_Erms._ Whose face, shining with many a sugar'd smile, Bewrays that he is bred of princely race.
_Miles._ And yet, master doctor, To speak like a proctor, And tell unto you What is veriment and true: To cease of this quarrel, Look but on his apparel; Then mark but my talis, He is great Prince of Walis, The chief of our _gregis,_ And _filius regis:_ Then 'ware what is done, For he is Henry's white[202] son.
_Ralph._ Doctors, whose doting night-caps are not capable of my ingenious dignity, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you displease, will make a ship that shall hold all your colleges, and so carry away the university with a fair wind to the Bankside in Southwark.--How sayest thou, Ned Warren, shall I not do it?
_War._ Yes, my good lord; and, if it please your lordship, I will gather up all your old pantofles,[203] and with the cork make you a pinnace of five hundred ton, that shall serve the turn marvellous well, my lord.
_Erms._ And I, my lord, will have pioners to undermine the town, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walks.
_Miles._ And I, with _scientia_ And great _diligentia_, Will conjure and charm, To keep you from harm; That _utrum horum mavis_, Your very great _navis_, Like Barclay's ship,[204] From Oxford do skip With colleges and schools, Full-loaden with fools. _Quid dicis ad hoc,_ Worshipful _Domine_ Dawcock?[205]
_Clem._ Why, hare-brain'd courtiers, are you drunk or mad, To taunt us up with such scurrility? Deem you us men of base and light esteem, To bring us such a fop for Henry's son?-- Call out the beadles and convey them hence Straight to Bocardo:[206] let the roisters lie Close clapt in bolts, until their wits be tame.
_Erms._ Why, shall we to prison, my lord?
_Ralph._ What sayest, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my presence?
_Miles._ No, no: out with your blades, And hamper these jades; Have a flurt and a crash, Now play revel-dash, And teach these sacerdos That the Bocardos, Like peasants and elves, Are meet for themselves.
_Mason._ To the prison with them, constable.
_War._ Well, doctors, seeing I have sported me With laughing at these mad and merry wags, Know that Prince Edward is at Brazen-nose, And this, attirèd like the Prince of Wales, Is Ralph, King Henry's only lovèd fool; I, Earl of Sussex, and this Ermsby, One of the privy-chamber to the king; Who, while the prince with Friar Bacon stays, Have revell'd it in Oxford as you see.