Fabell. 
But how, Mountchensey? how, lad, for the wench?

Mountchensey. 
Sound, lads, yfaith; I thank my holy habit,
I have confest her, and the Lady Prioress
Hath given me ghostly counsel with her blessing. 
And how say ye, boys,
If I be chose the weekly visitor?

Clare. 
Z’blood, she’ll have nere a Nun unbagd to sing mass then.

Jerningham. 
The Abbot of Waltham will have as many Children to put to
nurse as he has calves in the Marsh.

Mountchensey.  Well, to be brief, the Nun will soon at night turn tippit; if I can but devise to quit her cleanly of the Nunry, she is mine own.

Fabell. 
But, Sirra Raymond,
What news of Peter Fabell at the house?

Mountchensey. 
Tush, he’s the only man;
A Necromancer and a Conjurer
That works for young Mountchensey altogether;
And if it be not for Friar Benedick,
That he can cross him by his learned skill,
The Wench is gone;
Fabell will fetch her out by very magick.

Fabell. 
Stands the wind there, boy? keep them in that key. 
The wench is ours before to-morrow day. 
Well, Hal and Frank, as ye are gentlemen,
Stick to us close this once!  You know your fathers
Have men and horse lie ready still at Chesson,
To watch the coast be clear, to scout about,
And have an eye unto Mountchensey’s walks: 
Therefore you two may hover thereabouts,
And no man will uspect you for the matter;
Be ready but to take her at our hands,
Leave us to scamble for her getting out.

Jerningham. 
Z’blood, if all Herford-shire were at our heels,
We’ll carry her away in spite of them.

Clare. 
But whither, Raymond?

Mountchensey. 
To Brian’s upper lodge in Enfield Chase;
He is mine honest Friend and a tall keeper;
I’ll send my man unto him presently
T’ acquaint him with your coming and intent.

Fabell. 
Be brief and secret.

Mountchensey. 
Soon at night remember
You bring your horses to the willow ground.

Jerningham. 
Tis done; no more!

Clare. 
We will not fail the hour. 
My life and fortune now lies in your power.

Fabell. 
About our business!  Raymond, let’s away! 
Think of your hour; it draws well of the day.

[Exit.]

ACT IV.

Scene I. Enfield Chase.

[Enter Blague, Smug, and Sir John.]

Blague.  Come, ye Hungarian pilchers, we are once more come under the zona torrida of the forest.  Let’s be resolute, let’s fly to and again; and if the devil come, we’ll put him to his Interrogatories, and not budge a foot.  What? s’foot, I’ll put fire into you, ye shall all three serve the good Duke of Norfolk.