The Life of Henry the Eighth

William Shakespeare

The Life of Henry the Eighth

THE LIFE OF HENRY THE EIGHTH

by William Shakespeare

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

KING HENRY THE EIGHTH

CARDINAL WOLSEY

CARDINAL CAMPEIUS

CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V

CRANMER, archbishop of Canterbury

DUKE OF NORFOLK

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM

DUKE OF SUFFOLK

EARL OF SURREY

LORD CHAMBERLAIN

LORD CHANCELLOR

GARDINER, bishop of Winchester

BISHOP OF LINCOLN

LORD ABERGAVENNY

LORD SANDYS (called also SIR WILLIAM SANDYS)

SIR HENRY GUILDFORD

SIR THOMAS LOVELL

SIR ANTHONY DENNY

SIR NICHOLAS VAUX

Secretaries to Wolsey

CROMWELL, servant to Wolsey

GRIFFITH, gentleman usher to Queen Katherine

Three Gentlemen

DOCTOR BUTTS, physician to the King

Garter King-at-Arms

Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham

BRANDON, and a Sergeant-at-Arms

Door-keeper of the Council-chamber

Porter, and his Man

Page to Gardiner

A Crier

QUEEN KATHERINE, wife to King Henry, afterwards divorced

ANNE BULLEN, her Maid of Honour, afterwards Queen

An old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen

PATIENCE, woman to Queen Katherine

Spirits

Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women attending upon the Queen; Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants

SCENE: London; Westminster; Kimbolton

THE PROLOGUE

I COME no more to make you laugh: things nowThat bear a weighty and a serious brow,Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,We now present. Those that can pity, hereMay, if they think it well, let fall a tear;The subject will deserve it. Such as giveTheir money out of hope they may believe,May here find truth too. Those that come to seeOnly a show or two, and so agreeThe play may pass, if they be still and willing,I'll undertake may see away their shillingRichly in two short hours. Only theyThat come to hear a merry bawdy play,A noise of targets, or to see a fellowIn a long motley coat guarded with yellow,Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know,To rank our chosen truth with such a showAs fool and fight is, beside forfeitingOur own brains, and the opinion that we bringTo make that only true we now intend,Will leave us never an understanding friend.Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are knownThe first and happiest hearers of the town,Be sad, as we would make ye; think ye seeThe very persons of our noble storyAs they were living; think you see them great,And follow'd with the general throng and sweatOf thousand friends; then, in a moment, seeHow soon this mightiness meets misery;And if you can be merry then, I'll sayA man may weep upon his wedding-day.

ACT I

SCENE I. London. An ante-chamber in the palace

[Enter the Duke of Norfolk at one door; at the other, the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny.]

