Free pardon to each man that has denied 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, That, through our intercession, this revokement And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary. Enter Surveyor. 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 grave 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 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. Serv. First, it was usual with bim, every day It would infect his speech, That if the king Wol. Please your highness, note This dangerous conception in this point. Not friended by his wish, to your high person His will is most malignant; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends. 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 Hopkins. He was brought to this Sir, a Chartreux friar, How know'st thon this? Surv. K. Hen. France, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish To me, should utter, with demure confidence (Tell heirs prosper: bid him strive To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke K. Hen. Go forward. Surv. Let him on: On my soul, I'll speak but truth. I told my lord the duke, By the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang'rous for him 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? Ab, ha! There's mischief in this man:-Canst thou say further? Surv. I can, my liege. K. Hen. Surv. Proceed. Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reprov'd the duke K. Hen. Surv. If,quoth he, I for this had been committed, As, to the Tower, I thought,-I would have play'd The part my father meant to act upon The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would 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, Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes, K. Hen. There's his period, To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd; Call him to present trial: if he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek 't of us: By day and night, He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. 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, Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; 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, Lov. Sir Thomas Lovell? Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL. 'Faith, my lord, I hear of none, but the new proclamation VOL. VI. C What is 't for? Cham. To think an English courtier may be wise, Lov. Out of a foreign wisdom), renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men; Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, They may, cum privilegio, wear away 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! Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whore sons 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): now 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. Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. Sands. Well said, Lord Sands: No, my lord; Sir Thomas, To the cardinal's; Nor shall not, while I have a stump. |