SCENE III. An ante-chamber in the palace. The Life of King Henry the Eighth  Shakespeare homepage  |  Henry VIII  | Act 1, Scene 3 

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 Enter Chamberlain and SANDS  Chamberlain  Is't possible the spells of France should juggle 

 Men into such strange mysteries? 

 SANDS  New customs, 

 Though they be never so ridiculous, 

 Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 

 Chamberlain  As far as I see, all the good our English 

 Have got by the late voyage is but merely 

 A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones; 

 For when they hold 'em, 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 'em pace before, the spavin 

 Or springhalt reign'd among 'em. 

 Chamberlain  Death! my lord, 

 Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, 

 That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. 



 Enter LOVELL  How now! 

 What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? 

 LOVELL  Faith, my lord, 

 I hear of none, but the new proclamation 

 That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. 

 Chamberlain  What is't for? 

 LOVELL  The reformation of our travell'd gallants, 

 That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. 

 Chamberlain  I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs 

 To think an English courtier may be wise, 

 And never see the Louvre. 

 LOVELL  They must either, 

 For so run the conditions, leave those remnants 

 Of fool and feather that they got in France, 

 With all their honourable point of ignorance 

 Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, 

 Abusing better men than they can be, 

 Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean 

 The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, 

 Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, 

 And understand again like honest men; 

 Or pack to their old playfellows: 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 'em physic, their diseases 

 Are grown so catching. 

 Chamberlain  What a loss our ladies 

 Will have of these trim vanities! 

 LOVELL  Ay, marry, 

 There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons 

 Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; 

 A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. 

 SANDS  The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going, 

 For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now 

 An honest country lord, as I am, beaten 

 A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong 

 And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady, 

 Held current music too. 

 Chamberlain  Well said, Lord Sands; 

 Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. 

 SANDS  No, my lord; 

 Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 

 Chamberlain  Sir Thomas, 

 Whither were you a-going? 

 LOVELL  To the cardinal's: 

 Your lordship is a guest too. 

 Chamberlain  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. 

 LOVELL  That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, 

 A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; 

 His dews fall every where. 

 Chamberlain  No doubt he's noble; 

 He had a black mouth that said other of him. 

 SANDS  He may, my lord; 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. 

 Chamberlain  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. 



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