Lov. Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; 40
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going,[185]
For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now[186]
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song, 45
And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady,
Held current music too.[187]
Cham. Well said, Lord Sands;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.[188]
Sands. No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.[189]
Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going?[190]
Lov. To the cardinal's: 50
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,[191] 55
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.[192]
Cham. No doubt he's noble;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him[193]
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: 60
Men of his way should be most liberal;[194]
They are set here for examples.[195]