SCENE II. The same.
[Enter Blague.]
HOST. Ostlers, you knaves and commanders, take the horses of the knights and competitors: your honourable hulks have put into harborough, they’ll take in fresh water here, and I have provided clean chamber-pots. Via, they come!
[Enter Sir Richard Mounchesney, Sir Raph Jerningham, young
Frank Jerningham, Raymond Mounchesney, Peter Fabell, and
Bilbo.]
HOST. The destinies be most neat Chamberlains to these swaggering puritans, knights of the subsidy.
SIR MOUNCHESNEY.
God a mercy, good mine host.
SIR JERNINGHAM.
Thanks, good host Blague.
HOST. Room for my case of pistolles, that have Greek and Latin bullets in them; let me cling to your flanks, my nimble Giberalters, and blow wind in your calves to make them swell bigger. Ha, I’ll caper in mine own fee-simple; away with puntillioes and Orthography! I serve the good Duke of Norfolk. Bilbo, Titere tu, patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi.
BILBO. Truly, mine host, Bilbo, though he be somewhat out of fashion, will be your only blade still. I have a villanous sharp stomach to slice a breakfast.
HOST. Thou shalt have it without any more discontinuance, releases, or atturnement. What! we know our terms of hunting and the sea-card.
BILBO.
And do you serve the good duke of Norfolk still?
HOST. Still, and still, and still, my souldier of S. Quintins: come, follow me; I have Charles waine below in a but of sack, t’will glister like your Crab-fish.
BILBO. You have fine Scholler-like terms; your Coopers Dixionary is your only book to study in a celler, a man shall find very strange words in it. Come, my host, let’s serve the good duke of Norfolk.
HOST. And still, and still, and still, my boy, I’ll serve the good duke of Norfolk.
[Exeunt Host and Bilbo.]
[Enter Sir Arthur Clare, Harry Clare, and Milliscent.]
JERNINGHAM.
Good Sir Arthur Clare!
CLARE.
What Gentleman is that? I know him not.
MOUNCHESNEY.
Tis Master Fabell, Sir, a Cambridge scholler,
My son’s dear friend.
CLARE.
Sir, I intreat you know me.
FABELL.
Command me, sir; I am affected to you
For your Mounchensey’s sake.
CLARE.
Alas, for him,
I not respect whether he sink or swim:
A word in private, Sir Raph Jerningham.
RAYMOND.
Me thinks your father looketh strangely on me:
Say, love, why are you sad?
MILLISCENT.
I am not, sweet;
Passion is strong, when woe with woe doth meet.
CLARE.
Shall’s in to breakfast? after we’ll conclude
The cause of this our coming: in and feed,
And let that usher a more serious deed.
MILLISCENT.
Whilst you desire his grief, my heart shall bleed.
YOUNG JERNINGHAM.
Raymond Mounchesney, come, be frolick, friend,
This is the day thou hast expected long.
RAYMOND.
Pray God, dear Jerningham, it prove so happy.
JERNINGHAM.
There’s nought can alter it. Be merry, lad!
FABELL.
There’s nought shall alter it. Be lively, Raymond!
Stand any opposition gainst thy hope,
Art shall confront it with her largest scope.
[Exeunt.]