SIR RALPH. Sir Arthur, Sir Arthur, care go with those days! Let 'em even go together, let 'em go; 'Tis time, i' faith, that we were in our graves, When children leave obedience to their parents When there's no fear of God, no care, no duty. Well, well--nay, it shall not do, it shall not: No, Mounchensey, thou'lt hear on't, thou shalt, Thou shalt, i' faith; I'll hang thy son, If there be law in England. A man's child Ravish'd from a nunnery! This is rare! Well, there's one gone for friar Hildersham. SIR ARTH. Nay, gentle knight, do not vex thus, it will but hurt your heat. You cannot grieve more than I do; but to what end? But hark you, Sir Ralph, I was about to say something--it makes no matter. But hark you in your ear; the friar's a knave: but God forgive me, a man cannot tell, neither. 'Sfoot, I am so out of patience, I know not what to say. SIR RALPH. There's one went for the friar an hour ago. Comes he not yet? 'Sfoot, if I do find knavery under's cowl, I'll tickle him, I'll ferk him. Here, here, he's here, he's here. Good-morrow, friar; good-morrow, gentle friar. _Enter_ HILDERSHAM. SIR ARTH. Good-morrow, father Hildersham, good-morrow. HIL. Good-morrow, reverend knights, unto you both. SIR ARTH. Father, how now? You hear how matters go; I am undone, my child is cast away; You did your best, at least I think the best: But we are all cross'd; flatly, all is dash'd. HIL. Alas! good knights, how might the matter be? Let me understand your grief for charity. SIR ARTH. Who does not understand my grief? Alas! alas! And yet you do not: will the church permit A nun in approbation of her habit To be ravished? HIL. A holy woman, benedicite! Now God forfend,[307] that any should presume To touch the sister of a holy house. SIR ARTH. Jesus deliver me! SIR RALPH. Why, Millicent, the daughter of this knight, Is out of Cheston taken this last night. HIL. Was that fair maiden late become a nun? SIR RALPH. Was she, quoth a? Knavery, knavery, knavery, knavery; I smell it, I smell it. I' faith, is the wind in that door? Is it even so? Dost thou ask me that now? HIL. It is the first time that e'er I heard of it. SIR ARTH. That's very strange. SIR RALPH. Why, tell me, friar, tell me: thou art counted a holy man? Do not play the hypocrite with me, nor[308] bear with me: I cannot dissemble. Did I aught but by thy own consent, by thy allowance--nay, further, by thy warrant? HIL. Why, reverend knight-- SIR RALPH. Unreverend friar-- HIL. Nay, then give me leave, sir, to depart in quiet: I had hop'd you had sent for me to some other end.