_Burd._ Bacon, if he will hold the German play, Will teach him what an English friar can do: The devil, I think, dare not dispute with him. _Clem._ Indeed, Mas doctor, he [dis]pleasur'd you, In that he brought your hostess, with her spit, From Henley, posting unto Brazen-nose. _Burd._ A vengeance on the friar for his pains! But leaving that, let's hie to Bacon straight, To see if he will take this task in hand. _Clem._ Stay, what rumour is this? the town is up in a mutiny: what hurly-burly is this? _Enter a_ Constable, _with_ RALPH SIMNELL, WARREN, ERMSBY, _still disguised as before, and_ MILES. _Cons._ Nay, masters, if you were ne'er so good, you shall before the doctors to answer your misdemeanour. _Burd._ What's the matter, fellow? _Cons._ Marry, sir, here's a company of rufflers,[200] that, drinking in the tavern, have made a great brawl, and almost killed the vintner. _Miles. Salve_, Doctor Burden![201] This lubberly lurden, Ill-shap'd and ill-fac'd, Disdain'd and disgrac'd, What he tells unto _vobis_ _Mentitur de nobis._ _Burd._ Who is the master and chief of this crew? _Miles. Ecce asinum mundi_ _Figura rotundi,_ Neat, sheat, and fine, As brisk as a cup of wine. _Burd._ [_to_ RALPH]. What are you? _Ralph._ I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the bell-wether of this company: these are my lords, and I the Prince of Wales. _Clem._ Are you Edward, the king's son? _Ralph._ Sirrah Miles, bring hither the tapster that drew the wine, and, I warrant, when they see how soundly I have broke his head, they'll say 'twas done by no less man than a prince. _Mason._ I cannot believe that this is the Prince of Wales. _War._ And why so, sir? _Mason._ For they say the prince is a brave and a wise gentleman. _War._ Why, and think'st thou, doctor, that he is not so? Dar'st thou detract and derogate from him, Being so lovely and so brave a youth? _Erms._ Whose face, shining with many a sugar'd smile, Bewrays that he is bred of princely race. _Miles._ And yet, master doctor, To speak like a proctor, And tell unto you What is veriment and true: To cease of this quarrel, Look but on his apparel; Then mark but my talis, He is great Prince of Walis, The chief of our _gregis,_ And _filius regis:_ Then 'ware what is done, For he is Henry's white[202] son. _Ralph._ Doctors, whose doting night-caps are not capable of my ingenious dignity, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you displease, will make a ship that shall hold all your colleges, and so carry away the university with a fair wind to the Bankside in Southwark.--How sayest thou, Ned Warren, shall I not do it? _War._ Yes, my good lord; and, if it please your lordship, I will gather up all your old pantofles,[203] and with the cork make you a pinnace of five hundred ton, that shall serve the turn marvellous well, my lord.