Flor. Indeed!  Good friend, nevertheless I must see your master.  Bring me to him.

Will. I am going to the inn, where he awaits me.  Will it please you to meet me opposite the old barn in two hours?

Flor. I will, I will, for I need his advice much.  I am sore distressed.  Here is for thee.  Lose no time! [Gives him money.] Farewell! [Exit R.]

Will. By’r lady, angels! both of them. [Exit L.]

SCENE III.

An extensile landscape, with a road on the L; overhung with foliage.  A Country Inn, U.E.R.  Table, chairs, villagers sitting, a waiter bringing in refreshments during the symphony of the following

GLEE and CHORUS.

Cold, oh! cold the March winds be;
High up in a leafless tree
The little bird sits and wearily twits,
The woods with perjury: 
But the cuckoo-knave sings hold his stave,
(Ever the spring comes merrily)
And “O poor fool!” sings he—­
For this is the way in the world to live,
To mock when a friend hath no more to give,
Whether in hall or tree!

[The villagers retire severally.]

[Enter WILLIAM, L.]

Will. So this publican hath ceased to be a sinner!  To think now of old sophisticate Gurton being called Hezekiah Newborn.  Gadso, he babbles of salvation like the tap his boy left running this morning to see the troop of cavaliers go by.  Yet I marked the unregenerate Gurton swore round ere Newborn found his voice to upbraid sourly as becomes a saint.  He hath been more civil since I heard him.  O Newborn, how utterly shalt thou be damned!

[Enter HOST.]

Host. The Lord be with thee, young man.  It did seem to me that thou wert discoursing aloud in prayer.  Doth thy master desire any creature-comfort?

Will. Master Gurton! thy belly hath kept pace with thy righteousness.

Host. Ha!  Who told thee my carnal name?  I prithee abstain.  It doth remind me of the bonds of the flesh.

Will. Simply, thou art known to me.  I am William Nutbrown.

Host. Nay!  What, mine own friend Will, that had his bastard fathered on me?  Why, he was a youth!

Will. He was!  A youth of promise.  Behold the fulfilment in these legs, this manly bosom!

Host. O wonderful! and to think I knew thee not!  But thou art horribly, and as it were most monstrously improved?  Will Nutbrown! to be sure—­and whence comest thou?

Will. From the land of beccaficos, mine old Newborn! but thou understandest not—­thou hast merely observed the increase of local timber and the decay of pigeon-houses.  Thy sole chronicle hath been the ripe birth of undistinguishable curly-headed village children, and the green burial of undistinguished village bald old men hath been thine only lesson.  Thou hast simply acquired amazement at the actions of the man of experience.  Doth a quart measure still hold a quart?