Chapter XXXII: Act THE THIRD: SCENE I.--Before GRIME'S house in Bradford

_Enter_ GEORGE-A-GREENE'S _boy_ WILY, _disguised as a woman._

_Wily._ O, what is love! it is some mighty power,
Else could it never conquer George-a-Greene.
Here dwells a churl that keeps away his love:
I know the worst, an if I be espied,
'Tis but a beating; and if I by this means
Can get fair Bettris forth her father's door,
It is enough.
Venus, for me, of all the gods alone,
Be aiding to my wily enterprise! [_Knocks at the door._

_Enter_ GRIME _as from the house._

_Grime._ How now! who knocks there? what would you have?
From whence came you? where do you dwell?

_Wily._ I am, forsooth, a sempster's maid hard by,
That hath brought work home to your daughter.

_Grime._ Nay, are you not
Some crafty quean that comes from George-a-Greene,
That rascal, with some letters to my daughter?
I will have you search'd.

_Wily._ Alas, sir, it is Hebrew unto me,
To tell me of George-a-Greene or any other!
Search me, good sir, and if you find a letter
About me, let me have the punishment that's due.

_Grime._ Why are you muffled? I like you the worse for that.

_Wily._ I am not, sir, asham'd to show my face;
Yet loth I am my cheeks should take the air:
Not that I'm chary of my beauty's hue,
But that I'm troubled with the toothache sore.
[_Unmuffles._

_Grime._ [_aside_]. A pretty wench, of smiling countenance!
Old men can like, although they cannot love;
Ay, and love, though not so brief as young men can.--
Well, go in, my wench, and speak with my daughter.
[_Exit_ WILY _into the house._
I wonder much at the Earl of Kendal,
Being a mighty man, as still he is,
Yet for to be a traitor to his king,
Is more than God or man will well allow.
But what a fool am I to talk of him!
My mind is more here of the pretty lass.
Had she brought some forty pounds to town,
I could be content to make her my wife:
Yet I have heard it in a proverb said,
He that is old and marries with a lass,
Lies but at home, and proves himself an ass.

_Enter, from the house_, BETTRIS _in_ WILY'S _apparel._

How now, my wench! how is't? what, not a word?--
Alas, poor soul, the toothache plagues her sore.--
Well, my wench,
Here is an angel for to buy thee pins, [_Gives money._
And I pray thee use mine house;
The oftener, the more welcome: farewell. [_Exit._

_Bet._ O blessèd love, and blessèd fortune both!
But, Bettris, stand not here to talk of love,
But hie thee straight unto thy George-a-Greene:
Never went roebuck swifter on the downs
Than I will trip it till I see my George. [_Exit._

SCENE II.--_A Wood near Wakefield._

_Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL, LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, _and_ JENKIN.

_Ken._ Come away, Jenkin.

_Jen._ Come, here is his house. [_Knocks at the door._]--Where be you, ho?

_Geo._ [_within_]. Who knocks there?

_Ken._ Here are two or three poor men, father, would speak with you.

_Geo._ [_within_]. Pray, give your man leave to lead me forth.

_Ken._ Go, Jenkin, fetch him forth. [JENKIN _leads forth_ GEORGE-A-GREENE _disguised_.

_Jen._ Come, old man.

_Ken._ Father, here are three poor men come to question thee
A word in secret that concerns their lives.

_Geo._ Say on, my sons.

_Ken._ Father, I am sure you hear the news, how that
The Earl of Kendal wars against the king.
Now, father, we three are gentlemen by birth,
But younger brethren that want revenues,
And for the hope we have to be preferr'd,
If that we knew that we shall win,
We will march with him: if not,
We will not march a foot to London more.
Therefore, good father, tell us what shall happen,
Whether the king or the Earl of Kendal shall win.

_Geo._ The king, my son.

_Ken._ Art thou sure of that?

_Geo._ Ay, as sure as thou art Henry Momford,
The one Lord Bonfield, the other Sir Gilbert [Armstrong].

_Ken._ Why, this is wondrous, being blind of sight,
His deep perceiverance should be such to know us.

_Arm._ Magic is mighty and foretelleth great matters.--
Indeed, father, here is the earl come to see thee,
And therefore, good father, fable not with him.

_Geo._ Welcome is the earl to my poor cell,
And so are you, my lords; but let me counsel you
To leave these wars against your king, and live in quiet.

_Ken._ Father, we come not for advice in war,
But to know whether we shall win or leese.[308]

_Geo._ Lose, gentle lords, but not by good King Edward;
A baser man shall give you all the foil.

_Ken._ Ay, marry, father, what man is that?

_Geo._ Poor George-a-Greene, the Pinner.

_Ken._ What shall he?

