There will be woe indeed, lords; the fly whorefons Sands. The devil fiddle 'em; I'm glad they're going, A long time out of play, may bring his plain fong, Cham. Well faid, lord Sands, Nor fhall not, while I have a stump. Whither are you going? Lov. To the Cardinal's; Your lordship is a guest too. This night he makes a fupper, and a great one, The beauty of this kingdom, I'll affure you. Lov. The churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed; 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.' Sands. He may, my lord, h'as wherewithal in him; Sparing would fhew a worfe fin than ill doctrine. Men of his way should be moft liberal, They're fet here for examples. Cham. True, they are fo; But few now give fo great ones: my barge ftays; For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford, Sands. I'm your lordship's. Exeunt. SCENE SCENE VII. 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 gentlemen, as guests, at one door; at another door enter Sir Henry Guilford. Guil. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace To fair content and you: none here he hopes, As, firft, good company, good wine, good welcome, Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands and Lovell. O my lord, y'are tardy; The very thoughts of this fair company Clap'd wings to me. Cham. You're young, Sir Harry Guilford. Sand. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal But half my lay-thoughts in him, fome of thefe Should find a running banquet ere they refted; I think would better pleafe 'em: by my life, They are a fweet faciety of fair ones Lov. O that your lordship were but now confeffor To one or two of thefe.. Sands. I would I were, They fhould find eafie penance. Lov. 'Faith, how eafy? Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it. Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you fit: Sir Harry, Place you that fide, I'll take the charge of this: His grace is entring; nay you must not freeze: Two women plac'd together make cold weather: My lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking; Pray fit between thefe ladies. Sands. By my faith, And thank your lordship. By your leave sweet ladies; If If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me: Anne. Was he mad, Sir? Sands. O very mad, exceeding mad in love too; Cham. Well faid, my lord: So now y'are fairly feated: gentlemen, Sands For my little cue, Let me alone. Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his state. Wal. Y'are welcome, my fair guefts; that noble lady Is not my friend. This to confirm my welcome, Sands. Your Grace is noble: Let me have fuch a bowl may hold my thanks, Wol. My lord Sands, I am beholden to you; cheer your neighbour; Sands: The red Wine first must rife In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have 'em Anne. You're a merry gamefter, My lord Sands. Sands. Yes, if I make my play, Here's to your lady fhip, and pledge it, madam: Anne. You cannot fhew me.. Sands. I told your Grace that they would talk anon. [Drum and trumpets, chambers discharged. Wol. What's that? Cham. Look out there, fome, of ye. Wel. What warlike voice, And And to what end is this? nay, ladies, fear not; Enter a Servant. Cham. How now, what is't? Ser. A noble troop of ftrangers, For fo they feem, have left their barge, and landed, And hither make, as great ambaffadors From foreign Princes Wol. Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give 'em welcome; you can fpeak the French tongue, And pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em Hautboys. Enter King and others as maskers, habited like Shepherds, usher'd by the Lord Chamberlain. They pafs directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully falute him. A noble company! what are their pleasures? Cham, Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd This night to meet here, they could do no lefs, Wol. Say, Lord Chamberlain, They've done my poor houfe grace: for which I pay 'em A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures. [Chufe ladies, King and Anne Bullen. King. The faireft hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, Till now I never knew thee. [Mufick. Dance. Wol. Wol. My lord. Cham. Your Grace? Wel. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: Cham. I will, my lord. Wol. What fay they? Cham. Such a one, they all confess, [Whisper. There is indeed, which they would have your Grace Find out, and he will take it. Wol. Let me fee then: By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make My royal choice. King. You've found him, Cardinal : You hold a fair affembly: you do well, lord. Wel. I am glad . Your Grace is grown fo pleasant. King. My lord Chamberlain, Pry'thee come hither, what fair lady's that? Cham. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter, (The Viscount Rochford,) one of her Highness' women. Let it go round. Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready I'th' privy chamber? Lov. Yes, my lord. Wol. Your Grace, I fear, with dancing is a little heated. King. I fear too much. Wol. There's fresher air, my lord, In the next chamber. King. Lead in your ladies every one: sweet partner, I must not yet forfake you; let's be merry, B Good |