Sum.

I have the law to warrant what I do; and though the lord Cobham be a nobleman, that dispenses not with law: I dare serve a process, were he five noblemen. Though we sumners make sometimes a mad slip in a corner with a pretty wench, a sumner must not go always by seeing: a man may be content to hide his eyes where he may feel his profit. Well, this is lord Cobham's house; if I cannot speak with him, I'll clap my citation upon his door; so my Lord of Rochester bad me: but methinks here comes one of his men.

Enter Harpool.

Har.

Welcome, good fellow, welcome; who would'st thou speak with?

Sum.

With my lord Cobham I would speak, if thou be one of his men.

Har.

Yes, I am one of his men: but thou canst not speak with my lord.

Sum.

May I send to him then?

Har.

I'll tell thee that, when I know thy errand.

Sum.

I will not tell my errand to thee.

Har.

Then keep it to thyself, and walk like a knave as thou cam'st.

Sum.

I tell thee, my lord keeps no knaves, sirrah.

Har.

Then thou servest him not, I believe. What lord is thy master?

Sum.

My lord of Rochester.

Har.

In good time: And what would'st thou have with my lord Cobham?

Sum.

I come, by virtue of a process, to cite him to appear before my lord in the court at Rochester.

Har. [Aside.]

Well, God grant me patience! I could eat this conger^{4 note}. My lord is not at home; therefore it were good, Sumner, you carried your process back.

Sum.

Why, if he will not be spoken withal, then will I leave it here; and see that he take knowledge of it.

Har.

'Zounds you slave, do you set up your bills here? Go to; take it down again. Dost thou know what thou dost? Dost thou know on whom thou servest a process?

Sum.

Yes, marry do I; on sir John Oldcastle, lord Cobham.

Har.

I am glad thou knowest him yet. And sirrah, dost thou not know that the lord Cobham is a

brave lord, that keeps good beef and beer in his house, and every day feeds a hundred poor people at his gate, and keeps a hundred tall fellows^{5 note}?

Sum.

What's that to my process?

Har.

Marry this, sir; is this process parchment?

Sum.

Yes, marry is it.

Har.

And this seal wax?

Sum.

It is so.

Har.

If this be parchment, and this wax, eat you this parchment and this wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat your brains into wax. Sirrah, Summer, dispatch; devour, sirrah, devour^{6 note}

Sum.

I am my lord of Rochester's sumner; I came to do my office, and thou shalt answer it.

Har.

Sirrah, no railing, but betake yourself to your teeth. Thou shalt eat no worse than thou bring'st with thee. Thou bring'st it for my lord, and wilt thou bring my lord worse than thou wilt eat thyself?

Sum.

Sir, I brought it not my lord to eat.

Har.

O, do you sir me now? All's one for that; I'll make you eat it, for bringing it.

Sum.

I cannot eat it.

Har.

Can you not? 'sblood I'll beat you till you have a stomach.

Sum.

O hold, hold, good master Servingman; I will eat it.

Har.

Be champing, be chewing, sir, or I'll chew you, you rogue. Tough wax is the purest honey.

Sum.

The purest of the honey!—O, Lord, sir! oh! oh!

Har.

Feed, feed; 'tis wholsome, rogue, wholsome^{7 note}

Sum.

O, I am almost choak'd, I am almost choak'd.

Har.

Who's within there? will you shame my lord? is there no beer in the house? Butler, I say.

But.

Here, here.

Har.

Give him beer. There; tough old sheepskin's bare dry meat^{8 note}.

Sum.

O, sir, let me go no further; I'll eat my word.

Har.

Yea marry, sir, I mean you shall eat more than your own word; for I'll make you eat all the words in the process. Why, you drab-monger, cannot the secrets of all the wenches in a shire serve your turn, but you must come hither with a citation, with a pox? I'll cite you.—A cup of sack for the summer.

But.

Here, sir, here.

Har.

Here, slave, I drink to thee.

Sum.

I thank you, sir.

Har.

Now, if thou find'st thy stomach well, because thou shalt see my lord keeps meat in his house, if thou wilt go in, thou shalt have a piece of beef to thy breakfast.9Q1352

Sum.

No, I am very well, good master servingman, I thank you; very well, sir.

Har.

I am glad on't: then be walking towards Rochester to keep your stomach warm. And, Sumner, if I do know you disturb a good wench within this diocese, if I do not make thee eat her petticoat, if there were four yards of Kentish cloth in it, I am a villain.

Sum.

God be wi' you, master servingman.

Har.

Farewel, Sumner.

Con.

Save you, master Harpool.

Har.

Welcome constable, welcome constable; what news with thee?

Con.

