Mist. Mer . Come, Michael; art thou not weary, boy?

Mich . No, forsooth, mother, not I.

Mist. Mer . Where be we now, child?

Mich . Indeed, forsooth, mother, I cannot tell, unless we be at Mile-End: Is not all the world Mile-End, mother?

Mist. Mer . No, Michael, not all the world, boy; but I can assure thee, Michael, Mile End is a goodly matter: there has been a pitchfield, my child, between the naughty Spaniels and the Englishmen; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and the Englishmen followed: my neighbour Coxstone was there, boy, and killed them all with a birding-piece.

Mich . Mother, forsooth——

Mist. Mer . What says my white boy?

Mich . Shall not my father go with us too?

Mist. Mer . No, Michael, let thy father go snick - up; he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again while he lives; let him stay at home, and sing for his supper, boy. Come, child, sit down, and I’ll show my boy fine knacks, indeed. [They sit down: and she takes out a casket .] Look here, Michael; here’s a ring, and here’s a brooch, and here’s a bracelet, and here’s two rings more, and here’s money and gold by th’eye, my boy.

Mich . Shall I have all this, mother?

Mist. Mer . Ay, Michael, thou shalt have all, Michael. [Cit . How likest thou this, wench?

Wife . I cannot tell; I would have Ralph, George; I’ll see no more else, indeed, la; and I pray you, let the youths understand so much by word of mouth; for, I tell you truly, I’m afraid o’ my boy. Come, come, George, let’s be merry and wise: the child’s a fatherless child; and say they should put him into a strait pair of gaskins, ’twere worse than knot-grass; he would never grow after it.]

Enter Ralph, Tim, and George. [Cit . Here’s Ralph, here’s Ralph!

Wife . How do you do, Ralph? you are welcome, Ralph, as I may say; it’s a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid; we are thy friends, Ralph; the gentlemen will praise thee, Ralph, if thou playest thy part with audacity. Begin, Ralph, a’ God’s name!]

Ralph . My trusty squire, unlace my helm: give me my hat. Where are we, or what desert may this be?

George . Mirror of knighthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous Waltham-down; in whose bottom stands the enchanted valley.

Mist. Mer . Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are betrayed! here be giants! Fly, boy! fly, boy, fly!

[Exit with Michael leaving the casket .

Ralph . Lace on my helm again. What noise is this?
A gentle lady, flying the embrace
Of some uncourteous knight! I will relieve her.
Go, squire, and say, the Knight, that wears this Pestle
In honour of all ladies, swears revenge
Upon that recreant coward that pursues her;
Go, comfort her, and that same gentle squire
That bears her company.