That labour, sir. All 's now done, but the ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.

Much

Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not:
And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason.
He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten.

2 GENT. After all this, how did he bear himself?

1 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.

2 GENT. I do not think he fears death.

1 GENT.

Sure, he does not.

He never was so womanish; the cause

He may a little grieve at.

2 GENT.

Certainly

The cardinal is the end of this.

a This is usually pointed thus:-"Pray, speak, what has happened?" In the original, "to him brought."

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.

Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tipstaves before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDS, and common people.

1 GENT.

Stay there, sir,

And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. 2 GENT. Let's stand close, and behold him. Buck.

You that thus far have come to pity me,

All good people,

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,

It has done, upon the premises, but justice:

But those that sought it I could wish more christians:

Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:

Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;

For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.

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,

There are many similar instances in Shakspere of this construction;-for being here understood;-as in 'The Merchant of Venice:'

"How good a gentleman you sent relief” (to).

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 make 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 a,
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!

a Rowe here stuck in me-" till my soul forsake me." It is not difficult to see that Shakspere had a different metaphysical notion from that of his editors: the me places the individuality in the body alone.

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 we lov'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!

What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 GENT. This secret is so weighty, 't will require

A strong faith to conceal it.

a What may it be? All the modern editors, without any authority, read, "where may it be?"