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My life itself, and the best heart of it, Thanks you for this great care: I stood i’ the level Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks To you that choked it. Let be call’d before us That gentleman of Buckingham’s; in person I’ll hear him his confessions justify; And point by point the treasons of his master He shall again relate.
My life itself, and the very best part of it, Thanks you for this great care: I was at the center Of a full conspiracy, and I thank you For stopping it. Let’s call before us That man from Buckingham’s family; in person I’ll hear him justify his confessions; And one by one, the treasons of his master He will repeat.
Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.
No, we must kneel longer: I am making a request.
Arise, and take place by us: half your suit Never name to us; you have half our power: The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; Repeat your will and take it.
Rise, and take a seat next to us: half of your request Don’t even mention to us; you already have half our power: The other half, before you even ask, is granted; Repeat your wish and take it.
Thank your majesty. That you would love yourself, and in that love Not unconsider’d leave your honour, nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition.
Thank you, Your Majesty. That you would care for yourself, and in that care Not thoughtlessly abandon your honor, nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my request.
Lady mine, proceed.
My lady, go on.
I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance: there have been commissions Sent down among ’em, which hath flaw’d the heart Of all their loyalties: wherein, although, My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you, as putter on Of these exactions, yet the king our master-- Whose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he escapes not Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty, and almost appears In loud rebellion.
I am being urged, not by just a few, And those of real standing, that your subjects Are in serious distress: there have been orders Sent out among them, which have damaged the heart Of all their loyalty: and although, My good lord cardinal, they speak harshly Most bitterly about you, as the one who imposed These burdens, yet the king our master— Whose honor heaven protect from disgrace!—even he Is not exempt From rude language, even language that almost breaks The bond of loyalty, and could be seen As open rebellion.
Not almost appears, It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them longing, have put off The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for other life, compell’d by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among then!
It doesn’t almost appear, It does appear; for, because of these taxes, The clothiers, unable to support The many people who depend on them, have let go The spinners, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for any other work, driven by hunger And lack of other options, in desperation Daring to face the consequences head-on, are all in chaos, And danger is spreading among them!
Taxation! Wherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal, You that are blamed for it alike with us, Know you of this taxation?
Taxation! What’s it about? And what kind of taxation is this? My lord cardinal, You who are blamed for it just like us, Do you know anything about this taxation?
Please you, sir, I know but of a single part, in aught Pertains to the state; and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me.
If you please, sir, I only know a small part, related to what Concerns the state; and only in the role Where others are also involved with me.
No, my lord, You know no more than others; but you frame Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions, Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Most pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear ’em, The back is sacrifice to the load. They say They are devised by you; or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation.
No, my lord, You know no more than anyone else; but you make up Things that are known to all, which aren’t good For those who don’t want to know them, but still have To become familiar with them. These taxes, Which my sovereign wants to be aware of, they are Very harmful to bear; and to bear them, The back becomes a sacrifice to the burden. They say They were devised by you; or else you’re suffering Too much criticism.
Still exaction! The nature of it? in what kind, let’s know, Is this exaction?
More taxes! What’s the nature of this? What kind, let’s find out, Is this tax?
I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience; but am bolden’d Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief Comes through commissions, which compel from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths: Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them; their curses now Live where their prayers did: and it’s come to pass, This tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. I would your highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer business.
I am being very bold In testing your patience; but I feel emboldened By your promised pardon. The people’s grief Comes from the orders, which demand from each A sixth of his wealth, to be collected Immediately; and the reason given for this Is your war in France: this gives people confidence: They speak their duties aloud, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them; their curses now Live where their prayers once did: and it’s come to this, This forced obedience is now a slave To every angry will. I wish your highness Would think on this carefully, because This is a matter of great importance.
By my life, This is against our pleasure.
By my life, This is against our will.
And for me, I have no further gone in this than by A single voice; and that not pass’d me but By learned approbation of the judges. If I am Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing, let me say ’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear To cope malicious censurers; which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimm’d, but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow’d; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For 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 sit State-statues only.
