'And all the rest of this fair Company. Cam. We were intended to have been your Guests: Cob. Business, my Lord? what Business should Scroop. That is indeed the thing we all defire. Lives not in Cowling: If you will confent, Cob. 'Tis pity fuch a goodly Beast should die, • Of late he's broke into a several, Which doth belong to me, and there he spoils Scroop. How say you then, will you first hunt with us? Cob Cob. Faith, Lords, I like the Pastime, where's the place? Cam. Perufe this writing, it will shew you all, And what occafion we have for the sport. [He reads. Cob. Call ye this Hunting, my Lords? Is this the Stag You fain would chase, Harry our dread King? So we may make a Banquet for the Devil? And in the stead of wholsome Meat, prepare A Dish of Poison to confound our selves. Cam. Why so, Lord Cobham? See you not our claim? And how imperiously he holds the Crown? Scroop. Besides, you know your felf is in disgrace, [Afide But where are Men? where's pow'r and furniture Cam. Tut, we are strong enough; you are belov'd, Cob. Some likelihood, I must confefs, to speed: Cam. Then perish may my Soul; what, think you fo? Gray Gray. Or take the Sacrament. Cob. Nay you are Noblemen, and I imagine, That you would all subscribe, and set your Hands Cam. With all our Hearts: Who hath any Pen and Ink? Gray. And mine. Cob. Sir, let me crave that you would likewise write your Name with theirs, for Confirmation of your Master's words, the King of France. Char. That will I, noble Lord. Cob. So, now this Action is well knit together, About folliciting of other Friends. Scroop. And we would not be absent from the Court, Left thereby grow fufpicion in the King. Cob. Yet tafte a Cup of Wine before ye go. Cam. Not now, my Lord, we thank you; so farewell. [Exeunt all but Cobham. Cob. Farewel, my noble Lords. My noble Lords? My noble Villains, base Conspirators, How can they look his Highness in the Face, Whom they so closely study to betray? But I'll not fsleep until I make it known, This Head shall not be burthen'd with such Thoughts, Nor in this Heart will I conceal a Deed Of such impiety against my King. Madam, how now? Enter Lady Cobham, Lord Powis, Lady Powis and Harpool. L. Cob. You're welcome home, my Lord: Why feem ye so unquiet in your Looks? What What hath befall'n you that disturbs your Mind? L. Pow. So great a Kindness, as I know not how to reply, my Sense is quite confounded. Cob. Let that alone; and, Madam, stay me not, L. Cob. So foon my Lord? what will you ride all Night? Urge me not why, or what my Business is, Har. Shall I attend your Lordship to the Court? Pow. Some earnest Business is a-foot belike, Whate'er it be, pray God be his good Guide. L. Pow. Amen, that hath so highly us bested. L. Cob. Come, Madam, and my Lord, we'll hope the best, You shall not into Wales 'till he return. Pow. Though great Occafion be we should depart, Yet, Madam, will we stay to be refolv'd [Exeunt. Enter Murley and his Men, prepar'd in some filthy Order for War. Mur. Come my Hearts of flint, modestly, decently, soberly, and handsomly; no Man afore his Leader: Follow your Master, your Captain, your Knight that shall be, for the honour of Meal-men, Millers, and Malt-men, Dun is the Mouse: Dick and Tom for the credit of Dunstable, ding down the Enemy to Morrow. Ye shall not come into the Field like Beggars. Where be Leonard and Lawrence my two Loaders? Lord have mercy upon us, what a World is this? I would give a couple of Shillings for a dozen of good Feathers for ye, and forty Pence for as many many Scarfs to set you out withal. Frost and Snow, a Man Dick. Master, we are no Babes, our Town Foot-Balls can bear witness; this little 'parrel we have shall off, and we'll fight naked before we run away. Tom. Nay, I'm of Lawrence mind for that, for he means to leave his Life behind him, he and Leonard, your two Loaders are making their Wills because they have Wives, now we Batchelors bid our Friends scramble for our Goods if we die: But Master, pray let me ride upon Cut. Mur. Meal and Salt, Wheat and Malt, Fire and Tow, Frost and Snow, why Tom thou shalt. Let me fee, here are you, William and George are with my Cart, and Robin and Hodge holding my own two Horses; proper Men, handfome Men, tall Men, true Men. Dick. But Master, Master, methinks you are mad to hazard your own Person, and a Cart-Load of Mony too. Tom. Yea, and Master there's a worse matter in't; if it be as I heard say, we go fight against all the learned Bishops, that should give us their blessing, and if they Curse us, we shall speed ne'er the better. Dick. Nay Birlady, fome say the King takes their part, and Master dare you fight against the King? Mur. Fie paltry, paltry, in and out, to and fro upon occafion, if the King be so unwise to come there, we'll fight with him too. Tom. What if ye should kill the King? Dick. Is that all? do ye not speak Treason ? Mur. If we do, who dare trip us? We come to fight for our Confcience, and for Honour; little know you what is in my Bosom, look here mad Knaves, a pair of gilt Spurs. Tom. A pair of Golden Spurs? Why do you not put them on your Heels? Your Bosom's no place for Spurs. Mur. Be't more or less upon occafion, Lord have mercy upon us, Tom thou'rt a Fool, and thou speak'st Treason to Knight-hood: Dare any wear Gold or Silver Spurs, 'till he be a Knight? No, I shall be Knighted to morrow, and |