BUCKINGHAMGood morrow, and well met. How have ye doneSince last we saw in France?NORFOLK. I thank your Grace,Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirerOf what I saw there.BUCKINGHAMAn untimely agueStay'd me a prisoner in my chamber whenThose suns of glory, those two lights of men,Met in the vale of Andren.NORFOLK'Twixt Guynes and Arde.I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clungIn their embracement, as they grew together;Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'dSuch a compounded one?BUCKINGHAMAll the whole timeI was my chamber's prisoner.NORFOLKThen you lostThe view of earthly glory. Men might say,Till this time pomp was single, but now marriedTo one above itself. Each following dayBecame the next day's master, till the lastMade former wonders its. To-day the French,All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, theyMade Britain India: every man that stoodShow'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages wereAs cherubins, all gilt; the madams too,Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bearThe pride upon them, that their very labourWas to them as a painting. Now this masqueWas cried incomparable; and the ensuing nightMade it a fool and beggar. The two kings,Equal 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 discernerDurst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns —For so they phrase 'em – by their heralds challeng'dThe noble spirits to arms, they did performBeyond thought's compass, that former fabulous story,Being now seen possible enough, got credit,That Bevis was believ'd.BUCKINGHAMO, you go far!NORFOLKAs I belong to worship and affectIn honour honesty, the tract of ev'rythingWould by a good discourser lose some life,Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal;To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,Order gave each thing view; the office didDistinctly his full function.BUCKINGHAMWho did guide,I mean, who set the body and the limbsOf this great sport together, as you guess?NORFOLKOne, certes, that promises no elementIn such a business.BUCKINGHAMI pray you, who, my lord?NORFOLKAll this was ord'red by the good discretionOf the right reverend Cardinal of York.BUCKINGHAMThe devil speed him! no man's pie is freedFrom his ambitious finger. What had heTo do in these fierce vanities? I wonderThat such a keech can with his very bulkTake up the rays o' th' beneficial sun,And keep it from the earth.NORFOLKSurely, sir,There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose graceChalks successors their way, nor call'd uponFor high feats done to the crown; neither alliedTo 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 buysA place next to the King.ABERGAVENNYI cannot tellWhat heaven hath given him, – let some graver eyePierce into that; but I can see his pridePeep through each part of him. Whence has he that?If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,Or has given all before, and he beginsA new hell in himself.BUCKINGHAMWhy the devil,Upon this French going out, took he upon him,Without the privity o' the King, to appointWho should attend on him? He makes up the fileOf all the gentry; for the most part suchTo whom as great a charge as little honourHe meant to lay upon; and his own letter,The honourable board of council out,Must fetch him in he papers.ABERGAVENNYI do knowKinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haveBy this so sicken'd their estates, that neverThey shall abound as formerly.BUCKINGHAMO, manyHave broke their backs with laying manors on 'emFor this great journey. What did this vanityBut minister communication ofA most poor issue?NORFOLKGrievingly I thinkThe peace between the French and us not valuesThe cost that did conclude it.BUCKINGHAMEvery man,After the hideous storm that follow'd, wasA thing inspir'd; and, not consulting, brokeInto a general prophecy, that this tempest,Dashing the garment of this peace, abodedThe sudden breach on't.NORFOLKWhich is budded out;For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'dOur merchants' goods at Bordeaux.ABERGAVENNYIs it thereforeThe ambassador is silenc'd?NORFOLKMarry, is't.ABERGAVENNYA proper title of a peace, and purchas'dAt a superfluous rate!BUCKINGHAMWhy, all this businessOur reverend Cardinal carried.NORFOLKLike it your Grace,The state takes notice of the private differenceBetwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you —And take it from a heart that wishes towards youHonour and plenteous safety – that you readThe Cardinal's malice and his potencyTogether, to consider further thatWhat his high hatred would effect wants notA minister in his power. You know his nature,That he's revengeful, and I know his swordHath a sharp edge; it's long, and, 't may be said,It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend,Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rockThat I advise your shunning.

[Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse borne before him, certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries, with papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.]

WOLSEYThe Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?Where's his examination?SECRETARYHere, so please you.WOLSEYIs he in person ready?SECRETARYAy, please your Grace.WOLSEYWell, we shall then know more; and BuckinghamShall lessen this big look.

[Exeunt Wolsey and his train.]