_Geo._ Pull all your plumes, and sore dishonour you.

_Ken._ He! as how?

_Geo._ Nay, the end tries all; but so it will fall out.

_Ken._ But so it shall not, by my honour Christ.
I'll raise my camp, and fire Wakefield town,
And take that servile Pinner George-a-Greene,
And butcher him before King Edward's face.

_Geo._ Good my lord, be not offended,
For I speak no more than art reveals to me:
And for greater proof,
Give your man leave to fetch me my staff.

_Ken._ Jenkin, fetch him his walking-staff.

_Jen._ [_giving it_]. Here is your walking-staff.

_Geo._ I'll prove it good upon your carcases;
A wiser wizard never met you yet,
Nor one that better could foredoom your fall.
Now I have singled you here alone,
I care not though you be three to one.

_Ken._ Villain, hast thou betray'd us?

_Geo._ Momford, thou liest, ne'er was I traitor yet;
Only devis'd this guile to draw you on
For to be combatants.
Now conquer me, and then march on to London:
It shall go hard but I will hold you task.

_Arm._ Come, my lord, cheerly, I'll kill him hand to hand.

_Ken._ A thousand pound to him that strikes that stroke!

_Geo._ Then give it me, for I will have the first.
[_Here they fight_; GEORGE _kills_ SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, _and
takes the other two prisoners._

_Bon._ Stay, George, we do appeal.

_Geo._ To whom?

_Bon._ Why, to the king:
For rather had we bide what he appoints,
Then here be murder'd by a servile groom.

_Ken._ What wilt thou do with us?

_Geo._ Even as Lord Bonfield wish'd,
You shall unto the king: and, for that purpose,
See where the Justice is plac'd.

_Enter_ Justice.

_Jus._ Now, my Lord of Kendal, where be all your threats?
Even as the cause, so is the combat fallen,
Else one could never have conquer'd three.

_Ken._ I pray thee, Woodroffe, do not twit me;
If I have faulted, I must make amends.

_Geo._ Master Woodroffe, here is not a place for many words:
I beseech ye, sir, discharge all his soldiers,
That every man may go home unto his own house.

_Jus._ It shall be so. What wilt thou do, George?

_Geo._ Master Woodroffe, look to your charge;
Leave me to myself.

_Jus._ Come, my lords.
[_Exeunt all except_ GEORGE.

SCENE III.--_A Wood near Wakefield._

GEORGE-A-GREENE _discovered._[309]

_Geo._ Here sit thou, George, wearing a willow wreath,
As one despairing of thy beauteous love:
Fie, George! no more;
Pine not away for that which cannot be.
I cannot joy in any earthly bliss,
So long as I do want my Bettris.

_Enter_ JENKIN.

_Jen._ Who see a master of mine?

_Geo._ How now, sirrah! whither away?

_Jen,_ Whither away! why, who do you take me to be?

_Geo._ Why, Jenkin, my man.

_Jen._ I was so once indeed, but now the case is altered.

_Geo._ I pray thee, as how?

_Jen._ Were not you a fortune-teller to-day?

_Geo._ Well, what of that?

_Jen._ So sure am I become a juggler. What will you say if I juggle your sweetheart?

_Geo._ Peace, prating losel! her jealous father
Doth wait o'er her with such suspicious eyes,
That, if a man but dally by her feet,
He thinks it straight a witch to charm his daughter.

_Jen._ Well, what will you give me, if I bring her hither?

_Geo._ A suit of green, and twenty crowns besides.

_Jen._ Well, by your leave, give me room. You must give me something
that you have lately worn.

_Geo._ Here is a gown, will that serve you?
[_Gives gown._

_Jen._ Ay, this will serve me. Keep out of my circle, lest you be torn in pieces by she-devils.--Mistress Bettris, once, twice, thrice! [JENKIN _throws the gown in, and_ BETTRIS _comes out._[310] O, is this no cunning?

_Geo._ Is this my love, or is it but her shadow?

_Jen._ Ay, this is the shadow, but here is the substance.

_Geo._ Tell me, sweet love, what good fortune brought thee hither? For one it was that favour'd George-a-Greene.

_Bet._ Both love and fortune brought me to my George,
In whose sweet sight is all my heart's content.

_Geo._ Tell me, sweet love, how cam'st thou from thy father's?

_Bet._ A willing mind hath many slips in love:
It was not I, but Wily, thy sweet boy.

_Geo._ And where is Wily now?

_Bet._ In my apparel, in my chamber still.

_Geo._ Jenkin, come hither: go to Bradford,
And listen out your fellow Wily.--
Come, Bettris, let us in,
And in my cottage we will sit and talk.
[_Exeunt._