And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd Wol. A word with you. [To the Secretary. Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd com mons Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd, That through our intercession this revokement Enter Surveyor. [Exit Secretary. Q. Kath. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure. K. Hen. It grieves many : The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker, To nature none more bound; his training such That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear (This was his gentleman in trust) of him Things to strike honour sad.-Bid him recount The fore-recited practices; whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much. Wol. Stand forth; and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected K. Hen. Speak freely. Wol. Q. Kath. Deliver all with charity. K. Hen. My learn'd lord cardinal, Speak on: How grounded he his title to the crown, Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? Surv. By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton. He was brought to this Sir, a Chartreux friar, How know'st thou this? Surv. K. Hen. Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I replied, Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious, To the king's danger. Presently the duke Said, 'T was the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, To me, should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensued-Neither the king, nor his heirs, (Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke Q. Kath. K. Hen. Go forward. Let him on : On my soul, I'll speak but truth. (1 I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 't was dangerous for him To ruminate on this so far, until It forg'd him some design, which, being beliey'd, K. Hen. Ha! what so rank? Ah, ha! There's mischief in this man: Canst thou say further? Surv. I can, my liege. K. Hen. Proceed. Surv. Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reprov'd the duke K. Hen. I remember Of such a time-Being my sworn servant, The duke retain'd him his.- -But on; What hence? Surv. "If," quoth he, "I for this had been committed, As, to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, Have put his knife into him." K. Hen. A giant traitor! Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison? Q. Kath. God mend all! K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee? what say'st? Surv. After the duke his father," with "the knife," He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, His father, by as much as a performance K. Hen. To sheath his knife in us. There's his period, He is attach'd: Call him to present trial: if he may Find mercy in the law, 't is his; if none, Let him not seek 't of us: by day and night, Exeunt. SCENE III.-A Room in the Palace. Enter the Lord Chamberlain and LORD SANDS. Cham. Is 't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries? Sands. New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones; To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it, That never saw them pace before, the spavin, A springhalt reign'd among them. Cham. Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they have worn out christendom. How now? What news, sir Thomas Lovell? Lov. Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL. 'Faith, my lord, What is 't for? I hear of none, but the new proclamation Cham. Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Cham. I am glad 't is there; now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre. a Mysteries-artificial fashions. |