_Bet._ I care not for earl, nor yet for knight, Nor baron that is so bold; For George-a-Greene, the merry Pinner, He hath my heart in hold.[302] _Bon._ Bootless, my lord, are many vain replies: Let us hie us to Wakefield, and send her the Pinner's head. _Ken._ It shall be so.--Grime, gramercy, Shut up thy daughter, bridle her affects;[303] Let me not miss her when I make return; Therefore look to her, as to thy life, good Grime. _Grime._ I warrant you, my lord. _Ken._ And, Bettris, Leave a base Pinner, for to love an earl. [_Exeunt_ GRIME _and_ BETTRIS. Fain would I see this Pinner George-a-Greene. It shall be thus: Nick Mannering shall lead on the battle, And we three will go to Wakefield in some disguise: But howsoever, I'll have his head to-day. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE SECOND SCENE I.--_Before_ SIR JOHN-A-BARLEY'S _Castle_. _Enter_ JAMES, KING OF SCOTS, LORD HUMES, _with_ Soldiers, _and_ JOHN. _K. James._ Why, Johnny, then the Earl of Kendal is blithe, And hath brave men that troop along with him? _John._ Ay, marry, my liege, And hath good men that come along with him, And vows to meet you at Scrasblesea, God willing. _K. James._ If good Saint Andrew lend King Jamy leave, I will be with him at the 'pointed day. _Enter_ NED. But, soft!--Whose pretty boy art thou? _Ned._ Sir, I am son unto Sir John-a-Barley, Eldest, and all that e'er my mother had; Edward my name. _K. James._ And whither art thou going, pretty Ned? _Ned._ To seek some birds, and kill them, if I can: And now my schoolmaster is also gone, So have I liberty to ply my bow; For when he comes, I stir not from my book. _K. James._ Lord Humes, but mark the visage of this child: By him I guess the beauty of his mother; None but Leda could breed Helena.-- Tell me, Ned, who is within with thy mother? _Ned._ Naught but herself and household servants, sir: If you would speak with her, knock at this gate. _K. James._ Johnny, knock at that gate. [JOHN _knocks at the gate._ _Enter_ JANE-A-BARLEY _upon the walls._ _Jane._ O, I'm betray'd! What multitudes be these? _K. James._ Fear not, fair Jane, for all these men are mine, And all thy friends, if thou be friend to me: I am thy lover, James the King of Scots, That oft have su'd and woo'd with many letters, Painting my outward passions with my pen, Whenas my inward soul did bleed for woe. Little regard was given to my suit; But haply thy husband's presence wrought it: Therefore, sweet Jane, I fitted me to time, And, hearing that thy husband was from home, Am come to crave what long I have desir'd. _Ned._ Nay, soft you, sir! you get no entrance here, That seek to wrong Sir John-a-Barley so, And offer such dishonour to my mother. _K. James._ Why, what dishonour, Ned?