I've heard him utter to his fon-in law,

Lord Aberga'nny; to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the Cardinal.

Wol. Pleate your Highnefs, note

His dangerous conception in this point:
Not fiended 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 fpeak aught?

Surv. He was brought to this,

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

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux frier,

His confeffor, who fed him ev'ry minute
With words of fov'reignty.

King. How know'st thou this?

Surv. Not long before your Highnefs fped to France, The Duke being at the Rofe, within the parish

St Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the fpeech 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, fays 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:
Who after under the confeffion's feal

"He folemnly had fworn, that what he spoke
My chaplain to no creature living, but

To me, fhou'd utter; with confidence demure,

Thus paufingly enfu'd;-Neither the King nor's heirs
(Tell you the Duke) fhall profper; bid him ftrive
To gain the love o' th' commonalty; the Duke
Shall govern England.-

Queen. If I know you well,

You were the Duke's furveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o' th' tenants: take good heed,
You charge not in your fpleen a noble perfon,
And fpoil your noble foul; I fay, take heed;
Yes, heartily I beseech you.

King. Let him on.

Go forward.

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

I told my Lord the Duke, by th' devil's illufions
The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang❜rous
For him to ruminate on this, until

It forg'd him fome defign; which, being believ'd,

It was much like to do. He answer'd, Tufh,
It can do me no damage: adding further,
That had the King in his last fickness fail'd,
The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.

King Ha! what fo rank? ah ha

There's mifchief in this man.

Surv. I can, my Liege.

King. Proceed.

Surv. Being at Greenwich,

Canft thou fay further?

After your Highnefs had reprov'd the Duke
About Sir William Blomer

King. I remember

Of fuch a time, he being my fworn servant,
The Duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?
Surv If, quoth he, I for this had been committed
To the Tower, as I thought; I would have play'd ̧
The part my father meant to act upon

Th' ufurper Richard, who, being at Salisbury,
Made fuit to come in's prefence; which if granted,
(As he made femblance of his duty), he would
Have put his knife into him.

King A giant-traitor!

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

And this man out of prifon?

Queen. God mend all!

[dom,

King. here's fomething more would out of thee;

what fay'ft?

Surv. After the Duke his father with the knife,

He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
Another fpread on's breaft, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenor
Was, were he evil-us'd, he would outgo
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 feek't of us: by day and night,
He's traitor to the height.

[Exeunt SCENE VI. An apartment in the palace.

4

Enter Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands.

Cham. Is't poffible the fpells of France fhould juggle Men into fuch ftrange mockeries?

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never fo 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 last voyage, is but merely

A fit or two o' th' face: but they are fhrewd ones;
For when they hold 'em, you would swear direâly
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 'em pace before), the spavin

And ftring-halt reign d among 'em.

Cham. Death! my Lord,

Their cloaths are after fuch a Pagan cut too,

That, fure, 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 clapp'd upon the cout-gate.

Cham. What is't for?

• Irrefolute, for unperformed simply.

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
Monfieurs

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

Lov. They must either

(For fo 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;
Abufing better men than they can be,

"Out of a foreign wifdom; clean renouncing
"The faith they have in tennis, and tall ftockings,
"Short bolster'd breeches, and thofe 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 lewdnefs, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. 'Tis time to give them phyfic, their difeafes
Are grown fo catching,

Cham. What a lofs our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities?

Lov. Ay, marry,

There will be woe indeed, Lords; the fly whor fons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies:

A French fong and a fiddle has no fellow.

[ing:

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I'm glad they're go-
For, fure, 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 music 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 ftump.
Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither are you 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 in

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.

[deed;

Sands. He may, my Lord, h'as wherewithal: in him Sparing would fhew a worfe fin than ill doctrine.

Men of his way fhould be moft liberal,

They're fet here for examples.

Cham True, they are fo;

But few now give fo great ones. My barge ftays; Your Lo dfhip thall along: come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late elfe, 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.

SCENE VII.

[Exeunt.

Changes to York-house.

Hautboys. A fmall table under a ftate for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen, and divers other ladies and gentlewomen, as guefts, at one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guilford. Guil. Ladies, a gen'ral 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, has brought with her
One care abroad: he would have all as merry,

As, firft, good company, then good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.

Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Lovell.

O my Lord, y'are tardy;

The very thoughts of this fair company

Clapp'd wings to me.

Cham. You're young, Sir Harry Guilford,

Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, fome of theie
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think would better pleafe 'em: by my life,