King Henry the Eighth. Уильям Шекспир

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King Henry the Eighth - Уильям Шекспир


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Who did guide-

          I mean, who set the body and the limbs

          Of this great sport together, as you guess?

        NORFOLK. One, certes, that promises no element

          In such a business.

        BUCKINGHAM. I pray you, who, my lord?

        NORFOLK. All this was ord'red by the good discretion

          Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

        BUCKINGHAM. The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed

          From his ambitious finger. What had he

          To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder

          That such a keech can with his very bulk

          Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun,

          And keep it from the earth.

        NORFOLK. Surely, sir,

          There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;

          For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace

          Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon

          For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied

          To eminent assistants, but spider-like,

          Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note

          The force of his own merit makes his way-

          A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys

          A place next to the King.

        ABERGAVENNY. I cannot tell

          What heaven hath given him-let some graver eye

          Pierce into that; but I can see his pride

          Peep through each part of him. Whence has he that?

          If not from hell, the devil is a niggard

          Or has given all before, and he begins

          A new hell in himself.

        BUCKINGHAM. Why the devil,

          Upon this French going out, took he upon him-

          Without the privity o' th' King-t' appoint

          Who should attend on him? He makes up the file

          Of all the gentry; for the most part such

          To whom as great a charge as little honour

          He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,

          The honourable board of council out,

          Must fetch him in he papers.

        ABERGAVENNY. I do know

          Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have

          By this so sicken'd their estates that never

          They shall abound as formerly.

        BUCKINGHAM. O, many

          Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em

          For this great journey. What did this vanity

          But minister communication of

          A most poor issue?

        NORFOLK. Grievingly I think

          The peace between the French and us not values

          The cost that did conclude it.

        BUCKINGHAM. Every man,

          After the hideous storm that follow'd, was

          A thing inspir'd, and, not consulting, broke

          Into a general prophecy-that this tempest,

          Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded

          The sudden breach on't.

        NORFOLK. Which is budded out;

          For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd

          Our merchants' goods at Bordeaux.

        ABERGAVENNY. Is it therefore

          Th' ambassador is silenc'd?

        NORFOLK. Marry, is't.

        ABERGAVENNY. A proper tide of a peace, and purchas'd

          At a superfluous rate!

        BUCKINGHAM. Why, all this business

          Our reverend Cardinal carried.

        NORFOLK. 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. Lo, where comes that rock

          That I advise your shunning.

      Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him, certain of the guard, and two SECRETARIES with papers. The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain

        WOLSEY. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor? Ha!

          Where's his examination?

        SECRETARY. Here, so please you.

        WOLSEY. Is he in person ready?

        SECRETARY. Ay, please your Grace.

        WOLSEY. Well, we shall then know more, and Buckingham

          shall lessen this big look.

                                                Exeunt WOLSEY and his

      train

        BUCKINGHAM. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I

          Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best

          Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book

          Outworths a noble's blood.

        NORFOLK. What, are you chaf'd?

          Ask God for temp'rance; that's th' appliance only

          Which your disease requires.

        BUCKINGHAM. 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 th' King;

          I'll follow, and outstare him.

        NORFOLK. Stay, my lord,

          And let your reason with your choler question

          What 'tis


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