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 to the King;

      I'll follow, and outstare him.

      Stay, my lord,

      And let your reason with your choler question

      What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills

      Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like

      A full hot horse, who being allow'd his way,

      Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England

      Can advise me like you; be to yourself

      As you would to your friend.

      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.

      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.

      Sir,

      I am thankful to you; and I'll go along

      By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow,

      Whom from the flow of gall 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.

      Say not "treasonous."

      To the 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 ravenous

      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, the interview,

      That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glass

      Did break i' the rinsing.

      Faith, and so it did.

      Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning Cardinal

      The articles o' the 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 the 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 the 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. He 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.

      I am sorry

      To hear this of him; and could wish he were

      Something mistaken in't.

      No, not a syllable:

      I do pronounce him in that very shape

      He shall appear in proof.

      BRANDON. Your office, sergeant; execute it.

      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.

      Lo, you, my lord,

      The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish

      Under device and practice.

      I am sorry

      To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on

      The business present. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure

      You shall to the Tower.

      It will help nothing

      To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me

      Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of Heaven

      Be done in this and all things! I obey.

      O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!

      Nay, he must bear you company.

      Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know

      How he determines further.

      As the Duke said,

      The will of Heaven be done, and the King's pleasure

      By me obey'd!

      Here is warrant from

      The King to attach Lord Montacute, and the