SCENE II.
London.
A room in the Axe Inn, without Bishop-gate.
Enter sir Roger Acton, Bourn, Beverley, and Murley.
Act.
Now, master Murley, I am well assur'd
You know our errand, and do like the cause,
Being a man affected as we are.
Mur.
Marry God dild ye6 note, dainty my dear: no
master, good sir Roger Acton, master Bourn, and
master Beverley, gentlemen and justices of the peace;
no master, I, but plain William Murley, the brewer
of Dunstable, your honest neighbour and your friend,
if ye be men of my profession.
Bev.
Professed friends to Wickliff, foes to Rome.
Mur.
Hold by me, lad; lean upon that staff, good
master Beverley; all of a house. Say your mind, say
your mind.
Act.
You know, our faction now is grown so great
Throughout the realm, that it begins to smoke
Into the clergy's eyes, and the king's ears.
High time it is that we were drawn to head,
Our general and officers appointed;
And wars, you wot, will ask great store of coin.
Able to strength our action with your purse,
You are elected for a colonel
Over a regiment of fifteen bands.
Mur.
Phew, paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro,
be it more or less upon occasion. Lord have mercy
upon us, what a world is this! Sir Roger Acton, I
am but a Dunstable man, a plain brewer, you know.
-- 296 --
Will lusty caveliering captains, gentlemen, come at
my calling, go at my bidding? dainty my dear,
they'll do a dog of wax,9Q1353 a horse of cheese, a prick
and a pudding. No, no; ye must appoint some lord
or knight at least, to that place.
Bour.
Why, master Murley, you shall be a knight7 note.
Were you not in election to be sheriff?
Have you not pass'd all offices but that?
Have you not wealth to make your wife a lady?
I warrant you, my lord, our general,
Bestows that honour on you, at first sight.
Mur.
Marry God dild ye, dainty my dear. But tell
me, who shall be our general. Where's the lord
Cobham, sir John Oldcastle, that noble alms-giver,
house-keeper, virtuous, religious gentleman? Come
to me there, boys; come to me there.
Act.
Why, who but he shall be our general?
Mur.
And shall he knight me, and make me colonel?
Act.
My word for that, sir William Murley knight.
Mur.
Fellow, sir Roger Acton knight, all fellows,
I mean in arms, how strong are we? how many partners?
Our enemies beside the king are mighty: be it
more or less upon occasion, reckon our force.
Act.
There are of us, our friends, and followers,
Three thousand and three hundred at the least;
Of northern lads four thousand, beside horse;
From Kent there comes, with sir John Oldcastle,
Seven thousand: then from London issue out,
Of masters, servants, strangers, 'prentices,
Forty odd thousand into Ficket field,
Where we appoint our special rendevouz.
-- 297 --
Mur.
Phew, paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro.
Lord have mercy upon us, what a world is this!
Where's that Ficket field, sir Roger?
Act.
Behind St. Giles's in the field, near Holbourn.
Mur.
Newgate, up Holbourn, St. Giles's in the
Field, and to Tyburn; an old saw. For the day,
for the day?
Act.
On Friday next, the fourteenth day of January.
Mur.
Tilly vally8 note, trust me never, if I have any
liking of that day. Phew, paltry, paltry! Friday,
quoth-a, a dismal day: Childermas day this year was
Friday.
Bev.
Nay, master Murley, if you observe such days,
We make some question of your constancy:
All days are alike to men resolv'd in right.
Mur.
Say amen, and say no more, but say and
hold, master Beverley: Friday next, and Ficket field,
and William Murley and his merry men, shall be all
one. I have half a score jades that draw my beer
carts; and every jade shall bear a knave, and every
knave shall wear a jack, and every jack shall have a
skull9 note
, and every skull shall shew a spear, and every
spear shall kill a foe at Ficket field, at Ficket field.
John and Tom, Dick and Hodge, Ralph and Robin,
William and George, and all my knaves, shall fight
like men at Ficket field, on Friday next.
Bourn.
What sum of money mean you to disburse?
Mur.
It may be, modestly, decently, and soberly,
and handsomely, I may bring five hundred pound.
-- 298 --
Act.
Five hundred, man? five thousand's not enough:
A hundred thousand will not pay our men
Two months together. Either come prepar'd
Like a brave knight and martial colonel,
In glittering gold, and gallant furniture,
Bringing in coin, a cart-load at the least,
And all your followers mounted on good horse,
Or never come disgraceful to us all.
Bev.
Perchance you may be chosen treasurer;
Ten thousand pound's the least that you can bring.
Mur.
Paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro: upon
occasion I have ten thousand pound to spend, and
ten too. And rather than the bishop shall have his
will of me, for my conscience, it shall all go. Flame
and flax, flax and flame. It was got with water
and malt, and it shall fly with fire and gun-powder.
Sir Roger, a cart-load of money, till the axletree
crack; myself and my men in Ficket field on Friday
next: remember my knight-hood and my place:
there's my hand, I'll be there.
[Exit Murley.
Act.
See what ambition may persuade men to:
In hope of honour he will spend himself.
Bourn.
I never thought a brewer half so rich.
Bev.
Was never bankrupt brewer yet but one,
With using too much malt, too little water.
Act.
That is no fault in brewers now adays:
Come, let's away about our business.
[Exeunt.
Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
