_Mist. Mer._ No _Michael_, not all the world boy; but I can assure thee _Michael_, _Mile-end_ is a goodly matter, there has been a pitcht field my child, between the naughty _Spaniels_, and the _Englishmen_, and the _Spaniels_ ran away _Michael_, and the _Englishmen_ followed: my neighbor _Coxstone_ was there boy, and kill'd them all with a birding-piece. _Mich._ Mother forsooth. _Mist. Mer._ What says my white boy? _Mich._ Shall not my Father go with us too? _Mist. Mer._ No _Michael_, let thy Father go snick up, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again, while he lives: let him stay at home and sing for his supper boy; come child sit down, and I'll shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look here _Michael_, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, and here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's Money, and Gold by th' eye my boy. _Mich._ Shall I have all this Mother? _Mist. Mer._ I _Michael_ thou shalt have all _Michael_. _Cit._ How lik'st thou this wench? _Wife._ I cannot tell, I would have _Ralph_, _George_; I'll see no more else indeed-law, and I pray you let the youths understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you truly, I'm afraid o' my boy: come, come _George_, let's be merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say they should put him into a strait pair of Gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it. _Enter_ Ralph, Squire, _and_ Dwarfe. _Cit._ Here's _Ralph_, here's _Ralph_. _Wife._ How do you _Ralph_? you are welcome _Ralph_, as I may say, it'[s] a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid, we are thy friends, _Ralph_, the Gentlemen will praise thee _Ralph_, if thou plai'st thy part with audacity, begin _Ralph_ a Gods name. _Ralph._ My trusty Squire unlace my Helme, give me my hat, where are we, or what desart might this be? _Dw._ Mirror of Knig[h]thood, this is, as I take it, the perilous _Waltham_ Down; in whose bottom stands the inchanted Valley. _Mist. Mer._ Oh _Michael_, we are betraid, we are betraid, here be Giants, flie boy, flie boy flie. [_Exeunt_ Mother _and_ Michael. _Ralph._ Lace on my Helme again: what noise is this? A gentle Lady flying the embrace Of some uncourteous Knight, I will relieve her. Go Squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle In honour of all Ladies swears revenge Upon that recreant Coward that pursues her, Goe comfort her, and that same gentle Squire That bears her company. _Squ._ I go brave Knight.