Host. Thou shalt have it without any more discontinuance, releases, or atturnement.  What! we know our terms of hunting and the sea-card.

Bilbo. 
And do you serve the good duke of Norfolk still?

Host. Still, and still, and still, my souldier of S. Quintins:  come, follow me; I have Charles waine below in a but of sack, t’will glister like your Crab-fish.

Bilbo.  You have fine Scholler-like terms; your Coopers Dixionary is your only book to study in a celler, a man shall find very strange words in it.  Come, my host, let’s serve the good duke of Norfolk.

Host. And still, and still, and still, my boy, I’ll serve the good duke of Norfolk.

[Exeunt Host and Bilbo.]

[Enter Sir Arthur Clare, Harry Clare, and Milliscent.]

Jerningham. 
Good Sir Arthur Clare!

Clare. 
What Gentleman is that?  I know him not.

Mounchesney. 
Tis Master Fabell, Sir, a Cambridge scholler,
My son’s dear friend.

Clare. 
Sir, I intreat you know me.

Fabell. 
Command me, sir; I am affected to you
For your Mounchensey’s sake.

Clare. 
Alas, for him,
I not respect whether he sink or swim: 
A word in private, Sir Raph Jerningham.

Raymond. 
Me thinks your father looketh strangely on me: 
Say, love, why are you sad?

Milliscent. 
I am not, sweet;
Passion is strong, when woe with woe doth meet.

Clare. 
Shall’s in to breakfast? after we’ll conclude
The cause of this our coming:  in and feed,
And let that usher a more serious deed.

Milliscent. 
Whilst you desire his grief, my heart shall bleed.

Young Jerningham. 
Raymond Mounchesney, come, be frolick, friend,
This is the day thou hast expected long.

Raymond. 
Pray God, dear Jerningham, it prove so happy.

Jerningham. 
There’s nought can alter it.  Be merry, lad!

Fabell. 
There’s nought shall alter it.  Be lively, Raymond! 
Stand any opposition gainst thy hope,
Art shall confront it with her largest scope.

[Exeunt.]

Scene III.  The same.

[Peter Fabell, solus.]

Fabell. 
Good old Mounchensey, is thy hap so ill,
That for thy bounty and thy royall parts
Thy kind alliance should be held in scorn,
And after all these promises by Clare
Refuse to give his daughter to thy son,
Only because thy Revenues cannot reach
To make her dowage of so rich a jointure
As can the heir of wealthy Jerningham? 
And therefore is the false fox now in hand
To strike a match betwixt her and th’ other;
And the old gray-beards now are close together,
Plotting it in the garden.  Is’t even so?