An't please you, master Harpool, I am to make hue and cry for a fellow with one eye, that has robb'd two clothiers; and am to crave your hindrance to search all suspected places; and they say there was a woman in the company.

Har.

Hast thou been at the ale-house? hast thou sought there?

Con.

I durst not search in my lord Cobham's liberty, except I had some of his servants for my warrant.

Har.

An honest constable: Call forth him that keeps the ale-house there.

Con.

Ho, who's within there?

Ale-man.

Who calls there? Oh, is't you, master constable, and master Harpool? you're welcome with all my heart. What make you here so early this morning?

Har.

Sirrah, what strangers do you lodge? there is a robbery done this morning, and we are to search for all suspected persons.

Ale-man.

Gods-bore, I am sorry for't. I'faith, sir, I lodge no body, but a good honest priest, call'd sir John a Wrotham, and a handsome woman that is his niece, that he says he has some suit in law for; and as they go up and down to London, sometimes they lie at my house.

Har.

What, is she here in thy house now?

Ale-man.

She is, sir: I promise you, sir, he is a quiet man, and because he will not trouble too many rooms, he makes the woman lie every night at his bed's feet.

Har.

Bring her forth, constable; bring her forth: let's see her, let's see her.

Ale-man.

Dorothy, you must come down to master constable.

Doll.

Anon forsooth.

Har.

Welcome, sweet lass, welcome.

Doll.

I thank you, good sir, and master constable also.

Har.

A plump girl by the mass, a plump girl. Ha, Doll, ha! Wilt thou forsake the priest, and go with me, Doll?

Con.

Ah! well said, master Harpool; you are a merry old man i'faith; you will never be old. Now by the mack, a pretty wench indeed!

Har.

You old mad merry constable, art thou advis'd of that? Ha, well said Doll; fill some ale here.

Doll.

Oh, if I wist this old priest would not stick to me, by Jove I would ingle this old serving-man^{9 note}

Har.

O you old mad colt, i'faith I'll ferk you: fill all the pots in the house there.

Con.

Oh! well said, master Harpool; you are a heart of oak when all's done.

Har.

Ha, Doll, thou hast a sweet pair of lips by the mass.

Doll.

Truly you are a most sweet old man, as ever I saw; by my troth, you have a face able to make any woman in love with you.

Har.

Fill, sweet Doll, I'll drink to thee.

Doll.

I pledge you, sir, and thank you therefore, and I pray you let it come^{1 note}

Har. [Embracing her]

Doll, canst thou love me? A mad merry lass; would to God I had never seen thee!

Doll.

I warrant you, you will not out of my thoughts this twelvemonth; truly you are as full of favour, as a man may be^{2 note}

. Ah, these sweet grey locks! by my troth they are most lovely.

Con.

Cuds bores, master Harpool, I'll have one buss too.

Har.

No licking for you, constable; hands off, hands off.

Con.

By'r lady, I love kissing as well as you.

Doll.

O, you are an old boy* ^note, you have a wanton eye of your own: Ah, you sweet sugar-lip'd wanton, you will win as many women's hearts as come in your company.

Sir John.

Doll, come hither.

Har.

Priest, she shall not.

Doll.

I'll come anon, sweet love.

Sir John.

Hands off, old fornicator.

Har.

Vicar, I'll sit here in spite of thee. Is this fit stuff for a priest to carry up and down with him?

Sir John.

Sirrah, dost thou not know that a goodfellow parson may have a chapel of ease, where his parish church is far off?

Har.

You whorson ston'd vicar.

Sir John.

You old stale ruffian, you lion of Cotswold^{3 note}

Har.

'Zounds, vicar, I'll geld you.

Con.

Keep the king's peace.

Doll.

Murder, murder, murder!

Ale-man.

Hold, as you are men, hold; for God's sake be quiet: put up your weapons, you draw not in my house.

Har.

You whorson bawdy priest.

Sir John.

You old mutton-monger^{4 note}.

Con.

Hold, sir John, hold.

Doll.

I pray thee, sweet heart, be quiet: I was but sitting to drink a pot of ale with him; even as kind a man as ever I met with.

Har.

Thou art a thief, I warrant thee.

Sir John.

Then I am but as thou hast been in thy days. Let's not be asham'd of our trade; the king has been a thief himself.

Doll.

Come, be quiet. Hast thou sped?

Sir John.

I have, wench; here be crowns i'faith.

Doll.

Come, let's be all friends then.

Con.

Well said, mistress Dorothy.

Har.

Thou art the maddest priest that ever I met with.

Sir John.

Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow. I am a singer, a drinker, a bencher^{5 note}

Har.

Well said, mad priest; we'll in, and be friends.