you would to your friend.
BUCKINGHAM. I'll to the King,
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim
There's difference in no persons.
NORFOLK. 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. Know you not
The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er
In seeming to augment it wastes it? 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.
BUCKINGHAM. Sir,
I am thankful to you, and I'll go along
By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow-
Whom from the flow of gan I name not, but
From sincere motions, by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July when
We see each grain of gravel-I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.
NORFOLK. Say not treasonous.
BUCKINGHAM. To th' King I'll say't, and make my vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend: this holy fox,
Or wolf, or both-for he is equal rav'nous
As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief
As able to perform't, his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally-
Only to show his pomp as well in France
As here at home, suggests the King our master
To this last costly treaty, th' interview
That swallowed so much treasure and like a glass
Did break i' th' wrenching.
NORFOLK. Faith, and so it did.
BUCKINGHAM. Pray, give me favour, sir; this cunning cardinal
The articles o' th' combination drew
As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified
As he cried 'Thus let be' to as much end
As give a crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To th' old dam treason: Charles the Emperor,
Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt-
For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey-here makes visitation-
His fears were that the interview betwixt
England and France might through their amity
Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
Peep'd harms that menac'd him-privily
Deals with our Cardinal; and, as I trow-
Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor
Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd-but when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold, the Emperor thus desir'd,
That he would please to alter the King's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know,
As soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.
NORFOLK. I am sorry
To hear this of him, and could wish he were
Something mistaken in't.
BUCKINGHAM. No, not a syllable:
I do pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appear in proof.
BRANDON. Your office, sergeant: execute it.
SERGEANT. Sir,
My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign King.
BUCKINGHAM. Lo you, my lord,
The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish
Under device and practice.
BRANDON. I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present; 'tis his Highness' pleasure
You shall to th' Tower.
BUCKINGHAM. It will help nothing
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heav'n
Be done in this and all things! I obey.
O my Lord Aberga'ny, fare you well!
BRANDON. Nay, he must bear you company.
[To ABERGAVENNY] The King
Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know
How he determines further.
ABERGAVENNY. As the Duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the King's pleasure
By me obey'd.
BRANDON. Here is warrant from
The King t' attach Lord Montacute and the bodies
Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor-
BUCKINGHAM. So, so!
These are the limbs o' th' plot; no more, I hope.
BRANDON. A monk o' th' Chartreux.
BUCKINGHAM. O, Nicholas Hopkins?
BRANDON. He.
BUCKINGHAM. My surveyor is false. The o'er-great Cardinal
Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already.
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on
By