MIL. Sweet life, farewell, 'tis done, let that suffice; What my tongue fails, I send thee by mine eyes. [_Exit._
_Enter_ FABEL,[296] YOUNG CLARE, _and_ JERNINGHAM.
JER. Now, visitor, how does this new-made nun?
Y. CLARE. Come, come, how does she, noble capuchin?
MOUN. She may be poor in spirit, but for the flesh,
'Tis fat and plump, boys. Ah! rogues, there is A company of girls would turn you all friars.
FAB. But how, Mounchensey, how, lad, for the wench?
MOUN. Zounds, lads, i'faith I thank my holy habit-- I have confess'd her, and the lady prioress Hath given me ghostly counsel with her blessing. And how say ye, boys, If I be chose the weekly visitor?
Y. CLARE. Blood! she'll have ne'er a nun unbagg'd to sing mass then.
JER. The Abbot of Waltham will have as many children to put to nurse as he has calves in the marsh.
MOUN. Well, to be brief, the nun will soon at night turn tippet;[297] if I can but devise to quit her cleanly of the nunnery, she is mine own.
FAB. But, sirrah Raymond, what news of Peter Fabel at the house?
MOUN. Tush, he is the only man, a necromancer and a conjuror, that works for young Mounchensey altogether; and if it be not for friar Benedic, that he can cross him by his learned skill, the wench is gone, Fabel will fetch her out by very magic.
FAB. Stands the wind there, boy? keep them in that key, The wench is ours before to-morrow day. Well, Harry[298] and Frank, as ye are gentlemen, Stick to us close this once; you know your fathers Have men and horse lie ready still at Cheston, To watch the coast be clear, to scout about, And have an eye unto Mounchensey's walks: Therefore you two may hover thereabouts, And no man will suspect you for the matter: Be ready but to take her at our hands, Leave us to scamble[299] for her getting out.
JER. Blood! if all Hertfordshire were at our heels, we'll carry her away in spite of them.
MOUN. To Brian's upper lodge in Enfield Chase; He is mine honest friend, and a tall keeper; I'll send my man unto him presently, To acquaint him with your coming and intent.
MOUN. Soon at night remember You bring your horses to the willow ground.
Y. CLARE. We will not fail the hour: My life and fortune now lie in your power.
FAB. About our business! Raymond, let's away, Think of your hour: it draws well off the day. [_Exeunt._