SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace. Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN and LORD SANDS. Cham. Is 't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries? Sands. New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counsellors That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin Cham. Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL. What news, Sir Thomas Lovell ? Lov. How now! Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation Cham. What is't for? Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Cham. I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre. Lov. They must either, For so run the conditions, leave those rem nants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honourable points of igno rance Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, Abusing better men than they can be Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings, Short blister'd breeches and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men, Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, They may, 'cum privilegio,' wear away The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going, For, sure, there's no converting of 'em : now And have an hour of hearing; and, by 'r lady, Held current music too. Cham. Sands. Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. Nor shall not, while I have a stump. Cham. Well said, Lord Sands; No, my lord; Sir Thomas, To the cardinal's: O, 'tis true: Whither were you a-going? Lov. Your lordship is a guest too. Cham. This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall every where. Cham. No doubt he 's noble; He had a black mouth that said other of him. Sands. He may, my lord; has where withal in him Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine : Men of his way should be most liberal; They are set here for examples. Cham. True, they are so ; My barge But few now give so great ones. stays; Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else; which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guild ford This night to be comptrollers. Sands. I am your lordship's. [exeunt. SCENE IV. A hall in York Place. Hautboys. A small table under a state for the CARDINAL, a longer table for the guests. Then enter ANNE BULLEN and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door; at another door, enter SIR HENRY GUILDFORD. Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates |