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That you would love your felf, and in that love
Not unconfider'd leave your honour, nör
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.

King. Lady mine, proceed.

Queen. I am follicited, not by a few,

And thofe of true condition, that your fubjects

Are in great grievance. There have been commiffion's
Sent down among 'em, which have flaw'd the heart
Of all their loyalties; wherein although

[To Wolfey. (My good lord Cardinal) they vent reproaches Moft bitterly on you, as putter onyaño Of these exactions; yet the King our master

(Whose honour heav'n fhield from foil) ev'n he escapes not Language unmannerly; yea fuch, which breaks

The fides of loyalty, and almost appears

In loud rebellion.

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Nor. Not almoft appears,

It doth appear; for upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The fpinfters, carders, fullers, weavers; who,
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
And lack of other means, in defp'rate manner
Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger ferves among them.
King. Taxation?

Wherein? and what taxation? my lord Cardinal,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us,

Know you of this taxation?

Wol. Please you, Sif,

I know but of a fingle part in ought

Pertains to th' ftate, and front but in that file

Where others tell fteps with me.

Queen. No, my lord,

You know no more than others: but you frame

Things that are known alike, which are not wholefome.
To thofe which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. Thefe exactions
(Whereof my Sov'raign would have note) they are

Most

Moft peftilent to th' hearing; and, to bear 'em,
The back is facrifice to th' load, they fay,
They are devis'd by you, or elfe you fuffer
Too hard an exclamation.

King. Still, exaction!

The nature of it, in what kind let's know
Is this exaction?..

Queen. I am much too vent'rous

In tempting of your patience, but am bolden'd
Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects grief
Comes through commiffions, which compel from each
The fixth part of his fubftance, to be levy'd

Without delay; and the pretence for this

Is nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold mouths;
Tongues fpit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; All their curses now

Live where their pray'rs did; and it's come to pafs,
That tractable obedience is a flave

To each incenfed will. I would, your Highness
Would give it quick confideration, for
There is no primer baseness.

King. By my life,

This is against our pleasure.
Wol. And for me,

I have no further gone in this, than by
A fingle voice; and that not paft me, but
By learned approbation of the judges.
If I'm traduc'd by tongues, which neither know
My faculties, nor perfon; yet will be
The chronicles of my doing; let me fay,
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue muft go through: we must not stint
Our neceffary actions, in the fear

To cope malicious cenfurers; which ever,
As rav'nous fishes do a veffel follow

That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do beft,
By fick interpreters, or weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd: what worst, as oft
Hitting a groffer quality, is cry'd up

For

Queen. God mend all!

[fay'ft?
King. There's fomething more would out of thee; what
Surv. After the Duke his father with the knife,
He ftretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
Another fpread 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 tryal; 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.

Cham.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands.

IS't poffible the fpells of France fhould juggle
Men into fuch frange myfteries? (10)

Sai ds. New customs,

Though they be never fo ridiculous,

Nay let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd:
Cham. As far as I fee, all the good our English
Have got by the laft voyage, is but merely
A fit or two o'th' face, but they are fhrewd ones;
For when they hold 'em, you would fwear directly

(10) Men in to fuch ftrange Myfteries ?] What Myfteries were these? Why, new fantaftick Court-Fashions. But to prove it beyond Doubt to be a fpurious Reading, let us confider the Nature, of those Superftitions; that the Metaphors in the foregoing Line allude to. It was the Opinion of the Common, People, at that time, that Conjurers, Jugglers &c. with their Spells and Charms could force Men to commit idle fantastick Actions; or change their Shapes into fomething grotefque and ridiculous. This being alluded to here, tis plain, we must read in the 2d Line;

Men into fuch ftrange Mockeries.

a Word, which very well expreffes the whimsical Fashions here complain'd

of.

Mr. Warburton.

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.

Their very nofes had been counsellors

To Pepin or Glotharius, they keep state so.

[take it,

Sands. They've all new legs, and lame ones; one would

(That never faw 'em pace before) the spavin

And spring-halt reign'd among 'em.

Cham. Death! my lord,

Their clothes 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

To think an English courtier may be wife,

And never see the Louvre.

Lov. They must either

[Monfieurs

(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 ftockings,
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 lewdnefs, 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 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

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 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 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 moft 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,

(11)

bas wherewithal in him;

(11)

Sparing would fhew &c.] Thus this has hitherto been falfely pointed. The wherewithal, intended by Lord Sands, was not in the Cardinal's internal Wealth, the Bounty of his Mind; but the Goods of Fortune, his outward Treafures, large Revenues: which would have aggravated the Sin of ParAmony in him. The ingenious Dr. Thirlby likewife corrected this Paffage, as I have done.

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