Not friended by his wifh, to your high perfon
His will is moft malignant; and it ftretches
Beyond you to your friends.

Queen. My learn'd lord cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.

King. Speak on;

How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail? to this point haft thou heard him
At any time speak aught?

Surv. He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
King. What was that Hopkins?

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confeffor; who fed him every minute
With words of fovereignty.

King. How know'st thou this?

Surv. Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rofe, within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I reply'd, Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, To the king's danger. Prefently the duke Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, 'Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk; that oft, says he, Hath fent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of fome moment: Whom after under the confession's feal He folemnly bad fworn, that, what he spoke, My chaplain to no creature living, but

To me, hould utter; with demure confidence,

This paufingly enfu'd ;-Neither the king nor his heirs (Tell you the duke) shall profper: bid him ftrive For the love of the commonalty; the duke

Shall govern England.

Queen. If I know you well,

You were the duke's furveyor, and loft your office
On the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heed,
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And poil your nobler foul. I say, take heed ;
Yes, heartily I beseech you.

King. Let him on:

-Go forward.

Surv. On my foul, I'll fpeak but truth.

I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illufions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangʼrous, for him

To ruminate on this fo far, until

It forg'd him fome defign, which, being believ❜d,
It was much like to do. He anfwer'd, Tuf,

It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the king in his laft fickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovel's heads
Should have gone off.

King. Ha! what, fo rank (4) Ah, ha!

There's mischief in this man :-Canft thou say further ? Surv. I can, my liege.

King. Proceed.

Surv. Being at Greenwich,

After your highness had reprov'd the duke

About Sir William Blomer,

King. I remember

Of fuch a time. Being my fworn fervant,(5)
The duke retain'd him his. But on: what hence?
Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed,
As to the Tower, I thought; I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon

The ufurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury,
Made fuit to come in's prefence; which, if granted,
As he made femblance of his duty, would

Have put his knife into him.

King. A giant traitor !

Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom,, And this man out of prifon?

Queen. God mend all !

King. There's fomething more would out of thee;
What fay'ft?

Surv. After, the duke his father, with, the knife,
He ftretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenor
Was-Were he evil us'd, he would out-go

(4) Rank weeds, are weeds that are grown up to great height and ftrength. "What," fays the king, "was he advanced to this pitch?" JOH. (5) Sir Wm. Blomer was reprimanded by the king in the ftar-chamber, for that, being his fworn fervant, he had left the king's fervice for the duke of Buckingham's. Edwards's MSS. STEEV

His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irrefolute purpose.

King. There's his period,

To fheath his knife in us.

He is attach'd;

Call him to prefent trial: if he may

Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,

Let him not seek it of us: By day and night,
He's traitor to the height.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

An Apartment in the Palace. Enter the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord SANDS.

Cham. Is it poffible, the spells of France should juggle Men into fuch strange mysteries ?(6)

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,

Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

Cham. As far as I fee, all the good our English

Have got by the laft voyage, is but merely

A fit or two o' the face ;(7) but they are fhrewd ones; For, when they hold 'em, you would swear directly Their very nofes had been counsellors

To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep ftate fo.

Sands. They've all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it,

That never faw them pace before, the spavin

And ftringhalt reign'd among 'em.(8)

Cham. Death! my lord,

Their clothes are after fuch a pagan cut too,

That, fure, they have worn out Chriftendom. How now? -What news, Sir Thomas Lovel?

Enter Sir THOMAS LOVEL.

Lov. Faith, my lord,

I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.

(6) Mysteries were allegorical fhews, which the mummers of thofe times exhibited in odd and fantastic habits. Myfteries are used, by an easy figure, for thofe that exhibited myfteries; and the fenfe is that the travelled Englishmen were metamorphofed, by foreign fafhions, into fuch an uncouth appearance, that they looked like mummers in a mystery. JOHNS.

(7) A fit of the face feems to be what we now term a grimace, an artificial caft of the countenance. JOHNS.

(8) The ftringhalt is a disease incident to horfes, which gives them a convulfive motion in their paces. STEEV.

Cham. What is't for?

Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

Cham. I am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray our To think an English courtier may be wife, [monfieurs

And never see the Louvre.

Lov. They must either

(For fo run the conditions) leave those remnante
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto (as fights, and fire-works;
Abusing better men than they can be,

Out of a foreign wisdom), renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall ftockings,
Short bolfter'd breeches, and thofe types of travel,
And understand again like honeft men ;

Or pack to their old play-fellows there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away

The lag-end of their lewdnefs, and be laugh'd at. Sands. 'Tis time to give them phyfic, their diseases Are grown fo catching.

Cham. What a lofs our ladies

Will have of thefe trim vanities!

Lov. Ay, marry,

There will be woe indeed, lords: the fly whorefons Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;

A French fong and a fiddle has no fellow.

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they're going For, fure, there's no converting of 'em ; now An honeft country lord, as I am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plain-fong, And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady, Held current mufic too.

Cham. Well faid, lord Sands;

Your colt's tooth is not caft yet.

Sands. No, my lord;

Nor fhall not, while I have a stump.

Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a-going?

Lov. To the cardinal's;

Your lordfhip is a guest too.

Cham. O, 'tis true :

This night he makes a fupper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be

The beauty of this kingdom, I'll affure you.

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind, indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls ev'ry where.

Cham. No doubt, he's noble;

He had a black mouth, that faid other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; in him,
Sparing would fhew a worfe fin than ill doctrine :
Men of his way fhould be most liberal,
They are fet here for examples.

Cham. True, they are fo;

But few now give fo great ones. My barge ftays;
Your lordship fhall along :-Come, good Sir Thomas,
We fhall be late elfe; which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,
This night, to be comptrollers.
Sands. I am your lordship's

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Changes to York-Place. Hautboys. A fmall Table under a State for the Cardinal, a longer Table for the Guests. Then enter ANNE BULLEN, and divers other Ladies and Gentlewomen, as Guests, at one Door; at another Door, enter Sir HENRY GUILDFORD.

Guil. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes you all: This night he dedicates To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy,[9] has brought with her One care abroad; he would have all as merry As first-good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.-O, my lord, you are tardy; Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord SANDS, and LOVEL. The very thought of this fair company Clap'd wings to me.

Cham. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. Sands. Sir Thomas Lovel, had the cardinal But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they refted, I think, would better please 'em : By my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones.

(9) Milton has copied this word, 'A bevy of fair dames.' JOHNS.