_Boy._ Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you shall hear them talk together: but we cannot present a house covered with black Velvet, and a Lady in beaten gold. _Cit._ Sir Boy, lets ha't as you can then. _Boy._ Besides, it will shew ill-favoredly to have a Grocers Prentice to court a Kings daughter. _Cit._ Will it so Sir? you are well read in Histories: I pray you what was Sir _Dagonet_? was not he Prentice to a Grocer in _London_? read the Play of the _Four Prentices of London_, where they toss their Pikes so: I pray you fetch him in Sir, fetch him in. _Boy._ It shall be done, it is not our fault Gentlemen. [_Exit._ _Wife._ Now we shall see fine doings I warrant thee _George_. O here they come; how prettily the King of _Cracovia_'s daughter is drest. _Enter_ Rafe _and the Lady, Squire and Dwarf_. _Cit._ I _Nell_, it is the fashion of that Countrey, I warrant thee. _Lady._ Welcome sir Knight unto my fathers Court. King of _Moldavia_, unto me _Pompiona_ His daughter dear: but sure you do not like Your entertainment, that will stay with us No longer but a night. _Raph._ Damsell right fair, I [a]m on many sad adventures bound, That call me forth into the Wilderness: Besides, my horses back is something gal'd, Which will enforce me ride a sober pace. But many thanks (fair Lady) be to you, For using errant Knight with courtesie. _Lady._ But say (brave Knight) what is your name and birth? _Rafe._ My name is _Rafe_, I am an Englishman, As true as steel, a hearty Englishman, And Prentice to a Grocer in the _Strand_, By deed indent, of which I have one part: But fortune calling me to follow Arms, On me this holy Order I did take, Of _burning Pestle_, which in all mens eyes, I bear, confounding Ladies enemies. _Lady._ Oft have I heard of your brave Countrymen, And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food; My father oft will tell me of a drink In _England_ found, and _Nipitato_ call'd, Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts. _Rafe._ Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips To better _Nipitato_ than there is. _Lady._ And of a wild-fowl he will often speak, Which poudred beef and mustard called is: For there have been great Wars 'twixt us and you, But truely _Rafe_, it was not long of me. Tell me then _Rafe_ could you contented be, To wear a Ladies favor in your shield? _Rafe._ I am a Knight of Religious Order, And will not wear a favor of a Ladies That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions. _Cit._ Well said _Rafe_, convert her if thou canst. _Rafe._ Besides, I have a Lady of my own In merry _England_; for whose virtuous sake I took these Arms, and _Susan_ is her name, A Coblers maid in Milkstreet, whom I vow Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last.