BANKS. I' faith, thou art always drunk when we have need of thee.
SMUG. Need of me! heart! you shall have need of me always, while there is iron in an anvil.
BANKS. Master Parson, may the smith go (think you), being in this taking?
SMUG. Go! I'll go, in spite of all the bells in Waltham.
SIR JOHN. The question is good, neighbour Banks--let me see: the moon shines to-night,--there's not a narrow bridge betwixt this and the forest,--his brain may be settled ere night: he may go, he may go, neighbour Banks. Now we want none but the company of mine host Blague, of the George at Waltham: if he were here, our consort were full. Look where comes my good host, the Duke of Norfolk's man! And how? and how? Ahem! grass and hay! we are not yet mortal; let us live till we die, and be merry; and there's an end.
HOST. Ha! my Castilian dialogues; and art thou in breath still, boy? Miller, doth the match hold? Smith, I see by thy eyes thou hast been reading a little Geneva print: but wend[272] we merrily to the forest, to steal some of the king's deer? I'll meet you at the time appointed. Away, I have knights and colonels at my house, and must tend the Hungarians.[273] If we be scared in the forest, we'll meet in the church-porch at Enfield: is't correspondent?
BANKS. 'Tis well; but how, if any of us should be taken?
HOST. Tush, the knave keepers are my bona socias[274] and my pensioners. Nine o'clock! Be valiant, my little Gogmagogs; I'll fence with all the justices in Hertfordshire. I'll have a buck, till I die; I'll slay a doe, while I live. Hold your bow straight and steady: I serve the good Duke of Norfolk.
SIR JOHN. Peace, neighbour Smug. You see this boor, a boor of the country, an illiterate boor, and yet the citizen of good-fellows. Come, let's provide: ahem! grass and hay! we are not yet all mortal; we'll live till we die, and be merry; and there's an end. Come, Smug.
SMUG. Good night, Waltham--who-ho-ho, boy! [_Exeunt._
_Enter the Knights and Gentlemen from breakfast again._
O. MOUN. Nor I for thee, Clare, not of this: What! hast thou fed me all this while with shalls[275] And com'st to tell me now, thou lik'st it not?
CLARE. I do not hold thy offer competent: Nor do I like the assurance of thy land, The title is so brangled with thy debts.