Speeches (Lines) for First Gentleman in "History of Henry VIII"

Henry VIII. Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner,
I must not yet forsake you: let's be merry:
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it.

First Gentleman. Whither away so fast?

Second Gentleman. O, God save ye!
Even 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
Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired
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 accused 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 himself?

First Gentleman. When he was brought again to the 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 removed,
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;--

First Gentleman. Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
[Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; tip-staves]
before him; the axe with the edge towards him;
halberds on each side: accompanied with LOVELL,
VAUX, SANDS, and common people]

Duke of 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 for't.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first raised head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succor 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,
Restored 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 loved 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!

First Gentleman. O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their beads
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 rumor, 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 arrived, 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 purposed.

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 woful.
We are too open here to argue this;
Let's think in private more.

Cardinal Wolsey. So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

First Gentleman. You're well met once again.

Second Gentleman. So are you.

First Gentleman. You come to take your stand here, and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?

Second Gentleman. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter,
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

First Gentleman. 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow;
This, general joy.

Second Gentleman. 'Tis well: the citizens,
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds--
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward--
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants and sights of honour.

First Gentleman. Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.

Second Gentleman. May I be bold to ask at what that contains,
That paper in your hand?

First Gentleman. Yes; 'tis the list
Of those that claim their offices this day
By custom of the coronation.
The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest.

Second Gentleman. I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs,
I should have been beholding to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?

First Gentleman. That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill where the princess lay; to which
She was often cited by them, but appear'd not:
And, to be short, for not appearance and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorced,
And the late marriage made of none effect
Since which she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.

Second Gentleman. A royal train, believe me. These I know:
Who's that that bears the sceptre?

First Gentleman. Marquess Dorset:
And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.

Second Gentleman. A bold brave gentleman. That should be
The Duke of Suffolk?

First Gentleman. 'Tis the same: high-steward.

Second Gentleman. And that my Lord of Norfolk?

First Gentleman. Yes;

Second Gentleman. Heaven bless thee!
[Looking on QUEEN ANNE]
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more and richer, when he strains that lady:
I cannot blame his conscience.

First Gentleman. They that bear
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

Second Gentleman. Those men are happy; and so are all are near her.
I take it, she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.

First Gentleman. It is; and all the rest are countesses.

Second Gentleman. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed;
And sometimes falling ones.

First Gentleman. No more of that.

First Gentleman. No more of that.

First Gentleman. God save you, sir! where have you been broiling?

Third Gentleman. That I did.

First Gentleman. How was it?

Third Gentleman. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and saint-like
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again and bow'd her to the people:
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted,
And with the same full state paced back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.

First Gentleman. Sir,
You must no more call it York-place, that's past;
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost:
'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.