King. Ha! what 3 fo rank? ah, ha There's mischief in this man. Surv. I can, my Liege. King. Proceed. Surv. Being at Greenwich, Canft thou fay further? After your Highnefs had reprov'd the Duke King. I remember Of fuch a time. He being my fworn fervant, upon Th' ufurper Richard, who, being at Salisbury, King. A giant traitor! Wol. Now, Madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison? Queen. God mend all! King. There's fomething more would out of thee; Surv. After the Duke his father with the knife,- King. There's his period, He is attach'd; To fheath his knife in us. 3 fo rank.] Rank weeds, are weeds that are grown up to great height and strength. What, fays the King, was he advanced to this pitch? 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. SCENE, VI. An Apartment in the Palace. [Exeunt. Enter Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands. Cham. * I S't poffible, the fpells of France should juggle Men into fuch strange mysteries? Sands. New customs, Though they be never fo ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 4 Is't poffible, the fpells of France bould juggle Men into fuch ftrange MYSTERIES?] Thefe myfteries were the fantastic court-fashions. He fays they were occafioned by the Spells of France. Now it was the opinion of the common people, that conjurers, jugglers, with pells and charms could force men to commit idle fantallic actions; and change even their fhapes to fomething ridicuJous and grotesque. To this fuperftition the poet alludes, who, therefore, we muft think, wrote, the fecond line thus, Men into juch frange MOCKE out regard to the metaphor, but in order to improve on the emendation, reads mimick'ries; not confidering neither that whatfoever any thing is changed or jaggled into by Spells, must have a paffive fignification, as mockeries, [i. e. vifible figures] not an ac live, as minick'ries. WARBURTON. I do not deny this note to be plaufible, but am in doubt whether it be right. I believe the explanation of the word myfteriis will fpare us the trouble of trying experiments of emendation. Myfleries were allegorical fhews, which the mummers of thofe times exhibited in odd and fantastic habits. Mysteries are ufed, by an eafy figure, for thofe that exhibited myfleries; and the fenfe is only, that the travelled Englishmen were metamorphofed, by foreign fashions, into fuch an uncouth appearance, that they looked like mummers in a mystery. Charm. Cham. As far as I fee, all the good our English 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 Their cloaths are after fuch a pagan cut too, That, fure, they've worn out christendom. How now? What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. Lov. Faith, my Lord, I hear of none, but the new proclamation Cham. What is't for? 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, Lov. They must either (For fo run the conditions) leave those remnants A fit or two o'th' we now term a grimace, an artificial caft of the countenance. Or Or pack to their old play-fellows; there, I take it, The lag-end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. Cham. What a lofs our ladies Will have of thefe trim vanities? There will be woe indeed, Lords; the fly whorefons Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I'm glad, they're going, For, fure, there's no converting 'em. Now, Sirs, A long time out of play, may bring his plain fong, Cham. Well faid, Lord Sands; Nor fhall not, while I have a stump. Cham. Sir Thomas, 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, To many Lords and Ladies; there will be The beauty of this Kingdom, I'll affure you. Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in deed, 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, I Sparing Sparing would fhew a worse fin than ill doctrine. But few now give fo great ones. My barge stays; For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford, Sands. I'am your Lordship's. SCENE [Exeunt, VII. Changes to York-Houfe. Hautboys. Afmall table under a ftate for the Cardinal, Adies, a gen'ral welcome from his Grace As first, good company, then good wine, good wel |