Sir Arthur. 
My daughter!

Brian. 
My Deer!

Sir Raph. 
Where is Mountchensey?

Brian. 
Where’s my Buck?

Sir Arthur. 
I will complain me of thee to the King.

Brian. 
I’ll complain unto the King you spoil his game: 
Tis strange that men of your account and calling
Will offer it! 
I tell you true, Sir Arthur and Sir Raph,
That none but you have only spoild my game.

Sir Arthur. 
I charge you, stop us not!

Brian. 
I charge you both ye get out of my ground! 
Is this a time for such as you,
Men of your place and of your gravity,
To be abroad a thieving? tis a shame;
And, afore God, if I had shot at you,
I had served you well enough.

[Exeunt.]

Scene II.  Enfield Churchyard.

[Enter Banks the Miller, wet on his legs.]

Banks.  S’foot, here’s a dark night indeed!  I think I have been in fifteen ditches between this and the forest.  Soft, here’s Enfield Church:  I am so wet with climing over into an orchard for to steal some filberts.  Well, here I’ll sit in the Church porch, and wait for the rest of my consort.

[Enter the Sexton.]

Sexton.  Here’s a sky as black as Lucifer.  God bless us! here was goodman Theophilus buried; he was the best Nutcracker that ever dwelt in Enfield.  Well, tis 9. a clock, tis time to ring curfew.  Lord bless us, what a white thing is that in the Church porch!  O Lord, my legs are too weak for my body, my hair is too stiff for my night-cap, my heart fails; this is the ghost of Theophilus.  O Lord, it follows me!  I cannot say my prayers, and one would give me a thousand pound.  Good spirit, I have bowled and drunk and followed the hounds with you a thousand times, though I have not the spirit now to deal with you.  O Lord!

[Enter Priest.]

Priest.
Grass and hey, we are all mortall.  Who’s there?

Sexton. 
We are grass and hay indeed; I know you to be Master
Parson by your phrase.

Priest.
Sexton!

Priest.
I, sir.

Priest.
For mortalities sake, What’s the matter?

Sexton.  O Lord, I am a man of another element; Master Theophilus Ghost is in the Church porch.  There was a hundred Cats, all fire, dancing here even now, and they are clomb up to the top of the steeple; I’ll not into the belfry for a world.

Priest. O good Salomon; I have been about a deed of darkness to night:  O Lord, I saw fifteen spirits in the forest, like white bulls; if I lie, I am an arrant thief:  mortality haunts us—­grass and hay! the devils at our heels, and let’s hence to the parsonage.

[Exeunt.]

[The Miller comes out very softly.]