BUCKINGHAMThis butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and IHave not the power to muzzle him; therefore bestNot wake him in his slumber. A beggar's bookOutworths a noble's blood.NORFOLKWhat, are you chaf'd?Ask God for temp'rance; that's the appliance onlyWhich your disease requires.BUCKINGHAMI read in 's looksMatter against me, and his eye revil'dMe as his abject object. At this instantHe bores me with some trick. He's gone to the King;I'll follow, and outstare him.NORFOLKStay, my lord,And let your reason with your choler questionWhat 'tis you go about. To climb steep hillsRequires slow pace at first. Anger is likeA full hot horse, who being allow'd his way,Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in EnglandCan advise me like you; be to yourselfAs you would to your friend.BUCKINGHAMI'll to the King,And from a mouth of honour quite cry downThis Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaimThere's difference in no persons.NORFOLKBe advis'd;Heat not a furnace for your foe so hotThat it do singe yourself. We may outrun,By violent swiftness, that which we run at,And lose by over-running. Know you not,The fire that mounts the liquor till 't run o'er,In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advis'd.I say again, there is no English soulMore stronger to direct you than yourself,If with the sap of reason you would quench,Or but allay, the fire of passion.BUCKINGHAMSir,I am thankful to you; and I'll go alongBy your prescription; but this top-proud fellow,Whom from the flow of gall I name not, butFrom sincere motions, by intelligence,And proofs as clear as founts in July whenWe see each grain of gravel, I do knowTo be corrupt and treasonous.NORFOLKSay not "treasonous."BUCKINGHAMTo the King I'll say't, and make my vouch as strongAs shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,Or wolf, or both, – for he is equal ravenousAs he is subtle, and as prone to mischiefAs able to perform't; his mind and placeInfecting one another, yea, reciprocally —Only to show his pomp as well in FranceAs here at home, suggests the King our masterTo this last costly treaty, the interview,That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glassDid break i' the rinsing.NORFOLKFaith, and so it did.BUCKINGHAMPray, give me favour, sir. This cunning CardinalThe articles o' the combination drewAs himself pleas'd; and they were ratifiedAs he cried "Thus let be," to as much endAs give a crutch to the dead. But our count-cardinalHas done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, —Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppyTo the old dam, treason, – Charles the Emperor,Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt, —For 'twas indeed his colour, but he cameTo whisper Wolsey, – here makes visitation.His fears were, that the interview betwixtEngland and France might, through their amity,Breed him some prejudice; for from this leaguePeep'd harms that menac'd him. He privilyDeals with our Cardinal; and, as I trow, —Which I do well, for I am sure the EmperorPaid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was grantedEre it was ask'd – but when the way was made,And pav'd with gold, the Emperor thus desir'd,That he would please to alter the King's course,And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,As soon he shall by me, that thus the CardinalDoes buy and sell his honour as he pleasesAnd for his own advantage.NORFOLKI am sorryTo hear this of him; and could wish he wereSomething mistaken in't.BUCKINGHAMNo, not a syllable:I do pronounce him in that very shapeHe shall appear in proof.

[Enter Brandon, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and two or three of the Guard.]

BRANDON. Your office, sergeant; execute it.SERGEANTSir,My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and EarlOf Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, IArrest thee of high treason, in the nameOf our most sovereign king.BUCKINGHAMLo, you, my lord,The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perishUnder device and practice.BRANDONI am sorryTo see you ta'en from liberty, to look onThe business present. 'Tis his Highness' pleasureYou shall to the Tower.BUCKINGHAMIt will help nothingTo plead mine innocence; for that dye is on meWhich makes my whit'st part black. The will of HeavenBe done in this and all things! I obey.O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!BRANDONNay, he must bear you company.

[To Abergavenny.] The King

Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you knowHow he determines further.ABERGAVENNYAs the Duke said,The will of Heaven be done, and the King's pleasureBy me obey'd!BRANDONHere is warrant fromThe King to attach Lord Montacute, and the bodiesOf the Duke's confessor, John de la Car,One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, —BUCKINGHAMSo, so;These are the limbs o' the plot. No more, I hope?BRANDONA monk o' the Chartreux.BUCKINGHAMO, Nicholas Hopkins?BRANDONHe.BUCKINGHAMMy surveyor is false; the o'er-great CardinalHath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already.I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. The same. The council-chamber

[Cornets. Enter the King, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovell; the Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on his right side.]

KINGMy life itself, and the best heart of it,Thanks you for this great care. I stood i' the levelOf a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanksTo you that chok'd it. Let be call'd before usThat gentleman of Buckingham's; in personI'll hear his confessions justify;And point by point the treasons of his masterHe shall again relate.

[A noise within, crying "Room for the Queen!" Enter Queen Katherine, ushered by the Duke of Norfolk, and the Duke of Suffolk; she kneels. The King riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him.]

