SCENE IV.--_The Regent House at Oxford.

_Enter_ BURDEN, MASON, _and_ CLEMENT.

_Mason._ Now that we are gathered in the Regent House, It fits us talk about the king's repair; For he, troop'd with all the western kings, That lie along'st the Dantzic seas by east, North by the clime of frosty Germany, The Almain monarch and the Saxon duke, Castile and lovely Elinor with him, Have in their jests resolv'd for Oxford town.

_Burd._ We must lay plots of stately tragedies, Strange comic shows, such as proud Roscius Vaunted before the Roman Emperors, To welcome all the western potentates.

_Clem._ But more; the king by letters hath foretold That Frederick, the Almain emperor, Hath brought with him a German of esteem, Whose surname is Don Jaques Vandermast, Skilful in magic and those secret arts.

_Mason._ Then must we all make suit unto the friar, To Friar Bacon, that he vouch this task, And undertake to countervail in skill The German; else there's none in Oxford can Match and dispute with learnèd Vandermast.

_Burd._ Bacon, if he will hold the German play, Will teach him what an English friar can do: The devil, I think, dare not dispute with him.

_Clem._ Indeed, Mas doctor, he [dis]pleasur'd you, In that he brought your hostess, with her spit, From Henley, posting unto Brazen-nose.

_Burd._ A vengeance on the friar for his pains! But leaving that, let's hie to Bacon straight, To see if he will take this task in hand.

_Clem._ Stay, what rumour is this? the town is up in a mutiny: what hurly-burly is this?

_Enter a_ Constable, _with_ RALPH SIMNELL, WARREN, ERMSBY, _still disguised as before, and_ MILES.

_Cons._ Nay, masters, if you were ne'er so good, you shall before the doctors to answer your misdemeanour.

_Burd._ What's the matter, fellow?

_Cons._ Marry, sir, here's a company of rufflers,[200] that, drinking in the tavern, have made a great brawl, and almost killed the vintner.

_Miles. Salve_, Doctor Burden![201] This lubberly lurden, Ill-shap'd and ill-fac'd, Disdain'd and disgrac'd, What he tells unto _vobis_ _Mentitur de nobis._

_Burd._ Who is the master and chief of this crew?

_Miles. Ecce asinum mundi_ _Figura rotundi,_ Neat, sheat, and fine, As brisk as a cup of wine.

_Burd._ [_to_ RALPH]. What are you?

_Ralph._ I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the bell-wether of this company: these are my lords, and I the Prince of Wales.

_Clem._ Are you Edward, the king's son?

_Ralph._ Sirrah Miles, bring hither the tapster that drew the wine, and, I warrant, when they see how soundly I have broke his head, they'll say 'twas done by no less man than a prince.

_Mason._ I cannot believe that this is the Prince of Wales.

_War._ And why so, sir?

_Mason._ For they say the prince is a brave and a wise gentleman.

_War._ Why, and think'st thou, doctor, that he is not so? Dar'st thou detract and derogate from him, Being so lovely and so brave a youth?

_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.

_Mason._ My lord, pardon us, we knew not what you were: But courtiers may make greater scapes than these. Wilt please your honour dine with me to-day?

_War._ I will, Master doctor, and satisfy the vintner for his hurt; only I must desire you to imagine him all this forenoon the Prince of Wales.

_Mason._ I will, sir.

_Ralph._ And upon that I will lead the way; only I will have Miles go before me, because I have heard Henry say that wisdom must go before majesty. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD