What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?

Chamberlain
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Lovell
Faith, my lord,
I hear of none but the new proclamation
That’s clapped upon the court gate.

’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

Chamberlain
What is ’t for?
Lovell
The reformation of our traveled gallants
That fill the court with Bathosquarrels, talk, and tailors.Alliteration
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 honorable points 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 blistered 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 “oui” away
The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at.Alliterations, Appositions & Parentheses
Sands
’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.Metaphor
Chamberlain
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!Alliteration
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.Alliteration
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.Alliterations & Appositions