Henry VIII

by William Shakespeare

Act One, Scene III

L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
  L.San. New customes,
Though they be neuer so ridiculous,
(Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd
   L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English
Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely
A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones)
For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly
Their very noses had been Councellours
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so
   L.San. They haue all new legs,
And lame ones; one would take it,
That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen
A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em
   L.Ch. Death my Lord,
Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't,
That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now?
What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?
Enter Sir Thomas Louell.
  Louell. Faith my Lord,
I heare of none but the new Proclamation,
That's clapt vpon the Court Gate
   L.Cham. What is't for?
  Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants,
That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors
   L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;
Now I would pray our Monsieurs
To thinke an English Courtier may be wise,
And neuer see the Louure
   Lou. They must either
(For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants
Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes,
Abusing better men then they can be
Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane
The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings,
Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell;
And vnderstand againe like honest men,
Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it,
They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away
The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at
   L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases
Are growne so catching
   L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies
Will haue of these trim vanities?
  Louell. I marry,
There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons
Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies.
A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow
   L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em,
I am glad they are going,
For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now
An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song,
And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady
Held currant Musicke too
   L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands,
Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?
  L.San. No my Lord,
Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe
   L.Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?
  Lou. To the Cardinals;
Your Lordship is a guest too
   L.Cham. 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 Kingdome Ile assure you
   Lou. That Churchman
Beares a bounteous minde indeed,
A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs,
His dewes fall euery where
   L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;
He had a blacke mouth that said other of him
   L.San. He may my Lord,
Ha's wherewithall in him;
Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine,
Men of his way, should be most liberall,
They are set heere for examples
   L.Cham. True, they are so;
But few now giue so great ones:
My Barge stayes;
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 Guilford
This night to be Comptrollers
L.San. I am your Lordships.

Exeunt.