Imatges de pÓgina
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Such a compounded one?
Buck. All the whole time

I was my chamber's prisoner.
Nor. Then you loft

The view of earthly glory: men might fay
'Till this time pomp was fingle, but now marry'd
To one above it felf. Each following day
Became the next day's mafter, 'till the laft
Made former wonders, its. 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,
Shew'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As Cherubins, 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 thenfuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two Kings
Equal in luftre, were now beft, now worst,
As prefence did prefent them; him in eye,
Still him in praife; and being prefent both,
'Twas faid they faw but one, and no difcerner
Durft wag his tongue in cenfure. When thefe funs,
(For fo they phrafe 'em) by their heralds, challeng'd
The noble fpirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass, that old fabulous ftory
(Being now feen poffible enough) got credit;
That Bevis was believ'd.

Buck. Oh, you go far!

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour, honefty; the tract of every thing
Would by a good difcourfer lose some life,
Which action's felf was tongue to.

Buck. All was royal;

To the difpofing of it nought rebell'd,
Order gave each thing view. The office did
Distinctly his full function. Who did guide,
I mean, who fet the body and the limbs

The old romantic legend of Bevis of Southampton.

Of

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Of this great sport together, as you guess?
Nor. One fure, that promifes no * element
In fuch a bufinefs.

Buck. Pray you, who, my lord?

Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right rev'rend Cardinal of York.

Buck. The devil speed him: no man's pye is freed From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder That fuch a†ketch can with his very bulk Take up the rays o'th' beneficial fun, And keep it from the earth.

Nor. Yet furely, Sir,

There's in him ftuff that puts him to these ends :
For being not propt by ancestry, whofe grace
Chalks fucceffors their way; nor call'd upon
For high feats done to th' crown; neither ally'd'
To eminent affiftants; but fpider-like,

Out of his felf-drawn web; this gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the King.

Aber. I cannot tell

What heav'n hath giv'n him; let some graver eye
Pierce into that: but I can fee his pride

Peep through each part of him; whence has he that,
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,
Or has giv'n all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.

Buck. Why the devil,

Upon this French going out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o' th' King, t'appoint
Who fhould attend him he makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the moft part fuch
To whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon: And his own letter
(The honourable board of council out)

A 4

Muft

*

no rudiment or beginning.

† ketch, from the Italian Caicchio, fignifyng a Tub, Barrel, or Hogshead. Skinner,

Muft fetch in him he *
Aber. I do know

papers.

Kinsmen of mine, three at the leaft, that have
By this fo ficken'd their eftates, that never
They fhall abound as formerly.

Buck. O many

Have broke their backs with laying mannors on 'em For this great journey. What did this great vanity, But minifter communication of

A moft poor iffue?

Nor. Grievingly, I think,

The peace between the French and us, not values
The coft that did conclude it.

Buck. Every Man,

After the hideous ftorm that follow'd, was
A thing infpir'd; and not confulting, broke
Into a general prophefie; that this tempeft,
Dafhing the garment of this peace, aboaded
The fudden breach on't.

Nor. Which is budded out:

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For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants goods at Bourdeaux.

Aber. Is it therefore

Th'ambaffador is filenc'd?

Nor. Marry is't.

Aber. A proper title of a peace, and purchas'd At a fuperfluous rate!

Buck. Why, all this business

Our rev'rend Cardinal carry'd.
Nor. Like it your Grace,

The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you
(And take it from a heart that wishes you
Honour and plenteous fafety) that you read
The Cardinal's malice and his potency
Together to confider further, that

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What

*he papers, a verb; His own letter, By bis own fingle authority, and without the concurrence of the Council, must fetch in Him whom he papers down, I don't understand it, unless this be the meaning.

What his high hatred would affect, wants not
A minister in his pow'r. You know his nature,
That he's revengeful, and I know his fword
Hath a fharp edge: it's long, and't may be faid,
It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bofom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholfome. Lo, where comes that rock
That I advise your fhunning.

SCENE II.

Enter Cardinal Wolfey, the purse born before him, cer tain of the guard, and two fecretaries with papers 5 the Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Bucking ham, and Buckingham on him, both full of difdain. Wol. The Duke of Buckingham's furveyor ? ha! Where's his examination?

Secr. Here, fo please you.

Wol. Is he in perfon ready?
Secr. Ay, an't please your Grace.
Wol. Well, we fhall then know more,
And Buckingham fhall leffen this big look.

[Exeunt Cardinal and his train. Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the pow'r to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his flumber. A beggar's book Out-worths a noble's blood.

Nor. What, are you chaf'd?

Ask God for temperance, that's th'appliance only
Which your difeafe requires.

Buck. I read in's looks

revil'd

Matter against me, and his eye
Me as his abje& obje&; at this inftant

He bores me with fome trick, he's gone to th' King 1
I'll follow and out-ftare him.

Nor. Stay, my lord,

What 'tis you go about.
Requires flow pace at firft.
A full-hot horfe, who being

And let your reafon with your choler question
To climb fteep hills
Anger is like
allow'd his way,
A 5

Self

Self-mettle tires him: Not a man in England
Can advise me, like you: be to your felf
As you would to your friend.
Buck. I'll to the King,

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipfwich fellow's infolence," or proclaim
There's diff'rence in no perfons.

Nor. Be advis'd;

Heat not a furnace for your foe fo hot
That it do finge your felf. We may out-run,
By violent fwiftnefs, that which we run at;
And lofe by over-running: know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor 'till't run o'er,
In feeming to augment it, waftes it be
Advis'd I fay again, there is no English
Soul ftronger to direct you than your
If with the fap of reafon you would quench,
Or but allay the fire of paffion.

felf,

Buck. Sir,

I'm thankful to you, and I'll go along

By your prefcription; but this top-proud fellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From fincere motions; by intelligence
And prrofs as clear as founts in July, when
We fee each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.

Nor. Say not, treasonous.

Buck. To th' King I'll fay't, and make my vouch as ftrong

As fhore of rock-attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both (for he is equal rav'nous
As he is fubtle, and as prone to mischief
As able to perform't) his mind and place.
Infecting one another; yea, reciprocally,
Only to fhew his pomp, as well in France
As here at home, fuggefts the King our master
To this last coftly treaty, th' interview,
That fwallow'd fo much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i'th' rinfing.

Nor. Faith, and fo it did.

Buck.

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