Your colt's tooth is not cast yet? Sands. No, my Lord, Nor fhall not, while I have a fump. 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, 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,(11) Sparing would fhew a worfe fin than ill doctrine. Men of his way should be moft liberal, They're fet here for examples. Cham. True, they are fo; But few now give fo great ones: my barge ftays; 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'm your Lordship's. -b' as wherewithal in him; [Exeunt. (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 fin of parfimony in him. The ingenious Dr. Thirlby likewife corrected this, paffage, as I have done. SCENE, changes to York-house. Hautboys. A fmall table under a ftate for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen, and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen, as guests, at one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guilford. Guil. Ladies, a gen'ral welcome from his Grace ye all: this night he dedicates As, firft-good company, good wine, good welcome, (12) Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands and Lovel. O my Lord, y'are tardy; The very thoughts of this fair company Clap'd wings to me. Cham. You're young, Sir Harry Guilford. Sands. Sir Thomas Lovel, had the Cardinal But half my lay-thoughts in him, fome of these Should find a running banquet, ere they refted: I think, would better please 'em by my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones. Lovel. O, that your Lordship were but now confeffor To one or two of thefe. Sands. I would I were ; They should find easy penance. Lov. 'Faith, how easy? Sands. As eafy, as a down-bed would afford it. Cham. Sweet Ladies, will it please you fit? Sir Harry, Place you that fide, I'll take the charge of this: (12) As, firft, good company, good wine, &c.] As this paffage has been all along pointed, Sir Harry Guilford is made to include all these under the first article; and then gives us the drop as to what fhould follow. The poet, I am perfwaded, wrote; As firft-good company, good wine, good welcome, &c. i. e. he would have you as merry as thefe three things can make you, the best company in the land, of the best rank, good wine, &c. His Grace is ent'ring; nay, you must not freeze: ~ Sands. By my faith, And thank your Lordship. By your leave, fweet Ladies; If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.. Anne, Was he mad, Sir? Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too; But he would bite none; juft as I do now,. He'd kiss you twenty with a breath. Cham. Well faid, my Lord : So now y'are fairly feated: Gentlemen, Sands. For my little cure, (13) Let me alone. Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, and takes his ftater Wol. Y'are welcome, my fair guests; that noble Lady, Or Gentleman, that is not freely merry, Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome; Sands. Your Grace is noble : Let me have fuch a bowl may hold my And fave me fo much talking. Wol. My Lord Sands, thanks, I am beholden to you; cheer your neighbour: Whofe, fault is this?. Sands. The red wine firft muft rife [Drinks. In their fair cheeks, my Lord, then we shall have 'em Talk us to filence. Anne. You're a merry gamefter,. My Lord Sands. (13) For my little Cure,] This word I have reftor'd from the first folio. Some of the modern editions read, Cue. But Lord Sands feems to me to profecute the idea of penance, mention'd by the Lord. Chamberlain, and humorously alluded to the cure of fouls. Sands. Sands. Yes, if I make my play : Here's to your Ladyfhip, and pledge it, Madam : For 'tis to fuch a thing Anne. You cannot fhew me. Sands. I told your Grace, that they would talk anon. [Drum and trumpets, chambers difcharged. Wol. What's that? Cham. Look out there, fome of ye. Wol. What warlike voice, And to what end is this? may, Ladies, fear not: By all the laws of war y'are privileged. Enter a Servant. Cham. How now, what is't? Serv. A noble troop of ftrangers, For fo they feem, have left their barge and landed; And hither make, as great Ambaffadors From foreign Princes. Wol. Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue; [All arife, and tables removed. Hautboys. Enter King and others as Mafkers, habited like Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd This night to meet here, they could do not lefs, Wol. Wol. Say, Lord Chamberlain, They've done my poor house grace: for which I pay 'em A thousand thanks, and pray 'em, take their pleasures. [Chufe Ladies, King and Anne Bullen. King. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, 'Till now I never knew thee. Wol. My Lord. Cham. Your Grace ? [Mufick. Dance. Wol. Pray tell 'em thus much from me; Cham. I will, my Lord. Wol. What fay they? Cham. Such a one, they all confess, [Whisper, There is indeed; which they would have your Grace Wol. Let me fee then : By all your good leaves, Gentlemen, here I'll make King. You've found him, Cardinal: You hold a fair affembly: you do well, Lord. Wol. I'm glad, Your Grace is grown fo pleasant. King. My Lord Chamberlain, Pr'ythee come hither, what fair Lady's that? [daughter, Let it go round. Wol. Sir Thomas Lovel, is the banquet ready I' th' privy chamber? Lov. Yes, my Lord. Wol. Your Grace, I fear, with dancing is a little heated. |