—this Buck. Pray give me favour, Sir this cunning Cardinal The articles o' th' combination drew As himself pleas'd; and they were ratify'd As he cry'd, let it be to as much end, But our b Court-Cardinal Has done this, and 'tis well-for worthy Wolfey, Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, (Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy To th'old dam, treafon) Charles the Emperor, Under pretence to fee the Queen his aunt, (For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolfey) here makes vifitation: His fears were, that the interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed him fome prejudice; for from this league Peep'd harms that menac'd him. He privily Deals with our Cardinal, and as I trow, Which I do well- for I am fure the Emperor Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his fuit was granted Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made, And pav'd with gold; the Emp'ror thus defir'd, That he would please to alter the King's course, And break the forefaid peace. Let the King know, (As foon he fhall by me) that thus the Cardinal Does buy and fell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage. As give a crutch to th' dead. Nor. I am forry To hear this of him; and could wish you were Buck. No, not a fyllable: I do pronounce him in that very shape He fhall appear in proof. SCENE III. Enter Brandon, a ferjeant at arms before him; and two or three of the guard. Bran. Your office, Serjeant; execute it. b count. Serj. Serj. Sir, My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl Buck. Lo you, my lord, The net has fall'n upon me; I fhall per Bran. I am forry To fee you ta'en from liberty, to look on You fhall to th' Tower. 'Tis his Highness pleasure Buck. It will help me nothing To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me, Which makes my whit'ft part black. The will of heav'n Be done in this and all things: I obey. O my lord Aberganny, fare ye well. Bran. Nay, he must bear you company. The King Is pleas'd you fhall to the Tower, 'till you know How he determines further. Aber. As the Duke faid, The will of heav'n be done, and the King's pleafur By me obey'd. Bran. Here is a warrant from The King, t'attach lord Mantague, and the bodies Of the Duke's confeffor, John de la Car, And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor. Buck. So, fo; These are the limbs o'th' plot: no more, I hope! Buck. Nicholas Hopkins? Bran. He. Buck. My furveyor is falfe, the o'er-great Cardinal Hath fhew'd him gold; my life is fpann'd already: I am the fhadow of poor Buckingham, Whofe figure ev'n this inftant cloud puts on, By dark'ning my clear fun, My lord, farewel; [Exe SCENE SCENE IV. Cornet. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal's King. MY life it felf, and the beft heart of it, i'th' level Of a full charg'd confed'racy, and give thanks And point by point the treafons of his master A noife, with crying, Room for the Queen. Usher'd by Queen. Nay, we must longer kneel, I am a fuitor Queen. Thank your Majefty. That you would love your felf, and in that love The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition. King. Lady mine, proceed. Queen. I am follicited, not by a few, And thofe of true condition, that your fubjects Are in great grievance. There have been commiffions (My (My good lord Cardinal) they vent reproaches Of these exactions, yet the King our mafter Nor. Not almost appears, It doth appear; for upon these taxations, King. Taxation?: Wherein and what taxation? my lord Cardinal, Know you of this taxation? Wol. Please you, Sir, I know but of a single part in ought Pertains to th' ftate, and front but in that file Where others tell fteps with me.. Queen. No, my lord, 1 You know no more than others: but you frame King. Still exaction! * The nature of it, in what kind let's know Queen. I am much too vent'rous Comes Comes through commiffions, which compel from each Is nam'd your wars in France. This makes bold mouths; Live where their pray'rs did; and it's come to pass,. To each incenfed will. I would your Highnefs. King. By my life, This is against our pleasure.. I have no further gone in this, than by ? If I'm traduc'd by tongues, which neither know The chronicles of my doing; let me fay, To cope malicious cenfures; which ever, That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further King. Things done well And with a care, exempt themselves from fear : And |