BIL. You have fine scholar-like terms: your Cooper's Dictionary[258] is your only book to study in a cellar, a man shall find very strange words in it. Come, my host, let's serve the good Duke of Norfolk. HOST. And still, and still, and still, my boy, I'll serve the good Duke of Norfolk. _Enter_ SIR ARTHUR CLARE, HARRY CLARE, _and_ MILLICENT.[259] SIR RALPH. Good Sir Arthur Clare! CLARE. What gentleman is that? I know him not. SIR RICH. 'Tis Master Fabel, sir, a Cambridge scholar, My son's dear friend. CLARE. Sir, I entreat you know me. FAB. Command me, sir, I am affected to you For your Mounchensey's sake. CLARE. Alas! for him, I not respect whether he sink or swim! [_Aside._ A word in private, Sir Ralph Jerningham. RAY. Methinks your father looketh strangely on me: Say, love, why are you sad? MIL. I am not, sweet; Passion is strong, when woe with woe doth meet. CLARE. Shall's in to breakfast? After, we'll conclude The cause of this our coming: in and feed, And let that usher a more serious deed. [_Exit._ MIL. Whilst you desire his grief, my heart shall bleed. [_Exit._ Y. CLARE. Raymond Mounchensey, come, be frolic, friend; This is the day thou hast expected long. RAY. Pray God, dear Harry Clare, it prove so happy! Y. CLARE. There's nought can alter it; be merry, lad. FAB. There's nought shall alter it; be lively, Raymond: Stand any opposition 'gainst thy hope, Art shall confront it with her largest scope. [_Exeunt, save_ FABEL. PETER FABEL _solus_.