The liberall Earle of Cornewall is the man,
On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
Bald.
What, meane you then to be his follower?
Spen.
No, his Companion, for he loves me well,
And would have once prefer'd me to the King.
Bald.
But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.
Spen.
I for a while, but Balducke marke the end,
A friend of mine told me in secrecy,
That hees repeal'd, and sent for backe againe,
And even now, a Poast came from the Court,
With Letters to our Lady from the King,
And as she read she smild, which makes me thinke,
It is about her Lover Gaveston.
Bald.
Tis like enough, for since he was exilde,
She neither walkes abroad, nor comes in sight:
But I had thought the match had beene broke off,
And that his banishment had chang'd her minde.
Spen.
Our Ladies first love is not wavering,
My life for thine she will have Gaveston.
Bald.
Then hope I by her meanes to be prefer'd,
Having read unto her since she was a child.
Spen.
Then Balducke you must cast the Scholler off,
And learne to court it like a Gentleman,
Tis not a blacke Coat and a little Band,
A Velvet cap'd Cloake fac'd before with Serge,
And smelling to a Nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a Napkin in your hand,
Or saying a long Grace at a Tables end,
Or making low legs to a noble man,
Or looking downeward, with your eye-lids close,
And saying, truely ant may please your honour,
Can get you any favour with great men,
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, as occasion serves.
Bald.
Spencer thou know'st I hate such toyes,
And use them but as meere Hypocrisie.
Mine old Lord whiles he liv'd was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my Buttons,
And
