Sir Raph. 
Sir Arthur, Sir Arthur, care go with those days,
Let ’am even go together, let ’am go! 
Tis time, yfaith, that we were in our graves,
When Children leave obedience to their parents,
When there’s no fear of God, no care, no duty. 
Well, well, nay, nay, it shall not do, it shall not;
No, Mountchensey, thou’st hear on’t, thou shalt,
Thou shalt, yfaith! 
I’ll hang thy Son, if there be law in England. 
A man’s Child ravisht from a Nunry! 
This is rare! 
Well, well, there’s one gone for Friar Hildersam.

Sir Arthur.  Nay, gentle Knight, do not vex thus, It will but hurt your health.  You cannot grieve more then I do, but to what end?  But hark you, Sir Raph, I was about to say something—­it makes no matter.  But heark you in your ear:  the Friar’s a knave; but God forgive me, a man cannot tell neither; s’foot, I am so out of patience, I know not what to say.

Sir Raph.  There’s one went for the Friar an hour ago.  Comes he not yet? s’foot, if I do find knavery unders cowl, I’ll tickle him, I’ll firk him.  Here, here, he’s here, he’s here.  Good morrow, Friar; good morrow, gentle Friar.

[Enter Hildersham.]

Sir ARHTUR. 
Good morrow, father Hildersham, good morrow.

Hildersham. 
Good morrow, reverend Knights, unto you both.

Sir Arthur. 
Father, how now? you hear how matters go;
I am undone, my child is cast away. 
You did your best, at least I think the best;
But we are all crost; flatly, all is dasht.

Hildersham. 
Alas, good knights, how might the matter be? 
Let me understand your grief for Charity.

Sir Arthur. 
Who does not understand my griefs?  Alas, alas! 
And yet ye do not!  Will the Church permit
A nun in approbation of her habit
To be ravished?

Hildersham. 
A holy woman, benedicite! 
Now God forfend that any should presume
To touch the sister of a holy house.

Sir Arthur. 
Jesus deliver me!

Sir Raph. 
Why, Millisent, the daughter of this Knight
Is out of Chesson taken the last night.

Hildersham. 
Was that fair maiden late become a nun?

Sir Raph.  Was she, quotha?  Knavery, knavery, knavery; I smell it, I smell it, yfaith; is the wind in that door? is it even so? doost thou ask me that now?

Hildersham. 
It is the first time that I ere heard of it.

Sir Arthur. 
That’s very strange.

Sir Raph.  Why, tell me, Friar, tell me; thou art counted a holy man; do not play the hypocrite with me, nor bear with me.  I cannot dissemble:  did I ought but by thy own consent? by thy allowance? nay, further, by thy warrant?

Hildersham. 
Why, Reverend knight—­