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NORFOLK.

Then you lost

The view of earthly glory; men might say,

Till this time pomp was single, but now married

To one above itself. Each following day

Became the next day's master, till the last

Made former wonders its. To-day the French,

All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,

Shone down the English; and to-morrow they

Made Britain India: every man that stood

Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were

As cherubins, an gilt; the madams too,

Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear

The pride upon them, that their very labour

Was to them as a painting. Now this masque

Was cried incomparable; and th' ensuing night

Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,

Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,

As presence did present them: him in eye

still him in praise; and being present both,

'Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner

Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns-

For so they phrase 'em-by their heralds challeng'd

The noble spirits to arms, they did perform

Beyond thought's compass, that former fabulous story,

Being now seen possible enough, got credit,

That Bevis was believ'd.

BUCKINGHAM.

O, you go far!

NORFOLK.

As I belong to worship, and affect

In honour honesty, the tract of ev'rything

Would by a good discourser lose some life

Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal:

To the disposing of it nought rebell'd;

Order gave each thing view. The office did

Distinctly his full function.

BUCKINGHAM.

Who did guide-

I mean, who set the body and the limbs

Of this great sport together, as you guess?

NORFOLK.

One, certes, that promises no element

In such a business.

BUCKINGHAM.

I pray you, who, my lord?

NORFOLK.

All this was ord'red by the good discretion

Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

BUCKINGHAM.

The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed

From his ambitious finger. What had he

To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder

That such a keech can with his very bulk

Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun,

And keep it from the earth.

NORFOLK.

Surely, sir,

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;

For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace

Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon

For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied

To eminent assistants, but spider-like,

Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note

The force of his own merit makes his way-

A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys

A place next to the King.

ABERGAVENNY.

I cannot tell

What heaven hath given him-let some graver eye

Pierce into that; but I can see his pride

Peep through each part of him. Whence has he that?

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard

Or has given all before, and he begins

A new hell in himself.

BUCKINGHAM.

Why the devil,

Upon this French going out, took he upon him-

Without the privity o' th' King-t' appoint

Who should attend on him? He makes up the file

Of all the gentry; for the most part such

To whom as great a charge as little honour

He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,

The honourable board of council out,

Must fetch him in he papers.

ABERGAVENNY.

I do know

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have

By this so sicken'd their estates that never

They shall abound as formerly.

BUCKINGHAM.

O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em

For this great journey. What did this vanity

But minister communication of

A most poor issue?

NORFOLK.

Grievingly I think

The peace between the French and us not values

The cost that did conclude it.

BUCKINGHAM.

Every man,

After the hideous storm that follow'd, was

A thing inspir'd, and, not consulting, broke

Into a general prophecy-that this tempest,

Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded

The sudden breach on't.

NORFOLK.

Which is budded out;

For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd

Our merchants' goods at Bordeaux.

ABERGAVENNY.

Is it therefore

Th' ambassador is silenc'd?

NORFOLK.

Marry, is't.

ABERGAVENNY.

A proper tide of a peace, and purchas'd

At a