The True and Honorable History of the Life of Sir John Oldcastle, the Good Lord Cobham.
Page: 18


DOLL.
Come, be quiet. Hast thou sped?

WROTHAM.
I have, wench: here be crowns, yfaith.

DOLL.
Come, let's be all friends then.

CONSTABLE.
Well said, mistress Dorothy, yfaith.

HARPOOLE.
Thou art the maddest priest that ever I met with.

WROTHAM.
Give me thy hand, thou art as good a fellow. I am a
singer, a drinker, a bencher, a wencher! I can say a
mass, and kiss a lass! Faith, I have a parsonage, and
because I would not be at too much charges, this wench
serves me for a sexton.

HARPOOLE.
Well said, mad priest, we'll in and be friends.

[Exeunt.]


ACT II. SCENE II. London. A room in the Axe Inn,
without Bishop-gate.

[Enter sir Roger Acton, master Bourne, master Beverly,
and William Murley the brewer of Dunstable.]

ACTON.
Now, master Murley, I am well assured
You know our arrant, and do like the cause,
Being a man affected as we are.

MURLEY.
Mary, God dild ye, dainty my dear! no master, good sir
Roger Acton Knight, master Bourne, and master Beverly
esquires, gentlemen, and justices of the peace--no master I,
but plain William Murley, the brewer of Dunstable, your
honest neighbour, and your friend, if ye be men of my
profession.

BEVERLY.
Professed friends to Wickliffe, foes to Rome.

MURLEY.
Hold by me, lad; lean upon that staff, good master
Beverly: all of a house. Say your mind, say your mind.

ACTON.
You know our faction now is grown so great,
Throughout the realm, that it begins to smoke
Into the Clergy's eyes, and the King's ear.
High time it is that we were drawn to head,
Our general and officers appointed;
And wars, ye wot, will ask great store of coin.
Able to strength our action with your purse,
You are elected for a colonel
Over a regiment of fifteen bands.

MURLEY.
Fue, paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro! be it more or
less, upon occasion. Lord have mercy upon us, what a
world is this! Sir Roger Acton, I am but a Dunstable
man, a plain brewer, ye know: will lusty Cavaliering
captains, gentlemen, come at my calling, go at my
bidding? Dainty my dear, they'll do a god of wax, a
horse or cheese, a prick and a pudding. No, no, ye