Ralph . Comes not sir squire again?

George . Right courteous knight,
Your squire doth come, and with him comes the lady,
For and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it.

Enter Tim, Mistress Merrythought, and Michael.

Ralph . Madam, if any service or devoir
Of a poor errant knight may right your wrongs,
Command it; I am prest to give you succour;
For to that holy end I bear my armour.

Mist. Mer . Alas, sir, I am a poor gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this forest!

Ralph . Desert, you would say, lady; and not lost
Whilst I have sword and lance. Dry up your tears,
Which ill befit the beauty of that face,
And tell the story, if I may request it,
Of your disastrous fortune.

Mist. Mer . Out, alas! I left a thousand pound, a thousand pound, e’en all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the sight of your mastership; you looked so grim, and, as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a giant than a mortal man.

Ralph . I am as you are, lady; so are they;
All mortal. But why weeps this gentle squire?

Mist. Mer . Has he not cause to weep, do you think, when he hath lost his inheritance?

Ralph . Young hope of valour, weep not; I am here
That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear
Upon his coward head, that dares deny
Distressèd squires and ladies equity.
I have but one horse, on which shall ride
This fair lady behind me, and before
This courteous squire: fortune will give us more
Upon our next adventure. Fairly speed
Beside us, squire and dwarf, to do us need!

[Exeunt .

[Cit . Did not I tell you, Nell, what your man would do? by the faith of my body, wench, for clean action and good delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife . And so they may, i’faith; for I dare speak it boldly, the twelve companies of London cannot match him, timber for timber. Well, George, an he be not inveigled by some of these paltry players, I ha’ much marvel: but, George, we ha’ done our parts, if the boy have any grace to be thankful.

Cit . Yes, I warrant thee, duckling.]

SCENE IV.— Another part of the Forest .

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum . Good Mistress Luce, however I in fault am
For your lame horse, you’re welcome unto Waltham;
But which way now to go, or what to say,
I know not truly, till it be broad day.

Luce . Oh, fear not, Master Humphrey; I am guide
For this place good enough.

Hum . Then, up and ride;
Or, if it please you, walk, for your repose,
Or sit, or, if you will, go pluck a rose;
Either of which shall be indifferent
To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent
Is so entangled ever to your will,
As the poor harmless horse is to the mill.

Luce . Faith, an you say the word, we’ll e’en sit down,
And take a nap.

Hum . ’Tis better in the town,
Where we may nap together; for, believe me,
To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.