Lords, Ladies, Archbishops, Bishops, Judges, Lord Mayor and Aldermen, Barons of the Cinque Ports, Doctors of Divinity, Doctors of Law, Chaplains, Priests, Monks, Secretaries, Gentlemen, Choristers, Pursuivants, Vergers, Rowers, Tipstaves, Guards, Trumpeters, Henchmen, Torchbearers, Drummers, Fifers, Mace-bearers, Gentlemen Ushers, Pillar-bearers, Crossbearers, Footmen, Citizens, Soldiers, Executioner, &c., &c.

The Overture, Entractes, and incidental Music have been composed by MR. EDWARD GERMAN.

SCENE 2.-Outside the Palace

SCENE 3.-The Council Chamber in

SCENE 3.-A Garden in the Palace...

SCENE 4-A Hall in Blackfriars

...

ACT III.

Hawes Craven..

SCENE 1.-The Queen's Apartments)
SCENE 2.-The Palace at Bridewell

7. Harker.

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

Then you lost

Nor.
The view of earthly glory: men might say,
Till this time pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself. 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
Show'd like a mine. 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.

Buck.

Who did guide,

I mean, who set the body and the limbs

Of this great sport together, as you guess?

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 freed From his ambitious finger. 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. 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? O, many have
Broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
For this great journey.

Nor.

Grievingly I think,

The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.

Buck.

Our reverend Cardinal carried.

Nor.

All this business

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,
That he's revengeful, and I know his sword
Hath 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. [Trumpets sound.] Lo,

where comes that rock

That I advise your shunning.

Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him, certain of the Guard, Secretaries and others. The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain. Wol. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha? 'Where's his examination?

First Secr.

Here, so please you.

Wol. Is he in person ready?
First Secr.

Ay, please your grace.

Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and Buck

ingham

Shall lessen this big look.

[Exeunt WOLSEY and train.

Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the power to muzzle him. I read in's looks Matter against me; and his eye revil'd

Me as his abject object : at this instant

He bores me with some trick: he's gone t' the king; I'll follow and outstare him.

Nor.

Stay, my lord,

And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about. 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.

Nor.

Be advis'd;

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: we may outrun,
By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running. Be advis'd:
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself,
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.

Buck.

Sir,