HARPOOLE. A plump girl by the mass, a plump girl! Ha, Doll, ha! Wilt thou forsake the priest, and go with me?
CONSTABLE. A! well said, Master Harpoole; you are a merry old man, yfaith. Yfaith, you will never be old. Now, by the mack, a pretty wench indeed!
HARPOOLE. Ye old mad merry Constable, art thou advised of that. Ha, well said, Doll! fill some ale here.
DOLL. [Aside.] Oh, if I wist this old priest would not stick to me, by Jove, I would ingle this old serving-man.
HARPOOLE. Oh you old mad colt! yfaith, I'll feak you! fill all the pots in the house there.
CONSTABLE. Oh, well said, Master Harpoole! you are heart of oak when all's done.
HARPOOLE. Ha, Doll, thou hast a sweet pair of lips, by the mass.
DOLL. Truly you are a most sweet old man, as ever I saw; by my troth, you have a face, able to make any woman in love with you.
HARPOOLE. Fill, sweet Doll; I'll drink to thee.
DOLL. 'I pledge you, sir, and thank you therefore, And I pray you let it come.'
HARPOOLE. [Embracing her.] Doll, canst thou love me? A mad merry lass! would to God I had never seen thee!
DOLL. I warrant you, you will not out of my thoughts this twelvemonth; truly you are as full of favour, as a man may be. Ah, these sweet grey locks! by my troth, they are most lovely.
CONSTABLE. God boores, master Harpoole, I will have one buss too.
HARPOOLE. No licking for you, Constable! hand off, hand off!
CONSTABLE. Bur lady, I love kissing as well as you.
DOLL. Oh, you are an odd boy; you have a wanton eye of your own! ah, you sweet sugar lipped wanton, you will win as many women's hearts as come in your company.
[Enter Priest.]
WROTHAM. Doll, come hither.
HARPOOLE. Priest, she shall not.
DOLL. I'll come anon, sweet love.
WROTHAM. Hand off, old fornicator.
HARPOOLE. Vicar, I'll sit here in spite of thee. Is this fit stuff for a priest to carry up and down with him?
WROTHAM. Ah, sirra, dost thou not know that a good fellow parson may have a chapel of ease, where his parish Church is far off?
HARPOOLE. You whoreson stoned Vicar!
WROTHAM. You old stale ruffin! you lion of Cotswold!
HARPOOLE. Swounds, Vicar, I'll geld you!
[Flies upon him.]
CONSTABLE. Keep the King's peace!
DOLL. Murder! murder! murder!
ALE MAN. Hold! as you are men, hold! for God's sake be quiet! Put up your weapons; you draw not in my house.
HARPOOLE. You whoreson bawdy priest!
WROTHAM. You old mutton monger!
CONSTABLE. Hold, sir John, hold!
DOLL. [To the Priest.] I pray thee, sweet hear, be quiet. I was but sitting to drink a pot of ale with him, even as kind a man as ever I met with.
HARPOOLE. Thou art a thief, I warrant thee.
WROTHAM. Then I am but as thou hast been in thy days. Let's not be ashamed of our trade; the King has been a thief himself.
DOLL. Come, be quiet. Hast thou sped?
WROTHAM. I have, wench: here be crowns, yfaith.
DOLL. Come, let's be all friends then.
CONSTABLE. Well said, mistress Dorothy, yfaith.
HARPOOLE. Thou art the maddest priest that ever I met with.
WROTHAM. Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow. I am a singer, a drinker, a bencher, a wencher! I can say a mass, and kiss a lass! Faith, I have a parsonage, and because I would not be at too much charges, this wench serves me for a sexton.
HARPOOLE. Well said, mad priest, we'll in and be friends.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II. SCENE II. London. A room in the Axe Inn, without Bishop-gate.
[Enter sir Roger Acton, master Bourne, master Beverly, and William Murley the brewer of Dunstable.]
ACTON. Now, master Murley, I am well assured You know our arrant, and do like the cause, Being a man affected as we are.
MURLEY. Mary, God dild ye, dainty my dear! no master, good sir Roger Acton Knight, master Bourne, and master Beverly esquires, gentlemen, and justices of the peace--no master I, but plain William Murley, the brewer of Dunstable, your honest neighbour, and your friend, if ye be men of my profession.