Imatges de pÓgina

There will be woe indeed, lords; the fly whorefons
Have gota fpeeding trick to lay down ladies:
A French fong and a fiddle has no fellow.

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em; I'm glad they're going,
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 mufick 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 lordship is a guest too.
Cham. O, 'tis true;

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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. 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 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 stays;
Your lordfhip fhall along: come, good Sir Thomas,
We fhall be late elfe, which I would not be,
For I was fpoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford,
This night to be comptrollers.

Sands. I'm your lordship's.




Hautboys. A Small 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 Salutes ye 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, 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
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, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they refted; I think would better pleafe 'em: by my life, They are a fweet fociety of fair ones

Lov. O that your lordship were but now confeffor To one or two of these.

Sands. I would I were,,

They fhould find eafie penance.

Lov. 'Faith, how easy?

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 fweet ladies


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If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me:
I had it from my father.

Anne. Was he mad, Sir?

Sands. O very mad, exceeding mad in love too;
But he would bite none; juft as I do now,
He'd kiss you twenty with a breath.
Cham. Well faid, my lord:

So now y'are fairly feated: gentlemen,
The penance lyes on you, if these fair ladies
Pafs away frowning.

Sands. For my little cue,

Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolfey, and takes his ftate.

Wol. Y'are welcome, my fair guefts; that noble lady
Or gentleman that is not freely merry

Is not my friend. This to confirm my welcome,
And to you all good health.

Sands. Your Grace is noble:

Let me have fuch a bowl may hold my thanks,
And fave me fo much talking.

Wol. My lord Sands,

I am beholden to you; cheer your neighbour:
Ladies, you are not merry; gentlemen,
Whofe fault is this?


Sands. The red Wine firft must rife

In their fair cheeks, my lord, then we shall have 'em
Talk us to filence.

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:
For 'tis to fuch a thing

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.
Wol. What warlike voice,


And to what end is this? nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war y'are privileged.

Enter a Servant.

Cham. How now, what is't?

Ser. A noble troop of strangers,

For fo they feem, have left their barge, and landed, And hither make, as great ambassadors

From foreign Princes

Wol. Good Lord Chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue,

And pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our prefence, where this heav'n of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.'
All arife, and tables removed.
You've now a broken banquet, but we'll mend it,
A good digeftion to you all; and once more
I fhowre a welcome on ye: welcome all.

Hautboys. Enter King and others as maskers, habited like Shepherds, ufher'd by the Lord Chamberlain. They pafs directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully falute him..

A noble company! what are their pleafures?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd
To tell your Grace, that having heard by fame
Of this fo noble and so fair affembly,

This night to meet here, they could do no lefs,
Out of the great refpect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks, and under your fair conduct
Crave leave to view thefe ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with 'em.

Wol. Say, Lord Chamberlain,

They've done my poor houfe grace: for which I pay


A thoufand 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. My lord.

Cham. Your Grace?

Wol. Pray tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em by his perfon
More worthy this place than my felf, to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would furrender it.

Cham. I will, my lord.
Wol. What fay they?

Cham. Such a one, they all confefs,,
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.
You are a church-man, or I'll tell you, Cardinal,
I fhould judge you unhappily,

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,

King. I fear too much.

Wol. There's frefher air, my lord,

(The Viscount Rochford,) one of her Highness' women.
King. By heaven fhe's a dainty one: fweet heart,
I were unmannerly to take you out, [To Anne Bullen.
And not to kifs you. A health, gentlemen,
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.

In the next chamber.

King. Lead in your ladies every one: sweet partner, I must not yet forfake you: let's be merry,



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