SCENE I. An Inn opposite the George, Waltham.
[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.
HILDERSHAM.
Alas, good knights, how might the matter be?
Let me understand your grief for Charity.
SIR ARTHUR.
Who does not understand my griefs? Alas, alas!
And yet ye do not! Will the Church permit
A nun in approbation of her habit
To be ravished?
HILDERSHAM.
A holy woman, benedicite!
Now God forfend that any should presume
To touch the sister of a holy house.
SIR ARTHUR.
Jesus deliver me!
SIR RAPH.
Why, Millisent, the daughter of this Knight
Is out of Chesson taken the last night.
HILDERSHAM.
Was that fair maiden late become a nun?
SIR RAPH. Was she, quotha? Knavery, knavery, knavery; I smell it, I smell it, yfaith; is the wind in that door? is it even so? doost thou ask me that now?
HILDERSHAM.
It is the first time that I ere heard of it.
SIR ARTHUR.
That's very strange.
SIR RAPH. Why, tell me, Friar, tell me; thou art counted a holy man; do not play the hypocrite with me, nor bear with me. I cannot dissemble: did I ought but by thy own consent? by thy allowance? nay, further, by thy warrant?
HILDERSHAM.
Why, Reverend knight—
SIR RAPH.
Unreverend Friar—
HILDERSHAM. Nay, then give me leave, sir, to depart in quiet; I had hoped you had sent for me to some other end.
SIR ARTHUR.
Nay, stay, good Friar; if any thing hath hapd
About this matter in thy love to u,
That thy strickt order cannot justify,
Admit it be so, we will cover it.
Take no care, man:
Disclaim me yet thy counsell and advise,
The wisest man that is may be o'erreacht.
HILDERSHAM.
Sir Arthur, by my order and my faith,
I know not what you mean.
SIR RAPH.
By your order and your faith?
This is most strange of all: Why, tell me, Friar,
Are not you Confessor to my Son Francke?
HILDERSHAM.
Yes, that I am.
SIR RAPH.
And did not this good knight here and my self
Confess with you, being his ghostly Father,
To deal with him about th' unbanded marriage
Betwixt him and that fair young Millisent?
HILDERSHAM.
I never heard of any match intended.
SIR ARTHUR.
Did not we break our minds that very time,
That our device of making her a Nun
Was but a colour and a very plot
To put by young Mountchensey? Ist not true?
HILDERSHAM.
The more I strive to know what you should mean,
The less I understand you.
SIR RAPH.
Did not you tell us still how Peter Fabell
At length would cross us, if we took not heed?
HILDERSHAM.
I have heard of one that is a great magician,
But he's about the University.
SIR RAPH.
Did not you send your novice Benedic
To persuade the girl to leave Mountchensey's love,
To cross that Peter Fabell in his art,
And to that purpose made him visitor?
HILDERSHAM.
I never sent my novice from the house,
Nor have we made our visitation yet.
SIR ARTHUR.
Never sent him? Nay, did he not go?
And did not I direct him to the house,
And confer with him by the way? and did he not
Tell me what charge he had received from you,
Word by word, as I requested at your hands?
HILDERSHAM.
That you shall know; he came along with me,
And stays without. Come hither, Benedic!
[Enter Benedic.]
Young Benedic, were you ere sent by me
To Chesson Nunnery for a visitor?
BENEDIC.
Never, sir, truly.
SIR RAPH.
Stranger then all the rest!
SIR ARTHUR.
Did not I direct you to the house?
Confer with you
From Waltham Abbey unto Chesson wall?
BENEDIC.
I never saw you, sir, before this hour.
SIR RAPH.
The devill thou didst not! Hoe, Chamberlen!
[Enter Chamberlaine.]
CHAMB.
Anon, anon.
SIR RAPH.
Call mine host Blague hither!
CHAMB. I will send one over to see if he be up; I think he be scarce stirring yet.
SIR RAPH. Why, knave, didst thou not tell me an hour ago, mine host was up?
CHAMB.
Aye, sir, my Master's up.
SIR RAPH.
You knave, is a up, and is a not up? Dost thou mock me?
CHAMB.
Aye, sir, my M. is up; but I think M. Blague indeed be not
Stirring.
SIR RAPH.
Why, who's thy Master? is not the Master of the house thy
Master?
CHAMB.
Yes, sir; but M. Blague dwells over the way.
SIR ARTHUR. Is not this the George? Before God, there's some villany in this.
CHAMB.
Sfoot, our signs removed; this is strange!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The George Inn.
[Enter Blague, trussing his points.]
BLAGUE. Chamberlen, speak up to the new lodgings, bid Nell look well to the baked meats.
[Enter Sir Arthur and Sir Raph.]
How now, my old Jenerts bauke my house, my castle? lie in
Waltham all night, and not under the Canopy of your host
Blague's house?
SIR ARTHUR.
Mine host, mine host, we lay all night at the George in
Waltham; but whether the George be your fee-simple or no,
tis a doubtful question: look upon your sign.
HOST. Body of Saint George, this is mine overthwart neighbour hath done this to seduce my blind customers. I'll tickle his Catastrophe for this; if I do not indite him at next assisses for Burglary, let me die of the yellows; for I see tis no boot in these days to serve the good Duke of Norfolk. The villanous world is turned manger; one Jade deceives another, and your Ostler plays his part commonly for the fourth share. Have we Comedies in hand, you whoreson, villanous male London Letcher?
SIR ARTHUR. Mine host, we have had the moylingst night of it that ever we had in our lives.
HOST.
Ist certain?
SIR RAPH.
We have been in the Forest all night almost.
HOST. S'foot, how did I miss you? hart, I was a stealing a Buck there.
SIR ARTHUR.
A plague on you; we were stayed for you.
HOST. Were you, my noble Romans? Why, you shall share; the venison is a footing. Sine Cerere and Baccho friget Venus; That is, there's a good breakfast provided for a marriage that's in my house this morning.
SIR ARTHUR.
A marriage, mine host?
HOST. A conjunction copulative; a gallant match between your daughter and M. Raymond Mountchensey, young Juventus.
SIR ARTHUR.
How?
HOST. Tis firm, tis done. We'll shew you a president i'th civil law fort.
SIR RAPH.
How? married?
HOST.
Leave tricks and admiration. There's a cleanly pair of sheets
in the bed in Orchard chamber, and they shall lie there. What?
I'll do it; I'll serve the good Duke of Norfolk.
SIR ARTHUR.
Thou shalt repent this, Blague.
SIR RAPH. If any law in England will make thee smart for this, expect it with all severity.
HOST. I renounce your defiance; if you parle so roughly, I'll barracado my gates against you. stand fair, bully; Priest, come off from the rereward! What can you say now? Twas done in my house; I have shelter i'th Court for't. D'yee see yon bay window? I serve the good duke of Norfolk, and tis his lodging. Storm, I care not, serving the good Duke of Norfolk: thou art an actor in this, and thou shalt carry fire in thy face eternally.
[Enter Smug, Mountchensey, Harry Clare, and Milliscent.]
SMUG. Fire, s'blood, there's no fire in England like your Trinidado sack. Is any man here humorous? We stole the venison, and we'll justify it: say you now!
HOST.
In good sooth, Smug, there's more sack on the fire, Smug.
SMUG. I do not take any exceptions against your sack; but it you'll lend me a pick staff, I'll cudgle them all hence, by this hand.
HOST.
I say thou shalt in to the Celler.
SMUG. S'foot, mine Host, shalls not grapple? Pray, pray you; I could fight now for all the world like a Cockatrices ege; shals not serve the Duke of Norfolk?
[Exit.]
HOST.
In, skipper, in!
SIR ARTHUR.
Sirra, hath young Mountchensey married your sister?
HARRY CLARE. Tis Certain, Sir; here's the priest that coupled them, the parties joined, and the honest witness that cried Amen.
MOUNTCHENSEY. Sir Arthur Clare, my new created Father, I beseech you, hear me.
SIR ARTHUR. Sir, Sir, you are a foolish boy; you ahve done that you cannot answer; I dare be bound to seize her from you; for she's a profest Nun.
MILLISCENT.
With pardon, sir, that name is quite undone;
This true-love knot cancels both maid and Nun.
When first you told me I should act that part,
How cold and bloody it crept o'er my heart!
To Chesson with a smiling brow I went;
But yet, dear sir, it was to this intent,
That my sweet Raymond might find better means
To steal me thence. In brief, disguised he came,
Like Novice to old father Hildersham;
His tutor here did act that cunning part,
And in our love hath joined much wit to art.
CLARE.
Is't even so?
MILLISCENT.
With pardon therefore we intreat your smiles;
Love thwarted turns itself to thousand wiles.
CLARE.
Young Master Jerningham, were you an actor
In your own love's abuse?
JERNINGHAM.
My thoughts, good sir,
Did labour seriously unto this end,
To wrong my self, ere I'd abuse my friend.
HOST.
He speaks like a Batchelor of musicke, all in numbers.
Knights, if I had known you would have let this covy of
Patridges sit thus long upon their knees under my sign
post, I would have spread my door with old Coverlids.
SIR ARTHUR.
Well, sir, for this your sign was removed, was it?
HOST.
Faith, we followed the directions of the devill, Master Peter
Fabell; and Smug, Lord bless us, could never stand upright
since.
SIR ARTHUR.
You, sir, twas you was his minister that married them?
SIR JOHN. Sir, to prove my self an honest man, being that I was last night in the forrest stealing Venison—now, sir, to have you stand my friend, if that matter should be called in question, I married your daughter to this worthy gentleman.
SIR ARTHUR.
I may chance to requite you, and make your neck crack for't.
SIR JOHN.
If you do, I am as resolute as my Neighbour vicar of Waltham
Abbey; a hem, Grass and hay, we are all mortall; let's live
till we be hangd, mine host, and be merry, and there's an end.
[Enter Fabell.]
FABELL.
Now, knights, I enter; now my part begins.
To end this difference, know, at first I knew
What you intended, ere your love took flight
From old Mountchensey; you, sir Arthur Clare,
Were minded to have married this sweet beauty
To young Franke Jerningham; to cross which match,
I used some pretty sleights; but I protest
Such as but sate upon the skirts of Art;
No conjurations, nor such weighty spells
As tie the soul to their performancy.
These for his love, who once was my dear pupil,
Have I effected. Now, me thinks, tis strange
That you, being old in wisdom, should thus knit
Your forehead on this match, since reason fails;
No law can curb the lovers rash attempt;
Years, in resisting this, are sadly spent.
Smile, then, upon your daughter and kind son,
And let our toil to future ages prove,
The devil of Edmonton did good in Love.
SIR ARTHUR.
Well, tis in vain to cross the providence:
Dear Son, I take thee up into my heart;
Rise, daughter; this is a kind father's part.
HOST. Why, Sir John, send for Spindles noise presently: Ha, ert be night, I'll serve the good Duke of Norfolk.
PRI. Grass and hay, mine Host, let's live till we die, and be merry, and there's an end.
SIR ARTHUR.
What, is breakfast ready, mine Host?
HOST.
Tis, my little Hebrew.
SIR ARTHUR.
Sirra, ride strait to Chesson Nunry,
Fetch thence my Lady; the house, I know,
By this time misses their young votary.
Come, knights, let's in!
BILBO. I will to horse presently, sir.—A plague a my Lady, I shall miss a good breakfast. Smug, how chance you cut so plaguely behind, Smug?
SMUG.
Stand away; I'll founder you else.
BILBO.
Farewell, Smug, thou art in another element.
SMUG.
I will be by and by; I will be Saint George again.
SIR ARTHUR.
Take heed the fellow do not hurt himself.
SIR RAPH.
Did we not last night find two S. Georges here?
FABELL.
Yes, Knights, this martialist was one of them.
CLARE.
Then thus conclude your night of merriment!
[Exeunt Omnes.]