QUEEN KATHERINENay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.KINGArise, and take place by us. Half your suitNever name to us, you have half our power;The other moiety, ere you ask, is given.Repeat your will and take it.QUEEN KATHERINEThank your Majesty.That you would love yourself, and in that loveNot unconsidered leave your honour, norThe dignity of your office, is the pointOf my petition.KINGLady mine, proceed.QUEEN KATHERINEI am solicited, not by a few,And those of true condition, that your subjectsAre in great grievance. There have been commissionsSent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heartOf all their loyalties; wherein, although,My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproachesMost bitterly on you, as putter onOf these exactions, yet the King our master —Whose honour Heaven shield from soil! – even he escapes notLanguage unmannerly, yea, such which breaksThe sides of loyalty, and almost appearsIn loud rebellion.NORFOLKNot "almost appears,"It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,The clothiers all, not able to maintainThe many to them longing, have put offThe spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,Unfit for other life, compell'd by hungerAnd lack of other means, in desperate mannerDaring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,And danger serves among them.KINGTaxation!Wherein? and what taxation? My Lord Cardinal,You that are blam'd for it alike with us,Know you of this taxation?WOLSEYPlease you, sir,I know but of a single part, in aughtPertains to the state, and front but in that fileWhere others tell steps with me.QUEEN KATHERINENo, my lord?You know no more than others? But you frameThings that are known alike, which are not wholesomeTo those which would not know them, and yet mustPerforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,Whereof my sovereign would have note, they areMost pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear 'em,The back is sacrifice to the load. They sayThey are devis'd by you; or else you sufferToo hard an exclamation.KINGStill exaction!The nature of it? In what kind, let's know,Is this exaction?QUEEN KATHERINEI am much too venturousIn tempting of your patience; but am bold'nedUnder your promis'd pardon. The subjects' griefComes through commissions, which compels from eachThe sixth part of his substance, to be leviedWithout delay; and the pretence for thisIs nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold mouths;Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freezeAllegiance in them; their curses nowLive where their prayers did; and it's come to passThis tractable obedience is a slaveTo each incensed will. I would your HighnessWould give it quick consideration, forThere is no primer business.KINGBy my life,This is against our pleasure.WOLSEYAnd for me,I have no further gone in this than byA single voice; and that not pass'd me butBy learned approbation of the judges. If I amTraduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither knowMy faculties nor person, yet will beThe chronicles of my doing, let me say'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brakeThat virtue must go through. We must not stintOur necessary actions, in the fearTo cope malicious censurers; which ever,As ravenous fishes, do a vessel followThat is new-trimm'd, but benefit no furtherThan vainly longing. What we oft do best,By sick interpreters, once weak ones, isNot ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,Hitting a grosser quality, is cried upFor 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 sitState-statues only.KINGThings done well,And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;Things done without example, in their issueAre to be fear'd. Have you a precedentOf 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 takeFrom every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber;And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,The air will drink the sap. To every countyWhere this is question'd send our letters, withFree pardon to each man that has deni'dThe force of this commission. Pray, look to't;I put it to your care.WOLSEYA word with you. [To the Secretary, aside.]Let there be letters writ to every shire,Of the King's grace and pardon. The grieved commonsHardly conceive of me; let it be nois'dThat through our intercession this revokementAnd pardon comes. I shall anon advise youFurther in the proceeding.

[Exit Secretary.]

[Enter Surveyor.]

