ACT I. SCENE I. London. An Antechamber in the Palace. Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, at one door: at the other, the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and the LORD Á BERGAVENNY. Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have you done, Since last we saw in France? Nor. I thank your grace: Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer Of what I saw there. Buck. An untimely ague Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, Met in the vale of Arde. Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde: I was then present, saw them salute on horse back; Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung Such a compounded one? All the whole time I was my chamber's prisoner. ried To one above itself. Each following day Made it a fool and beggar. These two kings, suns (For so they phrase them) by their heralds challeng'd The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story, Being now seen possible enough, got credit, Buck. O, you go far. To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, Buck. Who did guide, I mean, who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess? Nor. One, certes, that promises no element In such a business. Buck. I pray you, who, my lord? Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend cardinal of York. Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is free'd From his ambitious finger. What had he Surely, sir, Nor. There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends; For, being not propp'd by ancestry (whose grace Chalks successors their way), nor call'd upon For high feats done to the crown; neither allied To eminent assistants, but, spider-like, Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, The force of his own merit makes his way; A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys Aber. Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that? If not from hell, the devil is a niggard; Buck. Why the devil, Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, Without the privity o' the king, to appoint Who should attend on him? He makes up the file Of all the gentry; for the most part such Must fetch him in he papers. Aber. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have By this so sicken'd their estates, that never They shall abound as formerly. Buck. O, many Have broke their backs with laying manors on them For this great journey. What did this vanity, But minister communication of A most poor issue? Nor. Grievingly I think, The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it. Buck. Every man, After the hideous storm that follow'd, was A thing inspir'd: and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy, That this tempest, Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded The sudden breach on 't. Nor. Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. Aber. The ambassador is silenc'd? Nor. Is it therefore Marry, is 't. Aber. A proper title of a peace, and purchas'd At a superfluous rate! Buck. Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried. What his high hatred would effect, wants not That I advise your shunning. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, (the purse horne before him), certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with papers. The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM OR him, both full of disdain. Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? Where's his examination? 1 Secr. Here, so please you, Wol. Is he in person ready? 1 Secr. Ay, please your grace. Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham Shall lessen his big look. [Exeunt WOLSEY and Train, Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore, best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book Out-worths a noble's blood. Nor. What, are you chaf'd? Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only, Which your disease requires. Buck. I read in his looks Matter against me: and his eye revil'd I'll follow, and outstare him. Nor. Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: To climb steep hills, Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like A full hot horse; who, being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you: be to yourself As you would to your friend. Buck. I'll to the king; And from a mouth of honour quite cry down This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim, There's difference in no persons. Nor. Be advis'd; More stronger to direct you than yourself; Buck. Sir, I am thankful to you; and I'll go along low, (Whom from the flow of gall, I name not, but From sincere motions), by intelligence, And proofs as clear as founts in July, when We see each grain of gravel, I do know To be corrupt and treasonous. Nor. As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, |