Henry VIII

did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour
Was⁠—were he evil used, 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 the height. Exeunt.

Scene III

An ante-chamber in the palace.

	Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.
Chamberlain	Is’t possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries?
Sands	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.
Sands	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 point 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 blister’d 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.
Sands	’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.
Sands	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.
Chamberlain	Well said, Lord Sands; Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.
Sands	No, my lord; Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Chamberlain	Sir Thomas, Whither were you a-going?
Lovell	To the cardinal’s: Your lordship is a guest too.
Chamberlain	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.
Lovell	That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall every where.
Chamberlain	No doubt he’s noble; He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Sands	He may, my lord; has 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.
Chamberlain	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 Guildford This night to be comptrollers.
Sands	I am your lordship’s. Exeunt.

Scene IV

A Hall in York Place.

	Hautboys. A small table under a state 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 Guildford.
Guildford	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, first, good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people. O, my lord, you’re tardy:
	Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell.
	The very thought of this fair company Clapp’d wings to me.
Chamberlain	You are young, Sir Harry Guildford.
Sands	Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet ere they rested, I think would better please ’em: by my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones.
Lovell	O, that your lordship were but now confessor To one or two of these!
Sands	I would I were; They should find easy penance.
Lovell	Faith, how easy?
Sands	As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
Chamberlain	Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, Place you that side; I’ll take the charge of this: His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze; Two women placed together makes cold weather: My Lord Sands, you are one will keep ’em waking; Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands	By my faith, And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies: 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; just as I do now, He would kiss you twenty with a breath. Kisses her.
Chamberlain	Well said, my lord. So, now you’re fairly seated. Gentlemen, The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies Pass away frowning.
Sands	For my little cure, Let me alone.
	Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his state.
Wolsey	You’re welcome, my fair guests: 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. Drinks.