SIR RALPH

Thanks good host Blague. Good Sir Arthur Clare. There's nought can altar it, be merry lad. If I understand thee, I am a villain, What, dost thou speak in parables to thy friends? Who I? z'blood, what should all you see in me, That I should look Like a married man? would, Am I bald? are my legs too little for my hose? If I feel any thing in my forehead, I am A villain, do I wear a nightcap? do I bend in the hams? What dost thou see in me that I should be towards marriage, would? Raimond Mountchensey, now I touch thy grief, With the true feeling of a zealous friend. And as for fair and beauteous Millescent, With my vain breath I will not seek to ssubber, Her angel Like perfections, but thou knowest, That Essex hath the Saint that I adore, Where ere did we meet thee and wanton springs, That Like a wag thou hast not laughed at me, And with regardless jesting mocked my love? Now many a sad and weary summer night, My sighs have drunk the Due from off the earth, I have taught the watchful Niting-gale to wake, And from the meadows spring the early lark, And hour before she would have rose to sing, I have loaded the poor minutes with my moans, That I have made the heavy slow paced hours, To hang Like heavy clogs upon the day. But deer Mounchensey, had not my affection Seized on the beauty of another dame, Before I would give over the chase and wrong the love, Of one so worthy and so true a friend, I will abjure both beauty and her sighed, And will in love become a counterfeit. Forewarned poor Raimond's company to heaven, When the composure of weak frailty meet, Upon this Mars of dirt; Oh then weak love, Must in his own unhappiness be silent, And wink on all deformities. Our friendship die not Raimond. Farewell deer Raimond. Now Visitor how does this new made Nun? The Abbot of Uvaltham will have as many Children, to put to nurse, as he has calves in the Marsh. Z'bloud if all Herford-shire were at our heals, weel carry her away in spite of them. 'Tis done, no more. Speak softly rogue, how now? Why man, at Potters gate, The way lies right, hark the clock strikes at Enfeild; whats the hour? A lies in's throat, it was but eight when we set out of Chesson, Sir John and his Sexton are at ale to night, the clock runs at random. Milliscent, how dost thou? Stay, I hear horsemen. Nay then I have it, we have been discovered, And we are followed by our father's men. Call softly for your sister We herd a noise about her in the chase, And fearing that our father's had pursued us, severed ourselves. Towards Enfeild. My thoughts, good sir, Did labour seriously unto this end, To wrong my self ere idem abuse my friend. Well now Frank Clare, how sayest thou? to be brief, What wilt thou say for all this, if we two, Thy father and my self, can bring about, That we convert this Nun to be a wife, And thou the husband to this pretty Nun, How then my lad? would Frank, it may be done. Sir Arthur, Sir Arthur, care go with those days, Let'am even go together, let'am go. 'Tis time i'faith 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, thoust hear on't, thou shalt, Thou shalt i'faith, I'll hang thy Son if there be law in England: A men Child ravished from a Nunry! This is rare; well well, ther's one gone for Friar Hildersam. Ther's one went for the Friar and hour ago; Comes he not yet! 'sfoot if I do find knavery unders cowl; I! tickle him: isle firk him; here here he's here, he's here. Good morrow Friar, good morrow gentle Friar. Why Millisent the daughter of this Knight, Is out of Chesson taken the last night. Was she quotha? knavery, knavery, knavery; I smell it, I smell it i'faith; is the wind in that door? is it even so! dost thou ask me that now! 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? Unreverend Friar. And did not this good knight here and my self, Confess, with you being his ghostly Father, To deal with him about unbanded marriage, Betwixt him and that fair young Millisent? Call mine host Blague hither. You knave, is a up, and is a not up? Dost thou mock me? Boy I am glad to hear Thou makest such scruple of that conscience, And in a man so young as is your self, I promise you 'tis very seldom seen. But Frank this is a trick, a mere devise, A sleight plotted betwixt her father and my self, To thrust Mounchenseys nose beside the cushion, That being thus debarred of all access, Time yet may work him from her thoughts, And give thee ample scope to thy desires. The devil thou didst not, hoc Chamberlen. In the kings name pursue the Ravisher. We are Knights, sir Arthur Clare and sir Ralph Jer ningham. Oh Brian a villain, Thou hast received my daughter to thy lodge. Where is Mountchensey? Good morrow gentle knight, A happy day after your short nights rest, Did not you tell us still how Peter Fabell at length would cross us if we took not heed? Did not you send your novice Benedic, To persuade the girl to leave Mountchenseys love, To cross that Peter Fabell in his art, And to that purpose made him visitor? Did not I direct you to the house? Confer with you from Uvaltham Abbey Unto Chesson wall? Why knave, didst thou not tell me and hour ago mine host was up? Why, who's thy Master? is not the Master of the house thy Master? We have been in the Forest all night almost. How I married! If any law in England will make thee smart for this, expect it with all severity. Did we not last night find two S. Georges here.