Sir Arth. I will complain me of thee to the king.
Brian. I'll complain unto the king you spoil his game: 'tis strange that men of your account and calling will offer it. I tell you true, Sir Arthur and Sir Ralph, that none but you have only spoiled my game.
Sir Arth. I charge you stop us not.
Brian. I charge you both get out of my ground. Is this a time for such as you, men of place and of your gravity, to be abroad a-thieving? 'tis a shame; and afore God, if I had shot at you, I had served you well enough. [Exeunt.
Enter Banks the miller, wet on his legs.
Banks. Foot, here's a dark night indeed: I think I have been in fifteen ditches between this and the forest. Soft, here's Enfield church: I am so wet with climbing over into an orchard for to steal some filberts. Well, here I'll sit in the church-porch, and wait for the rest of my consorts.
Enter Sexton.
Sex. Here's a sky as black as Lucifer, God bless us! Here was goodman Theophilus buried: he was the best nut-cracker that ever dwelt in England. Well, 'tis nine o'clock, 'tis time to ring curfew.[302] Lord bless us, what a white thing is that in the church-porch![303] O lord, my legs are too weak for my body, my hair is too stiff for my nightcap, my heart fails; this is the ghost of Theophilus. O Lord, it follows me! I cannot say my prayers, and one would give me a thousand pound. Good spirit! I have bowled and drunk, and followed the hounds with you, a thousand times, though I have not the spirit now to deal with you. O Lord!
Enter Sir John.