Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.

I told my Lord the Duke, By the devil's illusions
This monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas
dang'rous for him,
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
It was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush!
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That, had the King in his last sickness fail'd,
The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.

K. Hen. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha!
There's mischief in this man:

say further?

Surv. I can, my Liege.

K. Hen. Proceed.

Surv. Being at Greenwich,

Canst thou

After your Highness had reprov'd the Duke

About Sir William Blomer,

K. Hen. I remember

Of such a time:*

Being my sworn servant,

The Duke retain'd him his.

hence?

But on; What

Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been com

mitted,

As, to the Tower, I thought, — I would have

play'd

The part my father meant to act upon

The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted,

As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.
K. Hen. A giant traitor!

Wol. Now, Madam, may his Highness live in freedom,

And this man out of prison?

Q. Kath. God mend all! K. Hen. There's something more would out of thee; What say'st?

Surv. After the Duke his father,

the knife,

-

with

He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger,

Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horfible oath; whose tenour
Was, Were he evil us'd, he would out-go
His father, by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.

K. Hen. There's his period,

To sheath his knife in us.

He is attach'd;

Call him to present trial: 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 III.

A Room in the Palace.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord SANDS,

Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should juggle

Men into such strange mysteries?*

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,

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

Cha m. 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 shrew'd

ones;

For when they hold them, you would swear direetly,

Their very noses had been counsellors

To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it,

That never saw them, pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt reign'd among them.
Cham. Death! my Lord,.

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,

That, sure, they have 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 clapp'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 am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray

our monsieurs

To think an English courtier may he wise,
And never see the Louvre,

Lov. They must either

(For so run the conditions,) leave these remnants Of fool, and feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto, (as fights and fireworks; Abusing better men than they can be,

Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing cleau

The faith they have in tennis, and talb 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 them physick, their diseases

Are crown so catching.

Cham. What a loss qur ladies Will have of these trim vanites! Lov. Ay, marry,

There will be woe indeed, Lords; the sly whore

sons

Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
A Freuch song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle them! I am glad they're
going

(For, sure, there's no converting of them;) now An honest country lord, as. I am, beaten

A long time out of play, may bring his plain

And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-lady,
Held ourrent musick too.

Cham. Well said, Lord Sands;

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands. No, my Lord;

Noy shall not, while I have a stump.

Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither were 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. 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, he 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;

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; Your Lordship shall along:

Thomas,

Come, good Sir

Whe shall be late else; 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.

The Presence- Chamber in York-Place.

Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Enter at one door, ANNE BULLEN, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as guests; at another door, enter Sir HENRY GUILD

FORD.

Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his
Grace

Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates
To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes,