_Erms._ And I, my lord, will have pioners to undermine the town, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walks. _Miles._ And I, with _scientia_ And great _diligentia_, Will conjure and charm, To keep you from harm; That _utrum horum mavis_, Your very great _navis_, Like Barclay's ship,[204] From Oxford do skip With colleges and schools, Full-loaden with fools. _Quid dicis ad hoc,_ Worshipful _Domine_ Dawcock?[205] _Clem._ Why, hare-brain'd courtiers, are you drunk or mad, To taunt us up with such scurrility? Deem you us men of base and light esteem, To bring us such a fop for Henry's son?-- Call out the beadles and convey them hence Straight to Bocardo:[206] let the roisters lie Close clapt in bolts, until their wits be tame. _Erms._ Why, shall we to prison, my lord? _Ralph._ What sayest, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my presence? _Miles._ No, no: out with your blades, And hamper these jades; Have a flurt and a crash, Now play revel-dash, And teach these sacerdos That the Bocardos, Like peasants and elves, Are meet for themselves. _Mason._ To the prison with them, constable. _War._ Well, doctors, seeing I have sported me With laughing at these mad and merry wags, Know that Prince Edward is at Brazen-nose, And this, attirèd like the Prince of Wales, Is Ralph, King Henry's only lovèd fool; I, Earl of Sussex, and this Ermsby, One of the privy-chamber to the king; Who, while the prince with Friar Bacon stays, Have revell'd it in Oxford as you see. _Mason._ My lord, pardon us, we knew not what you were: But courtiers may make greater scapes than these. Wilt please your honour dine with me to-day? _War._ I will, Master doctor, and satisfy the vintner for his hurt; only I must desire you to imagine him all this forenoon the Prince of Wales. _Mason._ I will, sir. _Ralph._ And upon that I will lead the way; only I will have Miles go before me, because I have heard Henry say that wisdom must go before majesty. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE THIRD SCENE I.--_At Fressingfield._ _Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD _with his poniard in his hand,_ LACY _and_ MARGARET. _P. Edw._ Lacy, thou canst not shroud thy traitorous thoughts, Nor cover, as did Cassius, all thy wiles; For Edward hath an eye that looks as far As Lyncæus from the shores of Græcia. Did I not sit in Oxford by the friar, And see thee court the maid of Fressingfield, Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kiss? Did not proud Bungay draw his portace forth, And joining hand in hand had married you, If Friar Bacon had not struck him dumb, And mounted him upon a spirit's back, That we might chat at Oxford with the friar? Traitor, what answer'st? is not all this true?