_Ors._ And winter coming on. Ah! _Eld._ True enough. _Ors._ A good fire. _Eld._ Yes, my love. _Ors._ A little mulled sack, if the night be wet. _Eld._ Indeed, my dear! And a hot posset for your cold, curdled with sweet wine. _Ors._ Humph! A little tart, I beg you, to give it spice. _Eld._ Well, our tastes won't quarrel. I know a wife's place. _Ors._ By my life, you do! O, 'tis a merry day! Would I were not a man of dignity now! [_Pats her_] _Eld._ Orson! _Ors._ I mean--O, come! 'Tis a merry day! Give us a song, mister soldier! _Ste._ I'll give you the devil! _Ors._ How, sir? You seem disturbed. Perhaps your reflections are not so happy as mine. It may be your mistress has not such an adoring and adorable eye--can not feast you with her cheeks--[_kisses Eldra_]--regale you with her lips--[_kisses her_] _Ste._ Scoundrel! Kiss my wife? [_Takes him by collar and throws him aside_] _Eld._ My Stephen! _Ste._ My Eldra! _Eld._ [_Running to his arms_] I knew it was you! _Ste._ I knew it was you! _Eld._ Why didn't you tell me? _Ste._ Why didn't you tell me? _Ors._ As a man of dignity now, I should like to ask why you didn't tell _me_! _Ste._ [_Dancing up and down stage with Eldra_] Ay, Orson, 'tis a merry day! Come, come! Here's a good ale for all. To you, Orson! [_Drinks_] And let the song go 'round! [_All sing_] Ho, Autumn time, O, Autumn time, When every wind is jolly, And pip and pear drop in their prime For tooth of fun and folly! When Hobnail's store is ripe for raids, And grapes go to the pressing, And apple checks are like a maid's When Jack would be a-kissing! Ho, hips and haws for vagabonds, With russets for who'll dare, And hazels by the meadow ponds, Brown-sweet for barefoot's fare! The pettychaps beflit the larch, The rocks from barn-top scold, And summer rogues are on the march For quarters 'gainst the cold. Ho, Autumn time, O, Autumn time! When every wind is jolly, And pip and pear drop in their prime For tooth of fun and folly! _Eld._ Hist! My lady is coming with her knight. _Ste._ What knight? Nobody should be coming here but the earl of Kent and my lord of Wynne. Come, lass, what knight? _Eld._ O, now it's out, you must be as mum as a dumb man's grave. My lady has a lover, and a sweet young knight he is, too, who rides out every week just for a peep at her. List! You can hear them now, just over the hedge. _Ste._ And the master doesn't know! By Heaven, the man's a villain, and I'm a traitor to my lord of Kent if I don't wring his neck! _Eld._ Stephen! Stephen! _Ors._ Hold, sir! _Ste._ Off with you! I'd drag him out an 'twere the king himself! [_Leaps through the hedge and pulls the king through_] God's mercy! I am dead! It is the king! [_All kneel to the king. Glaia comes through the hedge_] _Gla._ The king?