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. [Exit.
Mil. Whilst you desire his grief, my heart shall bleed. [Exit.
Y. Clare. Raymond Mounchensey, come, be frolic, friend;
This is the day thou hast expected long.
Ray. Pray God, dear Harry Clare, it prove so happy!
Y. Clare. There's nought can alter it; be merry, lad.
Fab. There's nought shall alter it; be lively, Raymond:
Stand any opposition 'gainst thy hope,
Art shall confront it with her largest scope.
[Exeunt, save Fabel.
Peter Fabel solus.
Fab. Good old Mounchensey, is thy hap so ill,
That for thy bounty and thy royal parts
Thy kind alliance should be held in scorn,
And after all these promises, my[260] Clare,
Refuse to give his daughter to thy son,
Only because thy revenues cannot reach
To make her dowage of so rich a jointure
As can the heir of wealthy Jerningham?
And therefore is the false fox now in hand
To strike a match betwixt her and the other;
And the old grey-beards now are close together,
Plotting it in the garden. Is't even so?
Raymond Mounchensey, boy, have thou and I
Thus long at Cambridge read the liberal arts,
The metaphysics, magic, and those parts
Of the most secret deep philosophy?
Have I so many melancholy nights
Watch'd on the top of Peter-house highest tower,
And come we back unto our native home,
For want of skill to lose the wench thou lov'st?
I'll first hang Enfield[261] in such rings of mist
As never rose from any dampish fen:
I'll make the brined sea to rise at Ware,
And drown the marshes unto Stratford Bridge:
I'll drive the deer from Waltham in their walks,
And scatter them (like sheep) in every field.
We may perhaps be cross'd; but, if we be,
He shall cross the devil, that but crosses me.
Enter Raymond and Young Jerningham.