_Mar._ O, pardon, sir, I call to mind the man: 'Twere little manners to refuse his gift, And yet I hope he sends it not for love; For we have little leisure to debate of that.
_Joan._ What, Margaret! blush not: maids must have their loves.
_Thom._ Nay, by the mass, she looks pale as if she were angry.
_Rich._ Sirrah, are you of Beccles? I pray, how doth Goodman Cob? my father bought a horse of him.--I'll tell you, Margaret, 'a were good to be a gentleman's jade, for of all things the foul hilding could not abide a dung-cart.
_Mar._ [_aside_]. How different is this farmer from the rest, That erst as yet have pleas'd my wandering sight! His words are witty, quicken'd with a smile, His courtesy gentle, smelling of the court; Facile and debonair in all his deeds; Proportion'd as was Paris, when, in grey, He courted Œnon in the vale by Troy. Great lords have come and pleaded for my love: Who but the Keeper's lass of Fressingfield? And yet methinks this farmer's jolly son Passeth the proudest that hath pleas'd mine eye. But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in love, And show as yet no sign of love to him, Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy love: Keep that to thee till time doth serve thy turn, To show the grief wherein thy heart doth burn.-- Come, Joan and Thomas, shall we to the fair?-- You, Beccles man, will not forsake us now?
_Lacy._ Not whilst I may have such quaint girls as you.
_Mar._ Well, if you chance to come by Fressingfield, Make but a step into the Keeper's lodge; And such poor fare as woodmen can afford, Butter and cheese, cream and fat venison, You shall have store, and welcome therewithal.
_Lacy._ Gramercies, Peggy; look for me ere long. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ KING HENRY THE THIRD, _the_ EMPEROR OF GERMANY, _the_ KING OF CASTILE, ELINOR, _and_ VANDERMAST.
_K. Hen._ Great men of Europe, monarchs of the West, Ring'd with the walls of old Oceanus, Whose lofty surge is like the battlements That compass'd high-built Babel in with towers,-- Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave western kings, To England's shore, whose promontory-cleeves Show Albion is another little world; Welcome says English Henry to you all; Chiefly unto the lovely Elinor, Who dar'd for Edward's sake cut through the seas, And venture as Agenor's damsel through the deep, To get the love of Henry's wanton son.