QUEEN KATHERINEI am sorry that the Duke of BuckinghamIs run in your displeasure.KINGIt grieves many.The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker;To nature none more bound; his training suchThat he may furnish and instruct great teachers,And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,When these so noble benefits shall proveNot well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,They turn to vicious forms, ten times more uglyThan 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 findHis hour of speech a minute; he, my lady,Hath into monstrous habits put the gracesThat once were his, and is become as blackAs if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear —This was his gentleman in trust – of himThings to strike honour sad. Bid him recountThe fore-recited practices, whereofWe cannot feel too little, hear too much.WOLSEYStand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you,Most like a careful subject, have collectedOut of the Duke of Buckingham.KINGSpeak freely.SURVEYORFirst, it was usual with him, every dayIt would infect his speech, that if the KingShould without issue die, he'll carry it soTo make the sceptre his. These very wordsI've heard him utter to his son-in-law,Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menac'dRevenge upon the Cardinal.WOLSEYPlease your Highness, noteThis dangerous conception in this point.Not friended by his wish, to your high personHis will is most malignant; and it stretchesBeyond you, to your friends.QUEEN KATHERINEMy learn'd Lord Cardinal,Deliver all with charity.KINGSpeak on.How grounded he his title to the crown?Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard himAt any time speak aught?SURVEYORHe was brought to thisBy a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.KINGWhat was that Henton?SURVEYORSir, a Chartreux friar,His confessor; who fed him every minuteWith words of sovereignty.KINGHow know'st thou this?SURVEYORNot long before your Highness sped to France,The Duke being at the Rose, within the parishSaint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demandWhat was the speech among the LondonersConcerning the French journey. I repli'd,Men fear the French would prove perfidious,To the King's danger. Presently the DukeSaid, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted'Twould prove the verity of certain wordsSpoke by a holy monk, "that oft," says he,"Hath sent to me, wishing me to permitJohn de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hourTo hear from him a matter of some moment;Whom after under the confession's sealHe solemnly had sworn, that what he spokeMy chaplain to no creature living butTo me should utter, with demure confidenceThis pausingly ensu'd: 'Neither the King nor's heirs,Tell you the Duke, shall prosper. Bid him striveTo gain the love o' the commonalty. The DukeShall govern England."'QUEEN KATHERINEIf I know you well,You were the Duke's surveyor, and lost your officeOn the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heedYou charge not in your spleen a noble personAnd spoil your nobler soul; I say, take heed;Yes, heartily beseech you.KINGLet him on.Go forward.SURVEYOROn my soul, I'll speak but truth.I told my lord the Duke, by the devil's illusionsThe monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangerous for himTo ruminate on this so far, untilIt 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 furtherThat, had the King in his last sickness fail'd,The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's headsShould have gone off.KINGHa! what, so rank? Ah ha!There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?SURVEYORI can, my liege.KINGProceed.SURVEYORBeing at Greenwich,After your Highness had reprov'd the DukeAbout Sir William Bulmer, —KINGI rememberOf 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'dThe part my father meant to act uponThe usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,Made suit to come in 's presence; which if granted,As he made semblance of his duty, wouldHave put his knife into him."KINGA giant traitor!WOLSEYNow, madam, may his Highness live in freedom,And this man out of prison?QUEEN KATHERINEGod mend all!KINGThere's something more would out of thee; what say'st?SURVEYORAfter "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 tenourWas, were he evil us'd, he would outgoHis father by as much as a performanceDoes an irresolute purpose.KINGThere's his period,To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd.Call him to present trial. If he mayFind 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.]

SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace

[Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys.]

CHAMBERLAINIs't possible the spells of France should juggleMen into such strange mysteries?SANDYSNew customs,Though they be never so ridiculous,Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.CHAMBERLAINAs far as I see, all the good our EnglishHave got by the late voyage is but merelyA fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones;For when they hold 'em, you would swear directlyTheir very noses had been counsellorsTo Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.SANDYSThey have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,That never saw 'em pace before, the spavinOr springhalt reign'd among 'em.CHAMBERLAINDeath! my lord,Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.

[Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.]

How now!What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?LOVELLFaith, my lord,I hear of none, but the new proclamationThat's clapp'd upon the court-gate.CHAMBERLAINWhat is't for?LOVELLThe reformation of our travell'd gallants,That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.CHAMBERLAINI'm glad 'tis there. Now I would pray our monsieursTo think an English courtier may be wise,And never see the Louvre.LOVELLThey must either,For so run the conditions, leave those remnantsOf fool and feather that they got in France,With all their honourable points of ignorancePertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,Abusing better men than they can be,Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing cleanThe 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 awayThe lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.SANDYS'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseasesAre grown so catching.CHAMBERLAINWhat a loss our ladiesWill have of these trim vanities!LOVELLAy, marry,There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresonsHave got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.SANDYSThe devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,For, sure, there's no converting of 'em. NowAn honest country lord, as I am, beatenA long time out of play, may bring his plainsongAnd have an hour of hearing; and, by 'r Lady,Held current music too.CHAMBERLAINWell said, Lord Sandys;Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.SANDYSNo, my lord;Nor shall not, while I have a stump.CHAMBERLAINSir Thomas,Whither were you a-going?LOVELLTo the Cardinal's.Your lordship is a guest too.CHAMBERLAINO, 'tis true:This night he makes a supper, and a great one,To many lords and ladies; there will beThe beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.LOVELLThat churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;His dews fall everywhere.CHAMBERLAINNo doubt he's noble;He had a black mouth that said other of him.SANDYSHe may, my lord; has wherewithal; in himSparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.Men of his way should be most liberal;They are set here for examples.CHAMBERLAINTrue, 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.SANDYSI am your lordship's.

[Exeunt.]