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As to the Tower, I thought; I would have plaid
The part my father meant to act upon

Th' ufurper Richard, who being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in's prefence; which, if granted,
(As he made semblance 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 something more would out of thee;

what say'st?

Surv. After the Duke his father with the knife,
He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenour.
Was, were he evil us'd, he would out-go
His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irrefolute purpose.

King. There's his period,
To theath his knife in us: he is attach'd,
Call him to present tryal; if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us: by day and night
He's traitor to the height.

SCENE VI.

[Exeunt

Enter Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands.

Chamb. S't poffible the spells of France should juggle
I 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 last voyage, is but meerly
A fit or two o'th' face, but they are shrewd ones;
For when they held 'em, you would swear directly

Their

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Their very nofses had been counsellors
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.

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

would take it.

(That never faw 'em pace before) the spavin And fpring-halt reign'd among 'em.

Cham. Death! nay lord,

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,

That sure they've worn out Christendom: how now!

What news Sir Thomas Lovell?

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.

Lov. 'Faith, my lord,

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

Monfieurs

To think an English courtier may be wife,
And never fee the Louvre.

Lov. They must either

(For so run the conditions) leave those remnants
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, clean renouncing
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short bolster'd breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men
Or pack to their old play-fellows; 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 them physick, their diseases

are grown so catching.

Cham. What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities?
Lov. Ay marry,

There

There will be woe indeed, lords; the fly whoresons
Have gota speeding trick to lay down ladies:
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em; I'm glad they're going,

For sure there's no converting 'em: now Sirs,
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 musick too.

Cham. Well faid, lord Sands,
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet?
Sands. No, my lord,

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither are you going?

Lov. To the Cardinal's;
Your lordship is a guest too.
Cham. O, 'tis true;

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. The 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, h'as wherewithal in him; Sparing would shew a worse sin than ill doctrine. Men of his way should be most liberal,

They're fet here for examples.

Cham. True, they are fo;

But few now give so great ones: my barge 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 Guilford,

This night to be comptrollers.

Sands. I'm your lordship's.

Exeunt.

SCENE SCENE VII.

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 Guilford.

Guil. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
Salutes ye all: this night he dedicates

To fair content and you: none here he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, 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.

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Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands and Lovell.

O my lord, y'are tardy;
The very thoughts of this fair company
Clap'd wings to me.

Cham. You're young, Sir Harry Guilford.
Sand. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested;
I think would better please 'em: by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones

Lov. O that your lordship were but now confessor To one or two of these.

Sands. I would I were,

They should find easie penance.
Lov. 'Faith, how easy?

Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it.
Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you fit: Sir Harry,

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this:
His grace is entring; nay you must not freeze:
Two women plac'd together make cold weather:
My lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking;
Pray fit between these ladies.

Sands. By my faith,

And thank your lordship. By your leave sweet ladies,

If

If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me:
I had it from my father.

Anne. Was he mad, Sir?

Sands. O very mad, exceeding mad in love too;

But he would bite none; just as I do now,
He'd kiss you twenty with a breath.

Cham. Well faid, my lord:
So now y'are fairly seated: gentlemen,
The penance lyes on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cue,

Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolfey, and takes his state.

Wol. Y'are welcome, my fair guests; that noble lady Or gentleman that is not freely merry Isnot my friend. This to confirm my welcome, And to you all good health.

Sands. Your Grace is noble:

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.

Wol. My lord Sands,

I am beholden to you; cheer your neighbour:
Ladies, you are not merry; gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?

Sands. The red Wine first must rife
In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have 'em
Talk us to filence.

Anne. You're a merry gamester,

My lord Sands.

Sands. Yes, if I make my play,

Here's to your ladyship, and pledge it, madam:
For 'tis to fuch a thing -

Anne. You cannot shew me.

Sands. I told your Grace that they would talk anon.

[Drum and trumpets, chambers discharged.

Wol. What's that?

Cham. Look out there, some of ye.

Wol. What warlike voice,

And

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