Alba.
Brave cavaliers, princes of Albany,
Whose trenchant blades, with our deceased sire

Passing the frontiers of brave Græcia,
Were bathed in our enemies' lukewarm blood,
Now is the time to manifest your wills,
Your haughty minds and resolutions.
Now opportunity is offered
To try your courage and your earnest zeal,
Which you always protest to Albanact;
For at this time, yea at this present time,
Stout fugitives, come from the Scythians' bounds,
Have pester'd every place with mutinies.
But trust me, lordings, I will never cease
To persecute the rascal runagates,
Till all the rivers, stained with their blood,
Shall fully shew their fatal overthrow.

Deb.
So shall your highness merit great renown,
And imitate your aged father's steps.

Alba.
But tell me, cousin, cam'st thou through the plains?
And saw'st thou there the faint-heart fugitives,
Mustering their weather-beaten soldiers?
What order keep they in their marshalling?

Thra.
After we past the groves of Caledon,
Where murmuring rivers slide with silent streams,
We did behold the straggling Scythians' camp,
Replete with men, stor'd with munition.
There might we see the valiant-minded knights,
Fetching careers^{1 note} along the spacious plains.
Humber and Hubba arm'd in azure blue,
Mounted upon their coursers white as snow,
Went to behold the pleasant flowering fields:
Hector and Troilus, Priamus' lovely sons,
Chasing the Grecians over Simois,
Were not to be compar'd to these two knights.

Alba.
Well hast thou painted out in eloquence
The portraiture of Humber and his son.

As fortunate as was Polycrates^{2 note}

Thra.
What, sirs, what mean you by these clamours made,
These outcries raised in our stately court?

Strum.
Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.

Thra.
Villains, I say, tell us the cause hereof.

Strum.
Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.

Thra.
Tell me, you villains, why you make this noise,
Or with my lance I'll prick your bowels out.

Alba.
Where are your houses? where's your dwelling-place?

Strum.

Place! Ha, ha, ha! laugh a month and a day at him. Place! I cry God mercy: Why do you think that such poor honest men as we be, hold our habitacles in kings' palaces? Ha, ha, ha! But because you seem to be an abominable chieftain, I will tell you our state:

From the top to the toe,
From the head to the shoe,
From the beginning to the ending,
From the building to the brenning^{3 note}.

This honest fellow and I had our mansion-cottage in the suburbs of this city, hard by the temple of

Mercury; and by the common soldiers of the Shittens, the Scythians, (what do you call them?) with all the suburbs, were burnt to the ground; and the ashes are left there for the country wives to wash bucks withal:

And that which grieves me most,
  My loving wife,
  (O cruel strife!)
The wicked flames did roast.
And therefore, captain Crust,
  We will continually cry,
  Except you seek a remedy,
  Our houses to re-edify,
Which now are burnt to dust.

[Both cry
Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.]

Alba.
Well, we must remedy these outrages,
And throw revenge upon their hateful heads.
And you, good fellows, for your houses burnt,
We will remunerate you store of gold,
And build your houses by our palace-gate.

Strum.

Gate! O petty treason to my person, no where else but by your backside? Gate! O how I am vexed in my choler! Gate! I cry God mercy. Do you hear, master king? If you mean to gratify such poor men as we be, you must build our houses by the tavern.

Alba.

It shall be done, sir.

Strum.

Near the tavern; ay, by our lady. Sir, it was spoken like a good fellow. Do you hear, sir? When our house is builded, if you do chance to pass or re-pass that way, we will bestow a quart of the best wine upon you.

Alba.
It grieves me, lordings, that my subjects' goods
Should thus be spoiled by the Scythians,
Who, as you see, with lightfoot foragers,
Depopulate the places where they come:
But, cursed Humber, thou shalt rue the day,
That e'er thou cam'st unto Cathnesia. [Exeunt.

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