The History of Sir John Oldcastle (Folio 3, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter the Sumner.
¶Sum. I have the Law to warrant what I do, and though
540Law, I dare serve a Process were he five Noble men,
¶ner with a pretty wench, a Sumner must not go alwaies
¶by seeing: a man may be content to hide his eyes where
¶he may feel his profit. Well, this is Lord Cobham's house,
545if I cannot speak with him, I'le clap my citation upon's
¶here comes one of his men.
¶thou speak with?
¶be one of his men.
¶speak with my Lord.
555Har. I'le tell thee that, when I know thy errand,
¶Sum. I will not tell my errand to thee.
¶as thou camest.
¶Lord is thy Master?
¶with my Lord Cobham?
¶appear before my Lord in the Court at Rochester.
¶Har. aside. Well, God grant me patience, I could eat
¶this Counger. My Lord is not at home, therefore it
¶were good Sumner, you carried your Process back.
¶I leave it here, and see that he take knowledge of it.
¶go too, take it down again. Do'st thou know what thou
¶Cobham.
¶do'st not know that the Lord Cobham is a brave Lord,
¶that keeps good Beef and Beer in his house, and every
580day feeds a hundred poor people at's Gate, and keeps a
¶hundred tall fellows?
¶Sum. What's that to my Process?
¶Sum. Yes marry is it.
585Har. And this Seal wax?
¶Har. If this be parchment, and this wax, eat you this
¶parchment and this wax, or I will make parchment of
¶your skin, and beat your brains into wax. Sirrah, Sumner,
595thou bring'st it for my Lord, and wilt thou bring my
¶Sum. Sir, I brought it not my Lord to eat.
¶make you eat it, for bringing it.
600Sum. I cannot eat it.
¶a stomack.
Beats him.
¶Sum. O hold, hold, good M. Servingman, I will eat it.
605you rogue, the purest of the honey.
¶Cannot you like an honest Sumner, walk with the Devil
610your brother, to fetch in your Bailiff's rents; but you
¶Seal were as broad as the Lead that covers Rochester
¶your own word, for I'le make you eat all the words in the
¶Process. Why you drab-monger, cannot the secrets of all
625hither with a citation with a pox? I'le cite you.
¶A cup of Sack for the Sumner.
¶Sum. No I am very well, good M. Servingman, I
¶thank you, very well, sir.
635Har. I am glad on't, then be walking towards Roche-
¶I do not make thee eat her petticoat, if there were four
¶yards of Kentish cloth in't, I am a villain.
¶Con. Save you, M. Harpool.
¶news with thee?
¶and cry for a fellow with one eye, that has rob'd two
¶Clothiers, and am to crave your hindrance to search all
¶company.
¶sought there?
655the Ale-house there.
¶Con. Ho, who's within there?
¶and M. Harpool? y'are welcome with all my heart, what
¶make you here so early this morning?
¶robbery done this morning, and we are to search for all
665a Wrotham, and a handsome woman that is his Neece,
670man, and because he will not trouble too many rooms, he
¶makes the woman lye every night at his beds feet.
680Doll?
¶man ifaith; you will never be old now by the mack, a
¶pretty wench indeed.
¶to me, by Jove I would ingle this old serving-man.
¶Har. Oh you old mad colt, ifaith I'le ferk you: fill
¶all the pots in the house there.
¶when all's done.
695saw; by my troth, you have a face able to make any wo-
¶man in love with you.
¶I pray you let it come.
¶Dol. I warrant you, you will not out of my thoughts
¶this twelvemonth, truly you are as full of favour, as any
705they are most lovely.
¶Con. Cuds bores, M. Harpool, I'le have one buss too.
¶Dol. Oh you are an odde boy, you have a wanton eye
¶win as many womens hearts as come in your company.
¶
Enter Priest.
¶Priest. Doll, come hither.
¶Priest. Hand off, old fornicator.
¶for a Priest to carry up and down with him?
¶Church is far off?
725Con. Keep the Kings peace.
¶Dol. Murder, murder, murder.
¶quiet: put up your weapons, you draw not in my house.
730Priest. You old mutton-monger.
¶Con. Hold, Sir John, hold.
¶ting to drink a pot of Ale with him, even as kind a man
¶as ever I met with.
735Har. Thou art a Thief, I warrant thee.
¶let's not be ashamed of our Trade, the King has been a
¶Thief himself.
740Pri. I have wench, here be crowns ifaith.
¶Dol. Come, let's be all friends then.
¶Pri.Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow:
¶and because I would not be at too much charges, this
¶wench serveth me for a Sexton.
750
Exeunt.
