never was so womanish; the cause |
He may a little grieve at. |
Sec. Gent. Certainly |
The cardinal is the end of this. |
First 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. |
Sec. Gent. That trick of state |
Was a deep envious one. |
First 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. |
Sec. 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;— |
First Gent. Stay there, sir, |
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. |
|
Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side: with him SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDS, and common people. |
Sec. 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. |
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, |
'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. |
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; |
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. |
Vaux. 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 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 welov'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. |
Farewell: |
And when you would say something that is sad, |
Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me! [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train. |
First Gent. O! this is full of pity! Sir, it calls, |
I fear, too many curses on their heads |
That were the authors. |
Sec. Gent. If the duke be guiltless, |
'Tis full of woe; yet I can give you inkling |
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, |
Greater than this. |
First Gent. Good angels keep it from us! |
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? |
Sec. Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require |
A strong faith to conceal it. |
First Gent. Let me have it; |
I do not talk much. |
Sec. Gent. I am confident: |
You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear |
A buzzing of a separation |
Between the king and Katharine? |
First 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. |
Sec. 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. |
First Gent. 'Tis 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. |
Sec. Gent. I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel |
That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal |
Will have his will, and she must fall. |
First Gent. 'Tis woeful. |
We are too open here to argue this; |
Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. |
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