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| The Life of King Henry the Eighth |
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| Henry VIII
| Act 1, Scene 3
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Enter Chamberlain and SANDSChamberlain
Is't possible the spells of France should juggleSANDS
Men into such strange mysteries?
New customs,Chamberlain
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
As far as I see, all the good our EnglishSANDS
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
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,Chamberlain
That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
Death! my lord,LOVELL
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.
Enter LOVELL
How now!
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Faith, my lord,Chamberlain
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
What is't for?LOVELL
The reformation of our travell'd gallants,Chamberlain
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieursLOVELL
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
They must either,SANDS
For so run the conditions, leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honourable point of ignorance
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.
'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseasesChamberlain
Are grown so catching.
What a loss our ladiesLOVELL
Will have of these trim vanities!
Ay, marry,SANDS
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.
The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,Chamberlain
For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong
And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Held current music too.
Well said, Lord Sands;SANDS
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
No, my lord;Chamberlain
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Sir Thomas,LOVELL
Whither were you a-going?
To the cardinal's:Chamberlain
Your lordship is a guest too.
O, 'tis true:LOVELL
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.
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,Chamberlain
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.
No doubt he's noble;SANDS
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in himChamberlain
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal;
They are set here for examples.
True, they are so:SANDS
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 Guildford
This night to be comptrollers.
I am your lordship's.
Exeunt
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Shakespeare homepage
| Henry VIII
| Act 1, Scene 3
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