SCENE IV.--_Before_ SIR ARTHUR CLARINGTON’S _House_.

_Enter_ SIR ARTHUR CLARINGTON, WARBECK, _and_ SOMERTON.

_Sir Arth._ Come, gentlemen, we must all help to grace The nimble-footed youth of Edmonton, That are so kind to call us up to-day With an high morris.

_War._ I could wish it for the best, it were the worst now. Absurdity’s in my opinion ever the best dancer in a morris.

_Som._ I could rather sleep than see ’em.

_Sir Arth._ Not well, sir?

_Som._ ’Faith, not ever thus leaden: yet I know no cause for’t.

_War._ Now am I beyond mine own condition highly disposed to mirth.

_Sir Arth._ Well, you may have yet a morris to help both; To strike you in a dump, and make him merry.

_Enter_ SAWGUT _with the ~Morris-dancers~, &c._

_Saw._ Come, will you set yourselves in morris-ray?[444] the forebell, second-bell, tenor, and great-bell; Maid Marian[445] for the same bell. But where’s the weathercock now? the Hobby-horse?

[444] Array.

[445] Maid Marian was always a prominent figure in the morris-dance. Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, and other characters were also added according to the humour of the dancers.

_1st Cl._ Is not Banks come yet? What a spite ’tis!

_Sir Arth._ When set you forward, gentlemen?

_1st Cl._ We stay but for the Hobby-horse, sir; all our footmen are ready.

_Som._ ’Tis marvel your horse should be behind your foot.

_2nd Cl._ Yes, sir, he goes further about; we can come in at the wicket, but the broad gate must be opened for him.

_Enter_ CUDDY BANKS _with the Hobby-horse, followed by the ~Dog~._

_Sit Arth._ O, we stayed for you, sir.

_Cud._ Only my horse wanted a shoe, sir; but we shall make you amends ere we part.

_Sir Arth._ Ay? well said; make ’em drink ere they begin.

_Enter ~Servants~ with beer._

_Cud._ A bowl, I prithee, and a little for my horse; he’ll mount the better. Nay, give me: I must drink to him, he’ll not pledge else. [_Drinks._] Here, Hobby [_Holds the bowl to the Hobby-horse._]--I pray you: no? not drink! You see, gentlemen, we can but bring our horse to the water; he may choose whether he’ll drink or no. [_Drinks again._

_Som._ A good moral made plain by history.

_1st Cl._ Strike up, Father Sawgut, strike up.

_Saw._ E’en when you will, children. [CUDDY _mounts the Hobby_.]--Now in the name of--the best foot forward! [_Endeavours to play, but the fiddle gives no sound._]--How now! not a word in thy guts? I think, children, my instrument has caught cold on the sudden.

_Cud._ [_Aside._] My ningle’s knavery; black Tom’s doing.

_All the Clowns._ Why, what mean you, Father Sawgut?

_Cud._ Why, what would you have him do? you hear his fiddle is speechless.

_Saw._ I’ll lay mine ear to my instrument that my poor fiddle is bewitched. I played “The Flowers in May” e’en now, as sweet as a violet; now ’twill not go against the hair: you see I can make no more music than a beetle of a cow-turd.

_Cud._ Let me see, Father Sawgut [_Takes the fiddle_]; say once you had a brave hobby-horse that you were beholding to. I’ll play and dance too.--Ningle, away with it. [_Gives it to the ~Dog~, who plays the morris._

_All the Clowns._ Ay, marry, sir! [_They dance._

_Enter a ~Constable~ and ~Officers~._

_Con._ Away with jollity! ’tis too sad an hour.-- Sir Arthur Clarington, your own assistance, In the king’s name, I charge, for apprehension Of these two murderers, Warbeck and Somerton.

_Sir Arth._ Ha! flat murderers?

_Som._ Ha, ha, ha! this has awakened my melancholy.

_War._ And struck my mirth down flat.--Murderers?

_Con._ The accusation’s flat against you, gentlemen.-- Sir, you may be satisfied with this. [_Shows his warrant._]-- I hope you’ll quietly obey my power; ’Twill make your cause the fairer.

_Som. and War._ O, with all our hearts, sir.

_Cud._ There’s my rival taken up for hangman’s meat; Tom told me he was about a piece of villany.--Mates and morris-men, you see here’s no longer piping, no longer dancing; this news of murder has slain the morris. You that go the footway, fare ye well; I am for a gallop.--Come, ningle. [_Canters off with the Hobby-horse and the ~Dog~._

_Saw._ [_Strikes his fiddle, which sounds as before._] Ay? nay, an my fiddle be come to himself again, I care not. I think the devil has been abroad amongst us to-day; I’ll keep thee out of thy fit now, if I can. [_Exit with the ~Morris-dancers~._

_Sir Arth._ These things are full of horror, full of pity. But if this time be constant to the proof, The guilt of both these gentlemen I dare take On mine own danger; yet, howsoever, sir, Your power must be obeyed.

_War._ O, most willingly, sir. ’Tis a most sweet affliction; I could not meet A joy in the best shape with better will: Come, fear not, sir; nor judge nor evidence Can bind him o’er who’s freed by conscience.

_Som._ Mine stands so upright to the middle zone It takes no shadow to’t, it goes alone. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.