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KING HENRY VIII.
SCENE I. London. An antechamber in the Palace.
Enter the Duke of Norfolk, at one door; at the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Abergavenny.
GOOD-morrow, and well met. How have you
Since last we saw in France?
I thank your grace: Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer Of what I saw there.
An untimely ague Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men*, Met in the vale of Arde.
'Twixt Guynes and Arde: I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
* Henry VIII. and Francis I. king of France.
In their embracement, as they grew together; Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have
Such a compounded one?
All the whole time
I was my chamber's prisoner.
Then you lost The view of earthly glory: Men might say, Till this time, pomp was single; but now married To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day's master, till the last Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French, All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English: and, to-morrow, they Made Britain, India: every man, that stood, Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubims, all gilt: the madams too, Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting: now this mask Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them; him in eye, Still him in praise: and, being present both, 'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censuret. When these suns (For so they phrase them), by their heralds challeng'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
+ In opinion, which was most noble.
In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
Who did guide,
Nor. One, certes*, that promises no elementt In such a business.
I pray you, who, my lord? Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend cardinal of York.
Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is free'd From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fiercet vanities? I wonder, That such a keech § can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.
I cannot tell
What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that?
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard;
Or has given all before, and he begins
Why the devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have By this so sicken'd their estates, that never They shall abound as formerly.
Have broke their backs with laying manors on them
A most poor issue?
Grievingly I think, The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it.
Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
The ambassador is silenc'd?
Aber. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd At a superfluous rate!
Is it therefore
Why, all this business
+ Sets down in his letter without consulting the council.