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is it holiday, my love? believe me, lords,

it is strange to take her from her sempstery;

she and her maids are all for housewifery.

shalt work no more, sweet nan, now Richard is King,

and peers and people all shall stoop to him.

we will have no more protecting uncles, trust me!

prithee look smooth and bid these nobles welcome.

Queen

whom my lord favours must to me be welcome.

King

these are our councillors, I tell ye, lady,

and these shall better grace King Richard's court

than all the doting heads that late controlled us.

thou seest already we begin to alter

the vulgar fashions of our homespun Kingdom.

I tell thee, nan, the states of christendom

shall wonder at our english royalty.

we held a council to devise these suits:

sir henry Greene devised this fashion shoe,

Bushy this peak; Bagot and Scroope set forth

this kind coherence betwixt the toe and knee

to have them chained together lovingly;

and we as sovereign did confirm them all.

suit they not quaintly, nan? sweet Queen, resolve me.

Queen

I see no fault that I dare call a fault.

but would your grace consider with advice

what you have done unto your reverent uncles?

(my fears provoke me to be bold, my lord)

they are your noble kinsmen, to revoke the

sentence were -

King

an act of folly, nan! King's words are laws.

if we infringe our word, we break our law.

no more of them, sweet Queen.

Tresilian

madam, what is done was with advice enough.

the King is now at years and hath shook off

the servile yoke of mean protectorship.

Bushy

his highness can direct himself sufficient.

why should his pleasures then be curbed by any

as if he did not understand his state?

King

they tell thee true, sweet love. come, ride with me

and see today my hall at Westminster

which we have builded now to feast our friends.

Green

do, do, good madam. prithee sweet King, let us ride

somewhither and it be but to show ourselves. sfoot,

our devices here are like jewels kept in caskets, or

good faces in masks, that grace not the owners because

they are obscured. if our fashions be not published,

what glory is in the wearing?

King

we will ride through London only to be gazed at.

fair Anne-a-Beame, you shall along with us.

at Westminster shalt see my sumptuous hall,

my royal tables richly furnished

where every day I feast ten thousand men;

to furnish out which feast I daily spend

thirty fat oxen and three hundred sheep,

with fish and fowl in numbers numberless.

not all our chronicles shall point a King

to match our bounty, state, and royalty.

or let all our successors yet to come

strive to exceed me, and if they forbid it,

let records say, only King Richard did it.

Queen

oh but, my lord, it will tire your revenues

to keep this festival a year together!

King

as many days as I write England's King

we will maintain that bounteous festival.

Tresilian, look to your blank charters speedily,

send them abroad with trusty officers;

and Bagot, see a messenger be sent

to call our uncle Woodstock home to the court.

not that we love his meddling company,

but that the raged commons loves his plainness

and should grow mutinous about these blanks.

we will have him near us. within his arrow's length,

we stand secure: we can restrain his strength.

see it be done. come, Anne, to our great hall

where Richard keeps his gorgeous festival.

[Trumpets] sound. Exeunt. Manet Tresilian Tresilian

within there ho!

Enter Crosby and Fleming Crosby

your lordship's pleasure?

Tresilian

what, are those blanks dispatched?

Fleming

they are all trussed up, my lord, in several

packets.

Tresilian

where is Nimble? where is that varlet?

Enter Nimble [in peaked shoes with knee-chains]

Nimble

as Nimble as a morris dancer, now my bells are on.

how do ye like the rattling of my chains, my lord?

Tresilian

oh, villain, thou wilt hang in chains for this.

art thou crept into the court fashion, knave?

Nimble

alas, my lord, ye know I have followed your lordship

without ever a rag since ye ran away from