As for me, I’ve only gone this far in this matter with A single opinion; and that was approved By the learned judgment of the judges. If I am Maligned by ignorant people, who don’t know My abilities or my character, but still become The historians of my actions, let me say It’s just the fate of my position, and the rough path That virtue must sometimes walk. We can’t stop Our necessary actions, just because we’re afraid To face malicious critics; who always, Like hungry fish, follow a ship that’s just been fitted But don’t benefit from it beyond their empty longing. What we often do best, By unwell-intentioned critics, who are weak themselves, is Called not ours, or not allowed; what’s worst, as often, Hitting a cruder mark, gets praised as Our greatest act. If we stand still, Fearing our actions will be mocked or criticized, We should take root where we are, or sit As statues in the state.
Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear’d. Have you a precedent Of 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 take From 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 county Where this is question’d send our letters, with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission: pray, look to’t; I put it to your care.
Things done well, And with care, protect themselves from fear; Things done without a precedent, in the outcome Should be feared. Do you have any example Of this commission? I believe not. We cannot separate our subjects from our laws, And impose our will on them. A sixth of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take From every tree, branches, bark, and parts of the timber; And, though we leave it with the root, thus chopped, The air will still drink the sap. To every county Where this is questioned, send our letters, With free pardon to each man who has denied The power of this commission: please take care of it; I leave it to your judgment.
A word with you.
A word with you.
Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the king’s grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding.
Let letters be written to every county, Informing them of the king’s grace and pardon. The distressed people Can hardly understand me; let it be made known That through our intervention this cancellation And pardon comes: I will soon give you Further advice on how to proceed.
I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.
I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Has fallen out of favor with you.
It grieves many: The gentleman is learn’d, and a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound; his training such, That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Who was enroll’d ’mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravish’d listening, could not find His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmear’d in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear-- This was his gentleman in trust--of him Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited practises; whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
It saddens many: The man is learned, and a most eloquent speaker; To nature, none more devoted; his training so good, That he could teach and guide great scholars, And never seek help from anyone outside himself. Yet look, When these noble qualities go unappreciated, And the mind becomes corrupted, They turn into twisted forms, far uglier Than they ever were beautiful. This man, so complete, Who was counted among wonders, and when we, Almost entranced by his speech, could not find His moment of rest even for a minute; he, my lady, Has turned the graces that once were his into monstrous habits, And has become as black As if stained in hell. Sit with us; you’ll hear-- This was his trusted servant--about him Things that will deeply trouble our honor. Tell him to recount The previous actions; we cannot know too little, or hear too much.
Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
Step forward, and with bold spirit tell us what you, Like a faithful subject, have learned About the Duke of Buckingham.
Speak freely.
Speak freely.
First, it was usual with him, every day It would infect his speech, that if the king Should without issue die, he’ll carry it so To make the sceptre his: these very words I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced Revenge upon the cardinal.
First, it was common for him, every day It would show in his speech, that if the king Died without a child, he would use it to Claim the throne for himself: I’ve heard him say These exact words to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he threatened Revenge on the cardinal.
Please your highness, note This dangerous conception in this point. Not friended by by his wish, to your high person His will is most malignant; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends.
Please, your highness, note This dangerous thought in this matter. Not supported by his wish, to your high status His will is very harmful; and it extends Beyond you, to your friends.
My learn’d lord cardinal, Deliver all with charity.
My learned lord cardinal, Say everything with compassion.
Speak on: How grounded he his title to the crown, Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught?
Speak on: How does he justify his claim to the crown, Based on our failure? Have you ever heard him Say anything about it?
He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
He was led to this By a foolish prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
What was that Hopkins?
What was that Hopkins?
Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty.
Sir, a Carthusian monk, His confessor, who filled his head every minute With talk of power.
How know’st thou this?
How do you know this?
Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I replied, Men fear’d the French would prove perfidious, To the king’s danger. Presently the duke Said, ’twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted ’Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk; ’that oft,’ says he, ’Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment: Whom after under the confession’s seal He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke My chaplain to no creature living, but To me, should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensued: neither the king nor’s heirs, Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive To gain the love o’ the commonalty: the duke Shall govern England.’
Not long before your highness went to France, The duke, being at the Rose, in the parish Of Saint Lawrence Poultney, asked me What the people in London were saying About the French trip: I replied, People feared the French would betray us, Putting the king in danger. Immediately the duke Said, yes, it was indeed the fear; and that he doubted It would prove true, based on certain words Spoken by a holy monk; ’that often,’ he said, ’Has sent to me, asking me to let John de la Car, my chaplain, have a private meeting To hear from him something important: Who, later under the seal of confession, Swore solemnly that what he said My chaplain should not tell anyone, except Me, with full confidence. This followed: neither the king nor his heirs, The duke told you, shall succeed: tell him to try To win the love of the common people: the duke Shall rule England.’
If I know you well, You were the duke’s surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o’ the tenants: take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you.
If I know you well, You were the duke’s surveyor, and lost your position Because of complaints from the tenants: be careful Not to accuse a noble person out of anger And ruin your own soul: I say, be careful; Yes, I earnestly ask you.
Let him on. Go forward.
Let him continue. Go on.
On my soul, I’ll speak but truth. I told my lord the duke, by the devil’s illusions The monk might be deceived; and that ’twas dangerous for him To ruminate on this so far, until It forged him some design, which, being believed, It was much like to do: he answer’d, ’Tush, It can do me no damage;’ adding further, That, had the king in his last sickness fail’d, The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Should have gone off.
On my soul, I will speak only the truth. I told my lord the duke, that by the devil’s tricks The monk might be deceived; and that it was dangerous for him To dwell on this too much, lest It led him to some plan, which, if believed, Would be likely to happen: he replied, ’Tush, It can do me no harm;’ adding further, That, had the king died in his last sickness, The cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Would have been removed.
Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha! There’s mischief in this man: canst thou say further?
Ha! What, so serious? Ah ha! There’s something evil in this man: can you say more?
I can, my liege.
I can, my liege.
Proceed.
Continue.
Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reproved the duke About Sir William Blomer,--
I was at Greenwich, After your majesty had scolded the duke About Sir William Blomer,--
I remember Of such a time: being my sworn servant, The duke retain’d him his. But on; what hence?
I remember That time: he was my sworn servant, The duke kept him in his service. But go on; what happened next?
’If,’ quoth he, ’I for this had been committed, As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play’d The part my father meant to act upon The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in’s presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife to him.’
"If," he said, "I had been locked up for this, As I thought I would be, in the Tower, I would have acted The way my father planned to act against The usurper Richard; who, when he was at Salisbury, Tried to get an audience with the king; and if it had been granted, As he pretended to be loyal, he would Have stabbed him."
A giant traitor!
A huge traitor!
Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, and this man out of prison?
Now, madam, can his majesty live freely, And this man be released from prison?
God mend all!
God help us!
There’s something more would out of thee; what say’st?
There’s more you’re not saying; what do you mean?
After ’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 tenor Was,--were he evil used, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.
After saying ’the duke his father,’ with ’the knife,’ He lunged at him, and with one hand on his dagger, And the other hand on his chest, staring him down, He swore a terrible oath; the meaning of which was If he were treated badly, he would outdo His father, just as much as a final act Surpasses a half-formed intention.
There’s his period, To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach’d; Call him to present trial: if he may Find mercy in the law, ’tis his: if none, Let him not seek ’t of us: by day and night, He’s traitor to the height.
That’s the end of it, He planned to kill us. He’s arrested; Bring him to trial: if he can Find mercy under the law, he can have it; if not, Let him not ask it from us: by day and night, He’s a traitor to the fullest.