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Whither away so fast?
Where are you rushing off to so quickly?
O, God save ye! Even to the hall, to hear what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
Oh, God bless you! I’m heading to the hall, to hear what will happen To the great Duke of Buckingham.
I’ll save you That labour, sir. All’s now done, but the ceremony Of bringing back the prisoner.
I’ll save you The trouble, sir. Everything’s done now, except the formalities Of bringing back the prisoner.
Were you there?
Were you there?
Yes, indeed, was I.
Yes, indeed, I was.
Pray, speak what has happen’d.
Please, tell me what happened.
You may guess quickly what.
You can probably guess quickly.
Is he found guilty?
Was he found guilty?
Yes, truly is he, and condemn’d upon’t.
Yes, indeed, he was, and sentenced for it.
I am sorry for’t.
I’m sorry to hear that.
So are a number more.
So are many others.
But, pray, how pass’d it?
But, please, how did it go?
I’ll tell you in a little. The great duke Came to the bar; where to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty and alleged Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The king’s attorney on the contrary Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired To have brought viva voce to his face: At which appear’d against him his surveyor; Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car, Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, Hopkins, that made this mischief.
I’ll tell you in a moment. The great duke Came to the court; where, in response to the charges He still pleaded not guilty and gave Many strong reasons to argue against the law. The king’s attorney, on the other hand, Pushed forward the investigations, evidence, and confessions Of several witnesses; which the duke wanted To have presented in person to his face: And against him appeared his surveyor; Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John Car, His confessor; along with that devilish monk, Hopkins, who caused all this trouble.
That was he That fed him with his prophecies?
That was the man Who told him his prophecies?
The same. All these accused him strongly; which he fain Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: And so 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.
Yes, that’s the one. All these people accused him strongly; he would have liked To deny it, but he couldn’t: So, based on this evidence, His peers found him guilty of high treason. He said a lot And spoke knowledgeably about life; but in the end, Everything was either pity for him or forgotten.
After all this, how did he bear himself?
After all that, how did he act?
When he was brought again to the bar, to hear His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr’d With such an agony, he sweat extremely, And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himself again, and sweetly In all the rest show’d a most noble patience.
When he was brought back to the courtroom to hear His death sentence, he was so shaken With such agony that he sweated heavily, And said some angry, hasty words: But then he calmed down and showed, in the end, A very noble patience.
I do not think he fears death.
I don’t think he’s afraid of death.
Sure, he does not: He never was so womanish; the cause He may a little grieve at.
I’m sure he’s not: He was never that weak; though I suppose He might feel some sorrow.
Certainly The cardinal is the end of this.
It’s clear The cardinal is behind all of this.
’Tis likely, By all conjectures: first, Kildare’s attainder, Then deputy of Ireland; who removed, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father.
It’s likely, Based on everything we know: first, Kildare’s conviction, Then the deputy of Ireland; when he was removed, Earl Surrey was sent there quickly, To prevent him from helping his father.
That trick of state Was a deep envious one.
That political move Was a very spiteful one.
At his return No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, And generally, whoever the king favours, The cardinal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too.
When he returns, There’s no doubt he’ll get back at them. This is well-known, And in general, anyone the king supports, The cardinal will find a way to work with them, But far away from the court.
All the commons Hate him perniciously, and, o’ my conscience, Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy;--
The common people Hate him intensely, and, honestly, Wish him dead: this duke, on the other hand, They love and adore; they call him generous Buckingham, The perfect example of all courtesy;--
Stay there, sir, And see the noble ruin’d man you speak of.
Wait, sir, And watch the noble man you’re talking about, as he’s ruined.
Let’s stand close, and behold him.
Let’s stand close and watch him.
All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day received a traitor’s judgment, And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness, And if I have a co nscience, let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! The law I bear no malice for my death; ’T has done, upon the premises, but justice: But those that sought it I could wish more Christians: Be what they will, I heartily forgive ’em: Yet let ’em look they glory not in mischief, Nor build their evils on the graves of great men; For then my guiltless blood must cry against ’em. For further life in this world I ne’er hope, Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me, 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 sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o’ God’s name.
Good people, You who’ve come this far to pity me, Listen to what I have to say, then go home and forget me. Today, I’ve received the judgment of a traitor, And by that title, I must die; but, heaven bear witness, If I have a conscience, may it drown me, Just as the axe falls, if I am not faithful! I bear no ill will toward the law for my death; It has done what justice required: But those who pushed for it, I wish were more merciful: Whatever they may be, I forgive them with all my heart: But they must not take pride in their wrongdoing, Or build their successes on the graves of great men; For then my innocent blood will cry out against them. As for living any longer in this world, I have no hope, Nor will I beg for it, though the king may have more mercy Than I can ever be worthy of. You few who loved me, And are brave enough to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and companions, whom he must leave, Which is the bitterest part for him, even in death, Go with me, like good angels, to the end; And as the final blow of steel comes down on me, Make your prayers a sweet offering, And raise my soul to heaven. Lead on, in God’s name.
