Margret. Yes, Bungay; and would God the lovely earle 40
Had that in esse that so many sought.
Bungay. Feare not, the frier will not be behind
To shew his cunning to entangle love.
Edward. I thinke the frier courts the bonny wench:[1345]
Bacon, me thinkes he is a lustie churle. 45
Bacon. Now looke, my lord.
Enter Lacie.
Edward. Gogs wounds, Bacon, heere comes Lacie![1346]
Bacon. Sit still, my lord, and marke the commedie.