The True and Honorable History of the Life of Sir John Oldcastle, the Good Lord Cobham.
Page: 55

[Enter the Carrier and Kate in lord Cobham and ladies apparel.]

CONSTABLE.
Who comes here?

CLUB.
Who comes here? a plague found ome! you bawl, quoth a!
ods hat, I'll forzwear your house: you lodged a fellow and
his wife by that ha run away with our parrel, and left us such
gew-gaws here!--Come Kate, come to me, thowse dizeard,
yfaith.

MAYOR.
Mine host, know you this man?

HOST.
Yes, master Mayor, I'll give my word for him. Why, neighbor
Club, how comes this gear about?

KATE.
Now, a fowl ont, I can not make this gew-gaw stand on my
head: now the lads and the lasses won flout me too too--

CONSTABLE.
How came this man and woman thus attired?

HOST.
Here came a man and woman hither this last night, which I did
take for substantial people, and lodged all in one chamber by
these folks, me thinks, have been so bold to change apparel,
and gone away this morning ere they rose.

MAYOR.
That was that villain traitor, Old-castle, that thus escaped us:
make out hue and cry yet after him, keep fast that traitorous
rebel, his servant, there: farewell, mine host.

CARRIER.
Come, Kate Owdham, thou and Ise trimly dizard.

[Exeunt.]


ACT V. SCENE VIII. A wood near St. Albans.

[Enter sir John Old-castle, and his Lady disguised.]

COBHAM.
Come, Madam, happily escaped; here let us sit.
This place is far remote from any path,
And here awhile our weary limbs may rest,
To take refreshing, free from the pursuit
Of envious Rochester.

LADY COBHAM.
But where, my Lord,
Shall we find rest for our disquiet minds?
There dwell untamed thoughts that hardly stop,
To such abasement of disdained rags.
We were not wont to travel thus by night,
Especially on foot.

COBHAM.
No matter, love;
Extremities admit no better choice,
And were it not for thee, say froward time
Imposed a greater task, I would esteem it
As lightly as the wind that blows upon us;
But in thy sufference I am doubly tasked.
Thou wast not wont to have the earth thy stool,
Nor the moist dewy grass thy pillow, nor
Thy chamber to be the wide horizon.

LADY COBHAM.
How can it seem a trouble, having you