Billeder på siden



London. An Antichamber in the Palace. Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, at one Door; at the other, the Duke of BUCKINGHAM, and the Lord ABERGAVENNY.


GOOD morrow, and well met.


Since last we saw in France?

Nor. I thank your grace :

How have you

Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer

Of what I saw there.

Buck. Ąn untimely ague

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those sons of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Arde.

Nor. 'Twixt Guines and Arde:

I was then present, saw them salute on horse-back;




Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as they grew together;
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have

Such a compounded one?

Buck. All the whole time

I was my chamber's prisoner.

Nor. Then you lost

The view of earthly glory: Men might say,

'Till this time, pomp was single; but now marry'd
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, 'till the last
Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain, India: every man, that stood,
Shew'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubims, all gilt: the madams too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting: now this mask
Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them;
Still him in praise: and, being

him in eye, present both,



'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns (For so they phrase 'em) by their heralds challeng'd The noble spirits to arms, they did perform



Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous


Being now seen possible enough, gọt credit,

That Bevis was believ'd.

Buck. Oh, you go far.

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
Would 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 did
Distinctly his full function.

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 pye is free'd From his ambitious finger, What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.

Nor. Surely, sir,

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends:
For, being not propt by ancestry (whose grace
Chalks successors their way), nor call'd upon

[blocks in formation]

For high feats done to the crown; neither ally'd
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
A place next to the king.

Aber. I cannot tell

What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride


Peep 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 begins
A new hell in himself.

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

Too, whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon and his own letter,
The honourable board of council out,
Must fetch in him 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, aboaded
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. Is it therefore

The ambassador is silenc'd?

Nor. 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 carry'd.

Nor. Like it your grace,


The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you

(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety), that you read
The cardinal's 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,


« ForrigeFortsæt »