Chapter: Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of
Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.

Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done
Since last we saw in France?
Norf. I thanke your Grace:
Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer
Of what I saw there

Buck. An vntimely Ague
Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when
Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men
Met in the vale of Andren

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde,
    I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke,
    Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung
    In their Embracement, as they grew together,
    Which had they,
    What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd
    Such a compounded one?
    Buck. All the whole time
    I was my Chambers Prisoner

    Nor. Then you lost
    The view of earthly glory: Men might say
    Till this time Pompe was single, but now married
    To one aboue it selfe. Each following day
    Became the next dayes master, till the last
    Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French,
    All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods
    Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they
    Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood,
    Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were
    As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
    Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare
    The Pride vpon them, that their very labour
    Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske
    Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night
    Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings
    Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst
    As presence did present them: Him in eye,
    Still him in praise, and being present both,
    'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner
    Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes
    (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd
    The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe
    Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie
    Being now seene, possible enough, got credit
    That Beuis was beleeu'd

    Buc. Oh you go farre

    Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
    In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing,
    Would by a good Discourser loose some life,
    Which Actions selfe, was tongue too

    Buc. All was Royall,
    To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
    Order gaue each thing view. The Office did
    Distinctly his full Function: who did guide,
    I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes
    Of this great Sport together?
    Nor. As you guesse:
    One certes, that promises no Element
    In such a businesse

    Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?
    Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion
    Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke

    Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed
    From his Ambitious finger. What had he
    To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder,
    That such a Keech can with his very bulke
    Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun,
    And keepe it from the Earth

    Nor. Surely Sir,
    There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends:
    For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace
    Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon
    For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied
    To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like
    Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note,
    The force of his owne merit makes his way
    A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes
    A place next to the King

    Abur. I cannot tell
    What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye
    Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride
    Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that,
    If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard,
    Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins
    A new Hell in himselfe

    Buc. Why the Diuell,
    Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him
    (Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint
    Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File
    Of all the Gentry; for the most part such
    To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor
    He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter
    The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
    Must fetch him in, he Papers

    Abur. I do know
    Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue
    By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer
    They shall abound as formerly

    Buc. O many
    Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em
    For this great Iourney. What did this vanity
    But minister communication of
    A most poore issue

    Nor. Greeuingly I thinke,
    The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes
    The Cost that did conclude it

    Buc. Euery man,
    After the hideous storme that follow'd, was
    A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke
    Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest
    Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded
    The sodaine breach on't

    Nor. Which is budded out,
    For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd
    Our Merchants goods at Burdeux

    Abur. Is it therefore
    Th' Ambassador is silenc'd?
    Nor. Marry is't

    Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd
    At a superfluous rate

    Buc. Why all this Businesse
    Our Reuerend Cardinall carried

    Nor. Like it your Grace,
    The State takes notice of the priuate difference
    Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you
    (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
     Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade
    The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
    Together; To consider further, that
    What his high Hatred would effect, wants not
    A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature,
    That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword
    Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide
    It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend,
    Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell,
    You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock
    That I aduice your shunning.
    Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of
    the Guard,
    and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage,
    fixeth his
    eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of
    disdaine.

    Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha?
    Where's his Examination?
    Secr. Heere so please you

    Car. Is he in person, ready?
    Secr. I, please your Grace

    Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham
    Shall lessen this bigge looke.

    Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.

    Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I
    Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best
    Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke,
    Out-worths a Nobles blood

    Nor. What are you chaff'd?
    Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely
    Which your disease requires

    Buc. I read in's looks
    Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd
    Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant
    He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King:
    Ile follow, and out-stare him

    Nor. Stay my Lord,
    And let your Reason with your Choller question
    What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles
    Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like
    A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way
    Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England
    Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe,
    As you would to your Friend

    Buc. Ile to the King,
    And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe
    This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime,
    There's difference in no persons

    Norf. Be aduis'd;
    Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot
    That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne
    By violent swiftnesse that which we run at;
    And lose by ouer-running: know you not,
    The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore,
    In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd;
I say againe there is no English Soule
More stronger to direct you then your selfe;
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
   Or but allay the fire of passion

   Buck. Sir,
   I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along
   By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,
   Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
   From sincere motions, by Intelligence,
   And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when
   Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know
   To be corrupt and treasonous

   Norf. Say not treasonous

   Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong
   As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe,
   Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous
           As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe,
           As able to perform't) his minde, and place
   Infecting one another, yea reciprocally,
   Only to shew his pompe, as well in France,
   As here at home, suggests the King our Master
   To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew,
   That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse
   Did breake ith' wrenching

   Norf. Faith, and so it did

   Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall
   The Articles o'th' Combination drew
   As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified
   As he cride thus let be, to as much end,
   As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall
   Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey
   (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes,
   (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie
    To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour,
   Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt,
   (For twas indeed his colour, but he came
    To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation,
   His feares were that the Interview betwixt
   England and France, might through their amity
   Breed him some preiudice; for from this League,
   Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily
   Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa
   Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour
   Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted
   Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made
   And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd,
   That he would please to alter the Kings course,
   And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know
   (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall
   Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases,
   And for his owne aduantage

   Norf. I am sorry
   To heare this of him; and could wish he were
   Somthing mistaken in't

   Buck. No, not a sillable:
   I doe pronounce him in that very shape
   He shall appeare in proofe.
   Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three
   of the
   Guard.

   Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it

   Sergeant. Sir,
   My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle
   Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I
   Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name
   Of our most Soueraigne King

   Buck. Lo you my Lord,
   The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish
   Vnder deuice, and practise

   Bran. I am sorry,
   To see you tane from liberty, to looke on
   The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure
   You shall to th' Tower

   Buck. It will helpe me nothing
   To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me
   Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n
   Be done in this and all things: I obey.
   O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well

   Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King
   Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know
   How he determines further

   Abur. As the Duke said,
   The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure
   By me obey'd

   Bran. Here is a warrant from
   The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies
   Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car,
   One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour

   Buck. So, so;
   These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope

   Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux

   Buck. O Michaell Hopkins?
   Bra. He

   Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall
   Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already:
   I am the shadow of poore Buckingham,
   Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on,
   By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.

   Exe.

 Prologue is a direct address from the dramatist to the audience. He says that this is a sad play capable of arousing pity. He adds that those who have come to witness the historical truth or watch a good show will be satisfied. But those who have come expecting a senseless comedy will go away disappointed. The dramatist feels that, by mocking something as serious as this by making it a farce, he will win the audiences scorn. He appeals to the audience to be freely affected by the pathos of its theme to see the characters of the play as if they were alive and to follow these lives as they fall from the pinnacle of glory to the depths of misery and less. He concludes by stating that if after watching this the audience is still untouched by sadness, then he is willing to let that a man can be sad on his wedding day.

