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
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

Th' ufurper 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 freedom,

And this man out of prison?

Queen. God mend all!

King. There's fomething more would out of thee;
what say'st?

Surv. 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, 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,

He is attach'd;

To fheath his knife in us.
Call him to prefent trial; if he may

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
Have got by the last voyage, is but merely
* A fit or two o'th'face, but they are fhrewd ones,
For when they ho'd 'em, you would fwear directly.
Their very noses had been counsellors

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 christendom. How now? What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.

Lov. Faith, my Lord,

I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clap'd upon the court-gate.

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,
And never fee the Louvre.

Lov. They must 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 wifdom, clean renouncing
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short bolfter'd breeches, and thofe types of travel;
And understand again like honeft men,

A fit or two o'th'
face,] A
fit of the face feems to be what

we now term a grimace, an artificial caft of the countenance.

Or

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 phyfick, their diseases
Are grown fo catching.

Cham. What a lofs our ladies

Will have of thefe 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 honest 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 stump.

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 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.
Men of his way should be most liberal,
They're fet here for examples.
Cham. True, they are fo;

But few now give fo great ones. My barge stays;
Your Lordship fhall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late elfe, which I would not be,

For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford,
This night to be comptrollers.

Sands. I'am your Lordship's.

SCENE

[Exeunt,

VII.

Changes to York-Houfe.

Hautboys. Afmall table under a ftate for the Cardinal,
a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen,
and divers other ladies and gentlewomen, as guests, at
one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guilford.
Guil.

Adies, a gen'ral 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, then good wine, good wel