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 flawed the league, and hath attached

Our merchants’ goods at Bordeaux.

ABERGAVENNY

Is it therefore

Th’ambassador is silenced?

NORFOLK

Marry is’t.

ABERGAVENNY

A proper title of a peace, and purchased

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 no

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 containing the great seal borne before him. Enter with 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

CARDINAL WOLSEY (to a secretary)

The Duke of Buckingham’s surveyor, ha?

Where’s his examination?

SECRETARY

Here, so please you.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

Is he in person ready?

SECRETARY

Ay, please your grace.

CARDINAL 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-mouthed, 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 chafed?

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 reviled

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 you go about. To climb steep hills

Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like

A full hot horse who, being allowed 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.

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 advised.

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 advised.

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 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.

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, reciprocatly—

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’ rinsing.

NORFOLK

Faith, and so it did.

BUCKINGHAM

Pray give me favour, sir. This cunning Cardinal,

The articles o‘th’ combination drew

As himself pleased, and they were ratified 170

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

Peeped harms that menaced him. Privily he

Deals with our Cardinal and, as I trow—

Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor