Cham.
Is it possible, the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?

Sands.
New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

Cham.
As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely
A fit or two o' th' face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold them, 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 them pace before, the spavin,
A springhalt reign'd among them.

Cham.
Death! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut, too,
That, sure, they have worn out Christendom. How now?
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? Enter Sir Thomas Lovell, R.H. cross to C.

Lov.
'Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'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 am glad 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,

And never see the Louvre. What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!

Lov.
Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.

Sands.
The devil fiddle them! I am glad, they're going;
Now an honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have the honour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Held current music, too.

Cham.
Well said, Lord Sands;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands.
No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Cham.
Sir Thomas,
Whither are you a going?

Lov.
To the cardinal's;
Your lordship is a guest, too.

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 kingdom, I'll assure you.

Lov.
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us.

Sands.
He may, my lord, he 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.

Cham.
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, L.H.

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