[Enter Sir Arthur Clare and Sir Ralph Jerningham, trussing their points as new up.]
SIR RAPH.
Good morrow, gentle knight.
A happy day after your short nights rest.
SIR ARTHUR.
Ha, ha, sir Raph, stirring so soon indeed?
Birlady, sir, rest would have done right well;
Our riding late last night has made me drowsy.
Go to, go to, those days are gone with us.
SIR RAPH.
Sir Arthur, Sir Arthur, care go with those days,
Let 'am even go together, let 'am go!
Tis time, yfaith, that we were in our graves,
When Children leave obedience to their parents,
When there's no fear of God, no care, no duty.
Well, well, nay, nay, it shall not do, it shall not;
No, Mountchensey, thou'st hear on't, thou shalt,
Thou shalt, yfaith!
I'll hang thy Son, if there be law in England.
A man's Child ravisht from a Nunry!
This is rare!
Well, well, there's one gone for Friar Hildersam.
SIR ARTHUR. Nay, gentle Knight, do not vex thus, It will but hurt your health. You cannot grieve more then I do, but to what end? But hark you, Sir Raph, I was about to say something—it makes no matter. But heark you in your ear: the Friar's a knave; but God forgive me, a man cannot tell neither; s'foot, I am so out of patience, I know not what to say.
SIR RAPH. There's one went for the Friar an hour ago. Comes he not yet? s'foot, if I do find knavery unders cowl, I'll tickle him, I'll firk him. Here, here, he's here, he's here. Good morrow, Friar; good morrow, gentle Friar.
[Enter Hildersham.]
SIR ARHTUR.
Good morrow, father Hildersham, good morrow.
HILDERSHAM.
Good morrow, reverend Knights, unto you both.
SIR ARTHUR.
Father, how now? you hear how matters go;
I am undone, my child is cast away.
You did your best, at least I think the best;
But we are all crost; flatly, all is dasht.