[Enter the Sumner.]
SUMNER.
I have the law to warrant what I do; and though the
Lord Cobham be a noble man, that dispenses not
with law: I dare serve process were a five noble men.
Though we Sumners make sometimes a mad slip in a
corner with a pretty wench, a Sumner must not go always
by seeing: a man may be content to hide his eyes, where
he may feel his profit. Well, this is my Lord Cobham's
house if I can devise to speak with him; if not, I'll clap
my citation upon's door: so my lord of Rochester bid
me. But me thinks here comes one of his men.
[Enter Harpoole.]
HARPOOLE.
Welcome, good fellow, welcome; who wouldst thou
speak with?
SUMNER.
With my lord Cobham I would speak, if thou be one of
his men.
HARPOOLE.
Yes, I am one of his men, but thou canst not speak with
my lord.
SUMNER.
May I send to him then?
HARPOOLE.
I'll tell thee that, when I know thy errand.
SUMNER.
I will not tell my errand to thee.
HARPOOLE.
Then keep it to thy self, and walk like a knave as thou
camest.
SUMNER.
I tell thee, my lord keeps no knaves, sirra.
HARPOOLE.
Then thou servest him not, I believe: what lord is thy
master?
SUMNER
My lord of Rochester.
HARPOOLE.
In good time! And what wouldst thou have with my
lord Cobham?
SUMNER.
I come, by virtue of a process, to ascite him to appear
before my lord in the court at Rochester.
HARPOOLE.
[Aside.] Well, God grant me patience! I could eat this
conger. My lord is not at home; therefore it were good,
Sumner, you carried your process back.
SUMNER.
Why, if he will not be spoken withal, then will I leave
it here; and see you that he take knowledge of it.
HARPOOLE.
Swounds, you slave, do you set up your bills here! go to;
take it down again. Doest thou know what thou dost?
Dost thou know on whom thou servest process?
SUMNER.
Yes, marry, do I; Sir John Old-castle, Lord Cobham.
HARPOOLE.
I am glad thou knowest him yet: and, sirra, dost not thou
know, that the lord Cobham is a brave lord, that keeps
good beef and beer in his house, and every day feeds a
hundred poor people at's gate, and keeps a hundred tall
fellows?
SUMNER.
What's that to my process?
HARPOOLE.
Marry, this, sir! is this process parchment?
SUMNER.
Yes, marry.
HARPOOLE.
And this seal wax?
SUMNER.
It is so.
HARPOOLE.
If this be parchment, this wax, eat you this
parchment and this wax, or I will make parchment
of your skin, and beat your brains into wax: Sirra
Sumner, dispatch; devour, sirra, devour.
SUMNER.
I am my lord of Rochester's Sumner; I came to do
my office, and thou shalt answer it.
HARPOOLE.
Sirra, no railing, but betake you to your teeth. Thou
shalt eat no worse than thou bringst with thee: thou
bringst it for my lord, and wilt thou bring my lord
worse than thou wilt eat thy self?
SUMNER.
Sirra, I brought it not my lord to eat.
HARPOOLE.
O, do you sir me now? all's one for that: but I'll make
you eat it, for bringing it.
SUMNER.
I cannot eat it.
HARPOOLE.
Can you not? sblood I'll beat you until you have a
stomach.
[He beats him.]
SUMNER.
O hold, hold, good master serving-man! I will eat it.
HARPOOLE.
Be champing, be chawing, sir; or I'll chaw you, you
rogue! the purest of the honey! Tough wax is the
purest of the honey.
SUMNER.
O Lord, sir! oh! oh!
[He eats.]
HARPOOLE.
Feed, feed! wholesome, rogue, wholesome! Cannot you,
like an honest Sumner, walk with the devil your brother,
to fetch in your Bailiffs' rents, but you must come to a
noble man's house with process? Sblood! if thy seal were
as broad as the lead that covers Rochester church, thou
shouldst eat it.
SUMNER.
O, I am almost choked! I am almost choked!
HARPOOLE.
Who's within there? will you shame my Lord? is there
no beer in the house? Butler! I say.
[Enter Butler.]
BUTLER.
Here, here.
HARPOOLE.
Give him Beer.
[He drinks.]
There; tough old sheepskin's bare, dry meat.
SUMNER.
O sir, let me go no further; I'll eat my word.
HARPOOLE.
Yea, marry, sit! so I mean: you shall eat more than your
own word, for I'll make you eat all the words in the process.
Why, you drab monger, cannot the secrets of all the wenches
in a shire serve your turn, but you must come hither with a
citation? with a pox! I'll cite you. [He has then done.] A
cup of sack for the Sumner.
BUTLER.
Here, sir, here.
HARPOOLE.
Here, slave, I drink to thee.
SUMNER.
I thank you, sir.
HARPOOLE.
Now if thou findst thy stomach well--because thou shalt
see my Lord keep's meat in's house--if thou wilt go in,
thou shalt have a piece of beef to the break fast.
SUMNER.
No, I am very well, good Master serving-man, I thank
you; very well sir.
HARPOOLE.
I am glad on't. Then be walking towards Rochester to keep
your stomach warm; and Sumner, if I may know you disturb
a good wench within this Diocese; if I do not make thee eat
her petticoat, if there were four yards of Kentish cloth in't,
I am a villain.
SUMNER.
God be with you, Master serving-man.
[Exit.]
HARPOOLE.
Farewell, Sumner.
[Enter Constable.]
CONSTABLE.
God save you Master Harpoole.
HARPOOLE.
Welcome, Constable, welcome, Constable; what news with thee?
CONSTABLE.
And't please you, Master Harpoole, I am to make hue and cry,
for a fellow with one eye that has robbed two Clothiers, and am
to crave your hindrance, for to search all suspected places; and
they say there was a woman in the company.
HARPOOLE.
Hast thou been at the Alehouse? hast thou sought there?
CONSTABLE.
I durst not search, sir, in my Lord Cobham's liberty, except I
had some of his servants, which are for my warrant.
HARPOOLE.
An honest Constable! an honest Constable! Call forth him
that keeps the Alehouse here.
CONSTABLE.
Ho! who's within there?
[Enter Ale-man.]
ALE MAN.
Who calls there? come near a God's name! Oh, is't you,
Master Constable and Master Harpoole? you are welcome
with all my heart. What make you here so early this morning?
HARPOOLE.
Sirra, what strangers do you lodge? there is a robbery done
this morning, and we are to search for all suspected persons.
ALE MAN.
God's bores! I am sorry for't: yfaith, sir, I lodge no body but
a good honest merry priest,--they call him sir John a Wrotham--
and a handsome woman that is his niece, that he says he has
some suit in law for; and as they go up down to London,
sometimes they lie at my house.
HARPOOLE.
What, is he here in thy house now?
ALE MAN.
She is, sir. I promise you, sir, he is a quiet man; and because
he will not trouble too many rooms, he makes the woman lie
every night at his bed's feet.
HARPOOLE.
Bring her forth! Constable, bring her forth! let's see her, let's
see her.
ALE MAN.
Dorothy, you must come down to Master Constable.
DOLL.
Anon, forsooth.
[She enters.]
HARPOOLE.
Welcome, sweet lass, welcome.
DOLL.
I thank you, good Master serving-man, and master
Constable also.
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.]
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