_Lacy._ Why speak'st not, Bungay? Friar to thy book. [BUNGAY _is mute, crying_ "Hud, hud." _Mar._ How look'st thou, friar, as a man distraught? Reft of thy senses, Bungay? show by signs If thou be dumb, what passion holdeth thee. _Lacy._ He's dumb indeed. Bacon hath with his devils Enchanted him, or else some strange disease Or apoplexy hath possess'd his lungs: But, Peggy, what he cannot with his book We'll 'twixt us both unite it up in heart. _Mar._ Else let me die, my lord, a miscreant. _P. Edw._ Why stands Friar Bungay so amaz'd? _Bacon._ I have struck him dumb, my lord; and, if your honour please I'll fetch this Bungay straightway from Fressingfield, And he shall dine with us in Oxford here. _P. Edw._ Bacon, do that, and thou contentest me. _Lacy._ Of courtesy, Margaret, let us lead the friar Unto thy father's lodge, to comfort him With broths, to bring him from this hapless trance. _Mar._ Or else, my lord, we were passing unkind To leave the friar so in his distress. _Enter a_ Devil, _who carries off_ BUNGAY _on his back._ O, help, my lord! a devil, a devil, my lord! Look how he carries Bungay on his back! Let's hence, for Bacon's spirits be abroad. [_Exit with_ LACY. _P. Edw._ Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friar Mounted upon the devil, and how the earl Flees with his bonny lass for fear. As soon as Bungay is at Brazen-nose, And I have chatted with the merry friar, I will in post hie me to Fressingfield, And quite these wrongs on Lacy ere't be long. _Bacon._ So be it, my lord: but let us to our dinner; For ere we have taken our repast awhile, We shall have Bungay brought to Brazen-nose. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV.--_The Regent House at Oxford._ _Enter_ BURDEN, MASON, _and_ CLEMENT. _Mason._ Now that we are gathered in the Regent House, It fits us talk about the king's repair; For he, troop'd with all the western kings, That lie along'st the Dantzic seas by east, North by the clime of frosty Germany, The Almain monarch and the Saxon duke, Castile and lovely Elinor with him, Have in their jests resolv'd for Oxford town. _Burd._ We must lay plots of stately tragedies, Strange comic shows, such as proud Roscius Vaunted before the Roman Emperors, To welcome all the western potentates. _Clem._ But more; the king by letters hath foretold That Frederick, the Almain emperor, Hath brought with him a German of esteem, Whose surname is Don Jaques Vandermast, Skilful in magic and those secret arts. _Mason._ Then must we all make suit unto the friar, To Friar Bacon, that he vouch this task, And undertake to countervail in skill The German; else there's none in Oxford can Match and dispute with learnèd Vandermast.