I do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
I beg your grace, for charity, If ever any hatred was hidden in your heart Against me, please forgive me sincerely now.
Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you As I would be forgiven: I forgive all; There cannot be those numberless offences ’Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: no black envy Shall mark 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 soul forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live Longer than I have time to tell his years! Ever beloved and loving may his rule be! And when old time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument!
Sir Thomas Lovell, I forgive you completely As I would want to be forgiven: I forgive everything; There are no endless offenses Against me that I can’t make peace with: No harsh jealousy Shall mark my grave. Give my respects to his grace; And if he speaks of Buckingham, please tell him You met him halfway to heaven: my prayers and hopes Are still for the king; and, until my soul leaves me, Shall call for blessings on him: may he live Longer than I have time to count his years! May his rule always be loved and loving! And when old age comes to take him to his end, May goodness and he be remembered as one!
To the water side I must conduct your grace; Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who undertakes you to your end.
I must take you to the water’s edge; Then give my charge to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who will take you to the end.
Prepare there, The duke is coming: see the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suits The greatness of his person.
Prepare there, The duke is coming: make sure the boat is ready; And outfit it with what suits The grandeur of his position.
Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was lord high constable And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun: Yet I am richer than my base accusers, That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it; And with that blood will make ’em one day groan for’t. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first raised head against usurping Richard, Flying for succor to his servant Banister, Being distress’d, was by that wretch betray’d, And without trial fell; God’s peace be with him! Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying My father’s loss, like a most royal prince, Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins, Made my name once more noble. Now his son, 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 say, 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 servants, by those men we loved most; A most unnatural and faithless service! 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 counsels 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 sink ye. All good people, Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell: And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!
No, Sir Nicholas, Leave it alone; my current status will only mock me. When I came here, I was lord high constable And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun: Yet I am richer than those who falsely accused me, Those who never understood what truth was: I now confirm it; And with that blood, I’ll make them regret it one day. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first stood against usurping Richard, Fleeing for help to his servant Banister, Was betrayed by that wretch, And died without trial; may God rest his soul! Henry the Seventh, succeeding, truly pitying My father’s loss, like a most royal prince, Restored me to my honors, and from the ruins, Made my name noble again. Now his son, Henry the Eighth, has taken all my life, honor, name, and everything That made me happy in one stroke, Forever removing it from the world. I had my trial, And, I must say, a noble one; which makes me, A little happier than my miserable father: Yet, in one way, our fates are the same: both Fell because of our servants, by the men we loved most; A most unnatural and faithless betrayal! Heaven has a purpose in everything: still, you who hear me, Know this for certain from a dying man: Where you are generous with your love and advice, Be sure you aren’t careless; for those you make friends And give your hearts to, once they see The slightest misfortune in your life, will turn away Like water flowing from you, never to return Except to drown you. All good people, Pray for me! I must leave you now: the last hour Of my long, weary life has come. Farewell: And when you speak of something sad, Tell how I fell. I’ve said all; and God forgive me!
O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their beads That were the authors.
Oh, this is heartbreaking! Sir, it brings, I fear, too many curses on those who caused it.
If the duke be guiltless, ’Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this.
If the duke is innocent, It’s full of sorrow: but I can hint to you Of an even greater disaster, if it happens, Worse than this.
Good angels keep it from us! What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?
Good angels protect us! What could it be? You don’t doubt my loyalty, do you, sir?
This secret is so weighty, ’twill require A strong faith to conceal it.
This secret is so serious, it will require A strong loyalty to keep it hidden.
Let me have it; I do not talk much.
Tell me; I don’t talk much.
I am confident, You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear A buzzing of a separation Between the king and Katharine?
I’m sure you will, sir: didn’t you recently hear A rumor about a separation Between the king and Katharine?
Yes, but it held not: For when the king once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the lord mayor straight To stop the rumor, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it.
Yes, but it didn’t last: For when the king heard about it, out of anger He immediately told the lord mayor To stop the rumor, and silence those who dared spread it.
But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now: for it grows again Fresher than e’er it was; and held for certain The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal, Or some about him near, have, out of malice To the good queen, possess’d him with a scruple That will undo her: to confirm this too, Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately; As all think, for this business.
But that rumor, sir, Has turned out to be true: it’s growing again, Stronger than ever; and it’s almost certain The king will go through with it. Either the cardinal, Or someone close to him, has, out of hatred For the good queen, convinced him of a doubt That will destroy her: to confirm this too, Cardinal Campeius has arrived, recently; As everyone thinks, for this matter.
’Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor For not bestowing on him, at his asking, The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed.
It’s the cardinal; And purely to get back at the emperor For not giving him, when he asked, The archbishopric of Toledo, this is the plan.
I think you have hit the mark: but is’t not cruel That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall.
I think you’re right: but isn’t it cruel That she should have to suffer for this? The cardinal Will get his way, and she will fall.
’Tis woful. We are too open here to argue this; Let’s think in private more.
It’s awful. We’re too exposed here to discuss this; Let’s talk more privately.