King Henry The Eighth

1 Enter Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys.
2 CHAMBERLAIN.
3 Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle
4 Men into such strange mysteries?
5 SANDYS.
6 New customs,
7 Though they be never so ridiculous—
8 Nay, let ’em be unmanly—yet are followed.
9 CHAMBERLAIN.
10 As far as I see, all the good our English
11 Have got by the late voyage is but merely
12 A fit or two o’ th’ face; but they are shrewd ones,
13 For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly
14 Their very noses had been counsellors
15 To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
16 SANDYS.
17 They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,
18 That never saw ’em pace before, the spavin
19 Or springhalt reigned among ’em.
20 CHAMBERLAIN.
21 Death! My lord,
22 Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t,
23 That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.
24 Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
25 How now?
26 What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
27 LOVELL.
28 Faith, my lord,
29 I hear of none but the new proclamation
30 That’s clapped upon the court gate.
31 CHAMBERLAIN.
32 What is’t for?
33 LOVELL.
34 The reformation of our travelled gallants
35 That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
36 CHAMBERLAIN.
37 I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs
38 To think an English courtier may be wise
39 And never see the Louvre.
40 LOVELL.
41 They must either,
42 For so run the conditions, leave those remnants
43 Of fool and feather that they got in France,
44 With all their honourable points of ignorance
45 Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,
46 Abusing better men than they can be
47 Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
48 The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,
49 Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel,
50 And understand again like honest men,
51 Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it,
52 They may, _cum privilegio, oui_ away
53 The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.
54 SANDYS.
55 ’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
56 Are grown so catching.
57 CHAMBERLAIN.
58 What a loss our ladies
59 Will have of these trim vanities!
60 LOVELL.
61 Ay, marry,
62 There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresons
63 Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies.
64 A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
65 SANDYS.
66 The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,
67 For sure, there’s no converting of ’em. Now
68 An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
69 A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong
70 And have an hour of hearing, and, by ’r Lady,
71 Held current music too.
72 CHAMBERLAIN.
73 Well said, Lord Sandys.
74 Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.
75 SANDYS.
76 No, my lord,
77 Nor shall not while I have a stump.
78 CHAMBERLAIN.
79 Sir Thomas,
80 Whither were you a-going?
81 LOVELL.
82 To the Cardinal’s.
83 Your lordship is a guest too.
84 CHAMBERLAIN.
85 O, ’tis true.
86 This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
87 To many lords and ladies. There will be
88 The beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.
89 LOVELL.
90 That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
91 A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us.
92 His dews fall everywhere.
93 CHAMBERLAIN.
94 No doubt he’s noble;
95 He had a black mouth that said other of him.
96 SANDYS.
97 He may, my lord; has wherewithal. In him
98 Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine.
99 Men of his way should be most liberal;
100 They are set here for examples.
101 CHAMBERLAIN.
102 True, they are so,
103 But few now give so great ones. My barge stays.
104 Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
105 We shall be late else, which I would not be,
106 For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,
107 This night to be comptrollers.
108 SANDYS.
109 I am your lordship’s.
110 [_Exeunt._]