[Enter Murley and his men, prepared in some filthy
order for war.]
MURLEY.
Come, my hearts of flint, modestly, decently, soberly,
and handsomely, no man afore his Leader; follow your
master, your Captain, your Knight that shall be, for the
honor of Meal-men, Millers, and Malt-men. Dunne 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 Laurence, 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 scarfs
to set ye out withal. Frost and snow! a man has no heart
to fight till he be brave.
DICK.
Master, I hope we be no babes. For our manhood, our
bucklers and our town foot-balls can bear witness: and
this light parrel we have shall off, and we'll fight naked
afore we run away.
TOM.
Nay, I am of Laurence 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 Bachelors bid our friends scramble for our
goods if we die: but, master, pray ye, let me ride upon
Cutte.
MURLEY.
Meal and salt, wheat and malt, fire and tow, frost and
snow! why, Tom, thou shalt. Let me see: here are you,
William and George are with my cart, and Robin and
Hodge holding my own two horses: proper men, handsome
men, tall men, true men.
DICK.
But, master, master, me thinks you are a mad man to hazard
your own person and a cart load of money too.
TOM.
Yea, and, master, there's a worse matter in't. If it be as I
heard say, we go to 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, bir lady, some say the King takes their part; and, master,
dare you fight against the King?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro, upon occasion; if
the King be so unwise to come there, we'll fight with him too.
TOM.
What, if ye should kill the King?
MURLEY.
Then we'll make another.
DICK.
Is that all? do ye not speak treason?
MURLEY.
If we do, who dare trip us? we come to fight for our conscience,
and for honor. 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.
MURLEY.
Be't more or less upon occasion, Lord have mercy upon us,
Tom, th'art a fool, and thou speakest treason to knighthood.
Dare any wear golden or silver spurs till he be a knight? No,
I shall be knighted to morrow, and then they shall on. Sirs,
was it ever read in the church book of Dunstable, that ever
malt man was made knight?
TOM.
No, but you are more: you are meal-man, maltman, miller,
corn-master and all.
DICK.
Yea, and half a brewer too, and the devil and all for wealth.
You bring more money with you, than all the rest.
MURLEY.
The more's my honor. I shall be a knight to morrow! Let
me spose my men: Tom upon cut, Dick upon hob, Hodge
upon Ball, Raph upon Sorell, and Robin upon the forehorse.
[Enter Acton, Bourne, and Beverly.]
TOM.
Stand, who comes there?
ACTON.
All friends, good fellow.
MURLEY.
Friends and fellows, indeed, sir Roger.
ACTON.
Why, thus you shew your self a Gentleman,
To keep your day, and come so well prepared.
Your cart stands yonder, guarded by your men,
Who tell me it is loaden with coin.
What sum is there?
MURLEY.
Ten thousand pound, sir Roger: and modestly,
decently, soberly, and handsomely, see what I
have here against I be knighted.
ACTON.
Gilt spurs? tis well.
MURLEY.
But where's your army, sir?
ACTON.
Dispersed in sundry villages about:
Some here with us in Highgate, some at Finchley,
Totnam, Enfield, Edmunton, Newington,
Islington, Hogsdon, Pancredge, Kensington;
Some nearer Thames, Ratcliffe, Blackwall and Bow;
But our chief strength must be the Londoners,
Which, ere the Sun to morrow shine,
Will be near fifty thousand in the field.
MURLEY.
Mary, God dild ye, dainty my dear! but upon occasion,
sir Roger Acton, doth not the King know of it, and
gather his power against us?
ACTON.
No, he's secure at Eltham.
MURLEY.
What do the Clergy?
ACTON.
Fear extremely, yet prepare no force.
MURLEY.
In and out, to and fro, Bully my boikin, we shall carry
the world afore us! I vow by my worship, when I am
knighted, we'll take the King napping, if he stand on
their part.
ACTON.
This night we few in Highgate will repose.
With the first cock we'll rise and arm our selves,
To be in Ficket field by break of day,
And there expect our General.
MURLEY.
Sir John Old-castle? what if he come not?
BOURNE.
Yet our action stands.
Sir Roger Acton may supply his place.
MURLEY.
True, Master Bourne, but who shall make me knight?
BEVERLY.
He that hath power to be our General.
ACTON.
Talk not of trifles; come, let's away.
Our friends of London long till it be day.
[Exeunt.]
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