The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

The chronicles of my doing, let me say ‘Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear

To cope malicious censurers, which ever As rav’nous fishes do a vessel follow That is new-trimm’d, but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow’d; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still, In fear our motion will be mock’d or carp’d at, We should take root here where we sit, or sit State-statues only.

KING. Things done well

And with a care exempt themselves from fear: Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear’d. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any.

We must not rend our subjects from our laws, And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?

A trembling contribution! Why, we take From every tree lop, bark, and part o’ th’ timber; And though we leave it with a root, thus hack’d, The air will drink the sap. To every county Where this is question’d send our letters with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission. Pray, look tot; I put it to your care.

WOLSEY. [Aside to the SECRETARY] A word with you.

Let there be letters writ to every shire Of the King’s grace and pardon. The grieved 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

QUEEN KATHARINE. I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.

KING. 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.

WOLSEY. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

KING. Speak freely.

SURVEYOR. First, it was usual with him-every day It would infect his speech-that if the King Should without issue die, he’ll carry it so To make the sceptre his. These very words I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Aberga’ny, to whom by oath he menac’d Revenge upon the Cardinal.

WOLSEY. 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.

QUEEN KATHARINE. My learn’d Lord Cardinal, Deliver all with charity.

KING. 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?

SURVEYOR. He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.

KING. What was that Henton?

SURVEYOR. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty.

KING. How know’st thou this?

SURVEYOR. 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 ‘twas the fear indeed and that he doubted ‘Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk ‘that oft’ says he ‘Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment; Whom after under the confession’s seal He solemnly had sworn that what he spoke My chaplain to no creature living but To me should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensu’d: “Neither the King nor’s heirs, Tell you the Duke, shall prosper; bid him strive To gain the love o’ th’ commonalty; the Duke Shall govern England.”’

QUEEN KATHARINE. If I know you well,

You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o’ th’ 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.

KING. Let him on.

Go forward.

SURVEYOR. On my soul, I’ll speak but truth.

I told my lord the Duke, by th’ devil’s illusions The monk might be deceiv’d, and that ‘twas dangerous for him

To ruminate on this so far, until

It forg’d him some design, which, being believ’d, It was much like to do. He answer’d ‘Tush, It can do me no damage’; adding further That, had the King in his last sickness fail’d, The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Should have gone off.

KING. Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha!

There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?

SURVEYOR. I can, my liege.

KING. Proceed.

SURVEYOR. Being at Greenwich,

After your Highness had reprov’d the Duke About Sir William Bulmer-KING. I remember

Of such a time: being my sworn servant, The Duke retain’d him his. But on: what hence?

SURVEYOR. ‘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

Th’ usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in’s presence, which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him.’

KING. A giant traitor!

WOLSEY. Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison?

QUEEN KATHARINE. God mend all!

KING. There’s something more would out of thee: what say’st?

SURVEYOR. After ‘the Duke his father’ with the ‘knife,’

He stretch’d him, and, with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on’s breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenour Was, were he evil us’d, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.

KING. 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 th’ height. Exeunt

ACT I. SCENE 3.

London. The palace

Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN and LORD SANDYS

CHAMBERLAIN. Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries?

SANDYS. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,

Nay, let ‘em be unmanly, yet are follow’d.

CHAMBERLAIN. As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold ‘em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counsellors To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

SANDYS. They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it, That never saw ‘em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reign’d among ‘em.

CHAMBERLAIN. Death! my lord,

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t, That sure th’ have worn out Christendom.

Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL

How now?

What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

LOVELL. Faith, my lord,

I hear of none but the new proclamation That’s clapp’d upon the court gate.

CHAMBERLAIN. What is’t for?

LOVELL. The reformation of our travell’d gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

CHAMBERLAIN. I am glad ‘tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre.

LOVELL. They must either,

For so run the conditions, leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto-as fights and fireworks; Abusing better men than they can be,

Out of a foreign wisdom-renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blist’red 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.

SANDYS. ‘Tis time to give ‘em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.

CHAMBERLAIN. What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities!

LOVELL. 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.

SANDYS. The devil fiddle ‘em! I am glad they are going, For sure there’s no converting ‘em. Now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong And have an hour of hearing; and, by’r Lady, Held current music too.

CHAMBERLAIN. Well said, Lord Sandys;

Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.

SANDYS. No, my lord,

Nor shall not while I have a stamp.

CHAMBERLAIN. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a-going?

LOVELL. To the Cardinal’s;

Your lordship is a guest too.

CHAMBERLAIN. O, ‘tis true;

This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.

LOVELL. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall everywhere.

CHAMBERLAIN. No doubt he’s noble;

He had a black mouth that said other of him.

SANDYS. He may, my lord; has wherewithal. 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.

CHAMBERLAIN. True, they are so;

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else; which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford, This night to be comptrollers.

SANDYS. I am your lordship’s. Exeunt

ACT I. SCENE 4.

London. The Presence Chamber in York Place Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter ANNE BULLEN, and divers other LADIES and GENTLEMEN, as guests, at one door; at another door enter SIR HENRY GUILDFORD

GUILDFORD. Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates To fair content and you. None here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy, has brought with her One care abroad; he would have all as merry As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.

Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN, LORD SANDYS, and SIR

THOMAS LOVELL

O, my lord, y’are tardy,

The very thought of this fair company Clapp’d wings to me.

CHAMBERLAIN. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.

SANDYS. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they rested I think would better please ‘em. By my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones.

LOVELL. O that your lordship were but now confessor To one or two of