Act I, Scene 3
London. An ante-chamber in the palace.
- Enter Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.
Lord Chamberlain1 - 2
- Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle
- Men into such strange mysteries?
Lord Sands3 - 5
- New customs,
- Though they be never so ridiculous
- (Nay, let ’em be unmanly), yet are follow’d.
Lord Chamberlain6 - 11
- As far as I see, all the good our English
- Have got by the late voyage is but merely
- A fit or two o’ th’ face—but they are shrewd ones,
- For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly
- Their very noses had been councillors
- To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
Lord Sands12 - 14
- They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it,
- That never see ’em pace before, the spavin
- And springhalt reign’d among ’em.
Lord Chamberlain15 - 19
- Death, my lord,
- Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to’t,
- That sure th’ have worn out Christendom.
- Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
- How now?
- What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Sir Thomas Lovell20 - 22
- Faith, my lord,
- I hear of none but the new proclamation
- That’s clapp’d upon the court gate.
- What is’t for?
Sir Thomas Lovell24 - 25
- The reformation of our travel’d gallants,
- That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Lord Chamberlain26 - 28
- I’m glad ’tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs
- To think an English courtier may be wise
- And never see the Louvre.
Sir Thomas Lovell29 - 41
- They must either
- (For so run the conditions) leave those remnants
- Of fool and feather that they got in France,
- With all their honorable points 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 blist’red 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, “oui” away
- The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh’d at.
Lord Sands42 - 43
- ’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
- Are grown so catching.
Lord Chamberlain44 - 45
- What a loss our ladies
- Will have of these trim vanities!
Sir Thomas Lovell46 - 49
- Ay, marry,
- 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.
Lord Sands50 - 55
- The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,
- 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 plain-song
- And have an hour of hearing, and, by’r lady,
- Held current music too.
Lord Chamberlain56 - 57
- Well said, Lord Sands,
- Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet?
Lord Sands58 - 59
- No, my lord,
- Nor shall not while I have a stump.
Lord Chamberlain60 - 61
- Sir Thomas,
- Whither were you a-going?
Sir Thomas Lovell62 - 63
- To the Cardinal’s.
- Your lordship is a guest too.
Lord Chamberlain64 - 67
- 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.
Sir Thomas Lovell68 - 70
- That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
- A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
- His dews fall every where.
Lord Chamberlain71 - 72
- No doubt he’s noble;
- He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Lord Sands73 - 76
- He may, my lord, h’as wherewithal: 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.
Lord Chamberlain77 - 82
- True, they are so;
- 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.
- I am your lordship’s.