ACT II. SCENE I.

A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast?

2 Gent. Even to the hall, to hear what shall become

0,—God save you!

I'll fave you

Of the great duke of Buckingham.

1 Gent.

That labour, fir. All's now done, but the ceremony

Of bringing back the prisoner.

2 Gent.

1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.

2 Gent.

Were you there?

Pray, fpeak, what has happen'd?

1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. 2 Gent.

Is he found guilty? 1 Gent. Yes, truly, is he, and condemn'd upon it. 2 Gent. I am forry for't.

Gent.

So are a number more.

2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it?

■ Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke

Came to the bar; where, to his accufations,

He pleaded still, not guilty, and alledg'd
Many fharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confeffions
Of divers witneffes; which the duke defir'd
To him brought, vivâ voce, to his face:

At which appear'd against him, his furveyor;

Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court,
Confeffor to him; with that devil-monk,

Hopkins, that made this mischief.

Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not :
And fo 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.

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himfelf?

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar,—to hear His knell rung out, his judgement, he was stirr'd With fuch an agony, he sweat extremely,

And fomething spoke in choler, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly,

In all the reft fhow'd a inolt noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death.
1 Gent.

He never was fo womanifh; the caufe
He may a little grieve at.

Sure, he does not,

'Tis likely,

By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd,

Earl Surrey was fent thither, and in hafte too,
Lest he should help his father.

2 Gent.

Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent.

That trick of state

At his return,

No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,

And

And generally; whoever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.

All the commons

2 Gent. Hate him perniciously, and, o' my confcience, With him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love and dote on; call him, bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy ;—

1 Gent. Stay there, fir, And fee the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; Tipftaves before bim, the axe with the edge towards him; halberds on each fide: with him, Sir THOMAS LOVELL, Sir NICHOLAS VAUX, Sir WILLIAM SANDS, and common people.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him. Buck.

You that thus far have come to pity me,

All good people,

Hear what I fay, and then go home and lose me.

I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgement,

And by that name muft die; Yet, heaven bear witness,

And, if I have a confcience, let it fink me,

Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful!

The law I bear no malice for my death,
It has done, upon the premises, but justice;

But thofe, that fought it, I could with more christians:
Be what they will, I heartily forgive them:

Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against them.
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I fue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd

me,

And

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,

Go with me, like good angels, to my end;

And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one fweet facrifice,
And lift my foul to heaven.-Lead on, o'God's name.
Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,

If ever any malice in your heart

Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you,
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all ;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy
Shall make my grave.-Commend me to his grace;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him,
You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers
Yet are the king's; and, till my foul forfake me,
Shall cry for blessings on him: May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!

Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument !

Lov. To the water fide I must conduct your grace;
Then give my charge up to fir Nicholas Vaux,

Who undertakes you to your end.

Vaux.

Prepare there,

The duke is coming fee, the barge be ready;
And fit it with fuch furniture, as fuits

The greatness of his perfon.

Buck.

Nay, fir Nicholas,

Let it alone; my ftate now will but mock me.

When I came hither, I was lord high constable,

And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun :

Ye

Yet I am richer than my base accufers,

That never knew what truth meant: I now feal it ;

And with that blood will make them one day groan for't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,

Who first rais'd head against ufurping Richard,

Flying for fuccour to his fervant Banister,
Being diftrefs'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell; God's peace be with him!
Henry the seventh fucceeding, truly pitying
My father's lofs, like a most royal prince,
Reftor'd me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his fon,
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 fay, 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 fervants, by those men we lov'd most;
A most unnatural and faithlefs fervice!

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 counfels,
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 fink ye.

All good people,

Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the laft hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.

Farewell:

And when you would say something that is fad,

Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive me!

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train. i Gent.