To Hell’s convocation, in unending dole, I summon this soul to its final fruition. The folly of men who in factions enroll And for some princeling get damned to perdition! They are ours! all ours, who in this condition Persist stubborn-hearted despite of all ill. Envious faction gives yearly addition To Hell of its millions, lament it who will. ¶ How Emma and Moonen journeyed to Antwerp, where they wrought much evil. When Emma and Moonen had for some while tarried at Bolduc they journeyed to Antwerp whither they be speedily come. And Moonen said unto Emma thus: Now be we in Antwerp, as ye well would, Here will we triumph and scatter our good. Go we in to the “Tree” for a pint of romany. EMMA To the “Tree”, say ye? MOONEN Yes, faith, there shall ye see All the spendthrifts that thrive by mischance; And the wenches who know well all the old dance, The which on ten and four hazard all at a throw. Above sit the burghers, and the craft below, With whom ’tis more blessed to take than to give. EMMA All that I would liefly behold, as I live. Nought could be better, as to my thinking. MOONEN Yea, in the Gold Room we shall be drinking Ere that we part what pleaseth you most. Sit down, love. Yea, a first, mine host! And if it grew musty in cask, we were evil paid. THE DRAWER What wine drink ye, good man? MOONEN A pint of grenade, And for my wife a pint of ypocras, And of romany a pint, the which nought doth surpass To raise a man’s spirits when they be low. THE DRAWER Ay, that’s the truth. A first! ho! a first! ho! Draw of the best and fill to the brim! FIRST TIPPLER See, Hans, yon is a wench that is trim. SECOND TIPPLER Ye say sooth, and but an ill-favored devil of a man! FIRST TIPPLER Let us sit by them and drink of our can. If she be but his doxy and not his wife We’ll filch her of him. SECOND TIPPLER Ay, he shall have a taste of the knife, For he is but a foul, ill-favored lout, But the wench is sweet flesh past all doubt. Be she his doxy, I know where this night I shall lie. Will aid me? FIRST TIPPLER In the throat, yea, that will I. Foot to foot we will stand fast as we may.— God a mercy, toper! MOONEN Pot-mates, come drink, I pray. SECOND TIPPLER Nay, toper, we drink of the same tun. But may we sit you beside? MOONEN Yea, surely, that were well done. Good fellowship is to me nothing loath. FIRST TIPPLER By your good leave, whence come ye both? MOONEN From Bolduc and beyond be we. EMMA