ACT II. SCENE 1.

Westminster. A street

Enter two GENTLEMEN, at several doors

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Whither away so fast?
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. O, God save ye!
    Ev'n to the Hall, to hear what shall become
    Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll save you
    That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony
    Of bringing back the prisoner.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Were you there?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, indeed, was I.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Pray, speak what has happen'd.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. You may guess quickly what.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Is he found guilty?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I am sorry for't.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. So are a number more.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. But, pray, how pass'd it?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll tell you in a little. The great Duke.
    Came to the bar; where to his accusations
    He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged
    Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
    The King's attorney, on the contrary,
    Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions,
    Of divers witnesses; which the Duke desir'd
    To have brought, viva voce, to his face;
    At which appear'd against him his surveyor,
    Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor, and John Car,
    Confessor to him, with that devil-monk,
    Hopkins, that made this mischief.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. That was he
    That fed him with his prophecies?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. The same.
    All these accus'd him strongly, which he fain
    Would have flung from him; but indeed he could not;
    And so his peers, upon this evidence,
    Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
    He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all
    Was either pitied in him or forgotten.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. After all this, how did he bear him-self
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. When he was brought again to th' 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.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do not think he fears death.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sure, he does not;
    He never was so womanish; the cause
    He may a little grieve at.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Certainly
    The Cardinal is the end of this.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis likely,
    By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder,
    Then deputy of Ireland, who remov'd,
    Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
    Lest he should help his father.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. That trick of state
    Was a deep envious one.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. At his return
    No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
    And generally: whoever the King favours
    The Cardinal instantly will find employment,
    And far enough from court too.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. All the commons
    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, tip-staves
      before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds
      on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS
      LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDYS,
      and common people, etc.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Stay there, sir,
    And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Let's stand close, and behold him.
  BUCKINGHAM. All good people,
    You that thus far have come to pity me,
    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:
    'T has done, upon the premises, but justice.
    But those that sought it I could wish more Christians.
    Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em;
    Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief
    Nor build their evils on the graves of great men,
    For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.
    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
    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, a God's name.
  LOVELL. I do beseech your Grace, for charity,
    If ever any malice in your heart
    Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
  BUCKINGHAM. 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 mark 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,
    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!
  LOVELL. To th' 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.
  BUCKINGHAM. 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 'em one day groan fort.
    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!
    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!
                                          Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and train
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
    I fear, too many curses on their heads
    That were the authors.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 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.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Good angels keep it from us!
    What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
    A strong faith to conceal it.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Let me have it;
    I do not talk much.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I am confident.
    You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
    A buzzing of a separation
    Between the King and Katharine?
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 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.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. But that slander, sir,
    Is found a truth now; for it grows again
    Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain
    The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal
    Or some about him near have, out of malice
    To the good Queen, possess'd him with a scruple
    That will undo her. To confirm this too,
    Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd and lately;
    As all think, for this business.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis the Cardinal;
    And merely to revenge him on the Emperor
    For not bestowing on him at his asking
    The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 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.
  FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis woeful.
    We are too open here to argue this;
    Let's think in private more. Exeunt