Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
King Speak freely.

Suro. First, it was ufual with him, ev'ry day
It would infect his fpeech, that if the King
Should without iffue die, he'd carry it lo
To make the fceptre his. Thefe very words
I've heard him utter to his fon-in-law,

Lord Aberga'ny, t' whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the Cardinal.

Wol. Pleafe your Highness, note

This dangerous conception in this point:
Not friended by his wifh to your high perfon,
His will is moft malignant, and it stretches

Bevond 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 hast thou heard him. At any time fpeak aught?

Surv. He was brought to this

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

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

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

King. How know'st thou this?

Surv. Not long before your Highness 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. Presently 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 wifhing, me to permit
John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of fome moment;
Whom, after under the confeflion's feal

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

To me, fhould utter; with demure confidence, Thus paufingly enfu'd;-Neither the King, nor's heirs,

(Tell you the Duke) fhall profper: bid him strive 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 loft your office On the complaint o' th' tenants.

Take good heed

You charge not in your spleen a noble perfon,
And fpoil your nobler foul

Yes, heartily I beseech you.

King. Let him on.

-Go forward.

I fay, take heed;

Surv. On my foul, I'll fpeak 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 anfwer'd, Tush, Adding further, That had the King in his laft fickness fail'd,

It can do me no damage.

The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovel's heads

Should have gone off.

King. Ha! what fo rank? ah, ha

There's mifchief in this man.

ther?

Suro, I can, my Liege.

King. Proceed.

Surv. Being at Greenwich,

Canft thou fay fur

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

King. I remember

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

Thufurper Richard, who, being at Salisbury,.

Made fuit to come in's prefence; which, if granted,
As he made femblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.

King. A giant traitor!

Wol. Now, Madam, may his Highness live in And this man out of prison?

Queen. God mend all!

[freedom,

King. There's fomething more would out of thee; what fay'ft?

Surv. After the Duke his father with the knife,-He ftretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on's breaft, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath, whofe tenour Was, were he evil-us'd, he would out-go 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

Enter Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands.

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

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never fo ridiculous,

Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

[juggle

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' the face †; but they are fhrewd ones; For when they hold 'em, you would fwear directly Their very noses had been counsellors

Strange mockeries. Warburton.

A fit of the face feems to be what we now term grimace, an artificial caft of the countenance. Johnsons

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 fpring-halt reign'd among 'em..

Cham. Death! my Lord.

Their cloaths are after fuch a Pagan cut too,

That, fure, they've worn out: Chriftendom. How What news, Sir Thomas Lovel?

Enter Sir Thomas Lovel.

Love Faith, my Lord,

I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clap'd upon the court gate.
Cham. What is't for?

[now?

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 wife,.
And never fee the Louvre.

Lov. They muft 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 wisdom, clean renouncing
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short-bolster'd breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honeft men,

Or pack to their old play-fellows; there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away

The lag-end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. Sands. 'Tis time to give them phyfic, their diseases 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 whorefons. Have got a speeding 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 mufic 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;

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 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 worse fin than ill doctrine.
Men of his way fhould be most liberal,
They're fet here for examples.

Cham.. True, they are fo;

But few now give fo great ones. My barge ftays;
Your Lordship 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.

५

[Exeunts