Moun. Soon at night remember
You bring your horses to the willow ground.
Jer. 'Tis done, no more.
Y. Clare. We will not fail the hour:
My life and fortune now lie in your power.
Fab. About our business! Raymond, let's away,
Think of your hour: it draws well off the day. [Exeunt.
Enter Blague, Banks, Smug, and Sir John.
Blague. Come, ye Hungarian[300] pilchers, we are once more come under the Zona Torrida of the forest; let's be resolute; let's fly to and again; and the devil come, we'll put him to his interrogatories, and not budge a foot. What! foot, I'll put fire into you, ye shall all three serve the good Duke of Norfolk.
Smug. Mine host, my bully, my precious consul, my noble Holofernes, I have been drunk in thy house twenty times and ten; all's one for that: I was last night in the third heaven, my brain was poor, it had yeast in't, but now I am a man of action; is't not so, lad?
Banks. Why, now, thou hast two of the liberal sciences about thee, wit and reason, thou mayest serve the Duke of Europe.
Smug. I will serve the Duke of Christendom, and do him more credit in his cellar than all the plate in his buttery; is't not so, lad?
Sir John. Mine host and Smug, stand there: Banks, you and your horse keep together, but lie close, show no tricks for fear of the keeper. If we be scared, we'll meet in the church-porch at Enfield.