But those that sought it, I could wish more christians: Be what they will, I heartily forgive them: Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies me, 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 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. There cannot be those numberless offences And, when old time shall lead him to his end, 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, 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. Farewel! And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive me! [Exeunt Buckingham and Train. 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!—Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads, That were the authors. 2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless, 'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this. 1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us! What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it. 1 Gent. I do not talk much. 2 Gent. Let me have it; I am confident; You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear A buzzing, of a separation Between the king and Katharine? 1 Gent. Yes, but it held not; For when the king once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the lord mayor, straight To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it. 2 Gent. But that slander, sir, Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain, Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately; 1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his asking, The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is't not cruel, That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall. 1 Gent. We are too open here to argue this; "Tis woful. [Exeunt. SCENE II. AN ANTECHAMBER IN THE PALACE. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. Cham. My lord,-The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young, and handsome; and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason,―His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king: which stopp'd our mouths, sir. I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let him have them; He will have all, I think. I left him private, What's the cause? Suf. How is the king employ'd? Full of sad thoughts and troubles. Nor. Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suf. Has crept too near another lady. No, his conscience |