Smug.  Mine host, my bully, my pretious consull, my noble Holofernes, I have been drunk i’ thy house twenty times and ten, all’s for that:  I was last night in the third heavens, my brain was poor, it had yest in ’t; but now I am a man of action; is ’t not so, lad?

Banks. 
Why, now thou hast two of the liberall sciences about thee,
wit and reason, thou maist serve the Duke of Europe.

Smug.  I will serve the Duke of Christendom, and do him more credit in his celler then all the plate in his buttery; is ’t not so, lad?

Sir John.  Mine host and Smug, stand there; Banks, you and your horse keep together; but lie close, shew no tricks, for fear of the keeper.  If we be scared, we’ll meet in the Church-porch at Enfield.

Smug. 
Content, sir John.

Banks. 
Smug, dost not thou remember the tree thou felst out of last
Night?

Smug.  Tush, and ’t had been as high as the Abbey, I should nere have hurt my self; I have fallen into the river, coming home from Waltham, and scapt drowning.

Sir John. 
Come, sever, fear no sprits!  We’ll have a Buck presently;
we have watched later then this for a Doe, mine Host.

Host.
Thou speakst as true as velvet.

Sir John. 
Why then, come!  Grass and hay, etc.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter Clare, Jerningham, and Milliscent.]

Clare. 
Franke Jerningham!

Jerningham. 
Speak softly, rogue; how now?

Clare. 
S’foot, we shall lose our way, it’s so dark; whereabouts
are we?

Jerningham. 
Why, man, at Potters gate; the way lies right:  hark! the
clock strikes at Enfield; what’s the hour?

Clare. 
Ten, the bell says.

Jerningham. 
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.

Clare.  Nay, as sure as thou liv’st, the villanous vicar is abroad in the chase this dark night:  the stone Priest steals more venison then half the country.

Jerningham. 
Milliscent, how dost thou?

Milliscent. 
Sir, very well. 
I would to God we were at Brians lodge.

Clare. 
We shall anon; z’ounds, hark!  What means this noise?

Jerningham. 
Stay, I hear horsemen.

Clare. 
I hear footmen too.

Jerningham. 
Nay, then I have it:  we have been discovered,
And we are followed by our fathers men.

Milliscent. 
Brother and friend, alas, what shall we do?

Clare. 
Sister, speak softly, or we are descried. 
They are hard upon us, what so ere they be,
Shadow your self behind this brake of fern,
We’ll get into the wood, and let them pass.