Уильям Шекспир - The Life of Henry the Eighth стр 2.

The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha?
Where's his examination?

Here, so please you.

Is he in person ready?

Ay, please your Grace.

Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.

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.

What, are you chaf'd?
Ask God for temp'rance; that's the appliance only
Which your disease requires.

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 bodies
Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,

So, so;
These are the limbs o' the plot. No more, I hope?

A monk o' the Chartreux.

O, Nicholas Hopkins?

He.

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 dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell.