Enter Miles with a cloth and trenchers and salt.
Miles. Salvete, omnes reges,
That govern your greges
In Saxony and Spain,
In England and in Almain!
For all this frolic rabble
Must I cover the table
With trenchers, salt, and cloth;
And then look for your broth.
Emp. What pleasant fellow is this?
K. Hen. 'Tis, my lord, Doctor Bacon's poor scholar.
Miles. [aside]. My master hath made me sewer of these great lords; and, God knows, I am as serviceable at a table as a sow is under an apple-tree: 'tis no matter; their cheer shall not be great, and therefore what skills where the salt stand, before or behind?[216] [Exit.
K. of Cast. These scholars know more skill in axioms,
How to use quips and sleights of sophistry,
Than for to cover courtly for a king.
Re-enter Miles with a mess of pottage and broth; and after him, Bacon.
Miles. Spill, sir? why, do you think I never carried twopenny chop before in my life?—
By you leave, nobile decus,
For here comes Doctor Bacon's pecus,
Being in his full age
To carry a mess of pottage.
Bacon. Lordings, admire not if your cheer be this,
For we must keep our academic fare;
No riot where philosophy doth reign:
And therefore, Henry, place these potentates,
And bid them fall unto their frugal cates.
Emp. Presumptuous friar! what, scoff'st thou at a king?
What, dost thou taunt us with thy peasant's fare,
And give us cates fit for country swains?—
Henry, proceeds this jest of thy consent,
To twit us with a pittance of such price?
Tell me, and Frederick will not grieve thee long.
K. Hen. By Henry's honour, and the royal faith
The English monarch beareth to his friend,
I knew not of the friar's feeble fare,
Nor am I pleas'd he entertains you thus.
Bacon. Content thee, Frederick, for I show'd the cates
To let thee see how scholars use to feed;
How little meat refines our English wits:—
Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner.
Miles. Marry, sir, I will.
This day shall be a festival-day with me,
For I shall exceed in the highest degree. [Exit.
Bacon. I tell thee, monarch, all the German peers
Could not afford thy entertainment such,
So royal and so full of majesty,
As Bacon will present to Frederick.
The basest waiter that attends thy cups
Shall be in honours greater than thyself;
And for thy cates, rich Alexandria drugs,[217]
Fetch'd by carvels from Ægypt's richest straits,
Found in the wealthy strand of Africa,
Shall royalize the table of my king;
Wines richer than th' Ægyptian courtesan
Quaff'd to Augustus' kingly countermatch,
Shall be carous'd in English Henry's feast;
Candy shall yield the richest of her canes;
Persia, down her Volga by canoes,
Send down the secrets of her spicery;
The Afric dates, mirabolans[218] of Spain,
Conserves, and suckets[219] from Tiberias,
Cates from Judæa, choicer that the lamp
That firèd Rome with sparks of gluttony,
Shall beautify the board for Frederick:
And therefore grudge not at a friar's feast.
SCENE III.—At Fressingfield.
Enter Lambert and Serlsby with the Keeper.