King Henry VIII | Page 8

choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment; Whom after under the confession's seal He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke My chaplain to no creature living but To me should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensu'd: 'Neither the King nor's heirs, Tell you the Duke, shall prosper. Bid him strive To gain the love o' the commonalty. The Duke Shall govern England."'
QUEEN KATHERINE. If I know you well, You were the Duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And spoil your nobler soul; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you.
KING. Let him on. Go forward.
SURVEYOR. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. I told my lord the Duke, by the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dangerous for him To ruminate on this so far, until It forg'd him some design; which, being believ'd, It was much like to do. He answer'd, "Tush, It can do me no damage;" adding further That, had the King in his last sickness fail'd, The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads Should have gone off.
KING. Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha! There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?
SURVEYOR. I can, my liege.
KING. Proceed.
SURVEYOR. Being at Greenwich, After your Highness had reprov'd the Duke About Sir William Bulmer,--
KING. I remember Of such a time; being my sworn servant, The Duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence?
SURVEYOR. "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 The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in 's presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him."
KING. A giant traitor!
WOLSEY. Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison?
QUEEN KATHERINE. God mend all!
KING. There's something more would out of thee; what say'st?
SURVEYOR. After "the Duke his father," with "the knife," He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour Was, were he evil us'd, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.
KING. There's his period, To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd. Call him to present trial. If he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek 't of us. By day and night, He's traitor to th' height.
[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace.
[Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys.]
CHAMBERLAIN. Is't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries?
SANDYS. New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
CHAMBERLAIN. As far as I see, all the good our English 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.
SANDYS. They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it, That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
CHAMBERLAIN. Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.
[Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.]
How now! What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
LOVELL. Faith, my lord, I hear of none, but the new proclamation That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
CHAMBERLAIN. What is't for?
LOVELL. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
CHAMBERLAIN. I'm glad 'tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre.
LOVELL. They must either, For so 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 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," wear away The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at.
SANDYS. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.
CHAMBERLAIN. What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities!
LOVELL. 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.
SANDYS. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,