SIR JOHN. If you do, I am as resolute as my neighbour-vicar of Waltham Abbey; ahem! grass and hay! we are all mortal; let's live till we be hanged, mine host, and be merry; and there's an end. _Enter_ FABEL.[315] FAB. Now, knights, I enter: now my part begins. To end this difference, know, at first I knew What you intended, ere your love took flight From old Mounchensey: you, Sir Arthur Clare, Were minded to have married this sweet beauty To young Frank Jerningham: to cross this match, I us'd some pretty sleights; but I protest Such as but sat upon the skirts of art: No conjurations, nor such weighty spells As tie the soul to their performancy. These for his love, who once was my dear pupil, Have I effected. Now (methinks) 'tis strange That you, being old in wisdom, should thus knit Your forehead on this match; since reason fails, No law can curb the lover's rash attempt; Years, in resisting this, are sadly spent. Smile then upon your daughter and kind son; And let our toil to future ages prove, The Devil of Edmonton did good in love. SIR ARTH. Well, 'tis in vain to cross thee, Providence: Dear son, I take thee up into my heart; Rise, daughter. MIL. This is a kind father's part. HOST. Why, Sir John.[316] send for Spindle's noise[317] presently: Ha! ere't be night, I'll serve the good Duke of Norfolk. SIR JOHN. Grass and hay! mine host, let's live till we die, and be merry; and there's an end. SIR ARTH. What, is breakfast ready, mine host? HOST. 'Tis, my little Hebrew. SIR ARTH. Sirrah! ride straight to Cheston nunnery, Fetch thence my lady; the house, I know, By this time misses their young votary. Come, knights, let's in. BIL. I will to horse presently, sir. A plague on my lady, I shall miss a good breakfast. Smug, how chance you cut so plaguely behind, Smug? SMUG. Stand away, I'll founder you else. BIL. Farewell, Smug, thou art in another element. SMUG. I will be by and by; I will be Saint George again. SIR ARTH. Take heed the fellow do not hurt himself. SIR RALPH. Did we not last night find two Saint Georges here? FAB. Yes, knights, this martialist was one of them. CLARE. Then thus conclude your night of merriment. [_Exeunt omnes._ FINIS. RAM-ALLEY OR MERRY TRICKS. _EDITIONS._ (1.) _Ram-Alley: Or Merrie Trickes. A Comedy Divers times here-to-fore acted by the Children of the Kings Reuels. Written by Lo: Barrey. At London Printed by G. Eld, for Robert Wilson, and are to be sold at his shop in Holborne, at the new yate of Grayes-Inne._ 1611. 4.