The force of this commission: Pray, look to't; 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 commons Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd, 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, 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 Out of the duke of Buckingham. K. Hen. Speak freely. Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day It would infect his speech, That if the king Should without issue die, he'd carry it so To make the sceptre his: These very words I have heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menae'd Revenge upon the cardinal. Wol. Please your highness, note, This dangerous conception in this point. 2. Kath. My learn'd lord cardinal, Speak on: Deliver all with charity. K. Hen. How grounded he his title to the crown, Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? Surv. He was brought to this Sir, a Chartreux friar, By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. Surv. K. Hen. How know'st thou this? Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish Qern England. If I know you well, You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o'the tenants: Take good heed, You charge not in your spleen a noble person, And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you. K. Hen. Let him on: Go forward. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. To ruminate on this so far, until It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd, That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd, K. Hen. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha! There's mischief in this man:--Canst thou say further? Surv. Proceed. Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reprov'd the duke K. Hen. The duke retain'd him his.- -But on; What hence? 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 Surv. After-the duke his father,with the knife,- K. Hen. To sheath his knife in us. There's his period, if he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, SCENE III. A room in the Palace. [Exeunt. Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord SANDS. Cham. Is it 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. That never saw them pace before, the spavin, 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, I hear of none, but the new proclamation Cham. What is't for? Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Cham. I am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre. Lov. Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. Sands. "Tis time to give them physick, their diseases Are grown so catching. Cham, What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities! Lon. Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow. Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad, they're going; (For, sure, there's no converting of them ;) pow An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song, And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-lady, Held current musick too. Cham. Well said, lord Sands; Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. No, my lord; Nor shall not, while I have a stump. Cham. Whither were you a going? Lov. Sir Thomas, To the cardinal's; Your lordship is a guest too. The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; Cham. in him Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: Men of his way should be most liberal, They are set here for examples. Cham. True, they are so ; |