Peace, fool! let Ralph alone.—Hark you, Ralph; do
not strain yourself too much at the first.—Peace!—Begin, Ralph.]
Ralph.
[Reads.] Then Palmerin and Trineus, snatching their
lances from their dwarfs, and clasping their helmets,
galloped amain after the giant; and Palmerin, having
gotten a sight of him, came posting amain, saying,
“Stay, traitorous thief! for thou mayst not so carry
away her, that is worth the greatest lord in the world;”
and, with these words, gave him a blow on the shoulder,
that he struck him besides his elephant. And Trineus,
coming to the knight that had Agricola behind him, set
him soon besides his horse, with his neck broken in the
fall; so that the princess, getting out of the throng, between
joy and grief, said, “All happy knight, the mirror of all
such as follow arms, now may I be well assured of the
love thou bearest me.” I wonder why the kings do not
raise an army of fourteen or fifteen hundred thousand
men, as big as the army that the Prince of Portigo
brought against Rosicleer, and destroy these giants;
they do much hurt to wandering damsels, that go in
quest of their knights.
[Wife.
Faith, husband, and Ralph says true; for they say
the King of Portugal cannot sit at his meat, but the
giants and the ettins will come and snatch it from him.
Citizen.
Hold thy tongue.—On, Ralph!]
Ralph.
And certainly those knights are much to be
commended, who, neglecting their possessions, wander with
a squire and a dwarf through the deserts to relieve poor
ladies.
[Wife.
Ay, by my faith, are they, Ralph; let 'em say what
they will, they are indeed. Our knights neglect their
possessions well enough, but they do not the rest.]
Ralph.
There are no such courteous and fair well-spoken
knights in this age: they will call one “the son of a
whore,” that Palmerin of England would have called
“fair sir;” and one that Rosicleer would have called
“right beauteous damsel,” they will call “damned
bitch.”
[Wife.
I'll be sworn will they, Ralph; they have called me
so an hundred times about a scurvy pipe of tobacco.]
Ralph.
But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his
shop, with a flappet of wood, and a blue apron before
him, selling mithridatum and dragon's-water to visited
houses, that might pursue feats of arms, and, through
his noble achievements, procure such a famous history
to be written of his heroic prowess?
[Citizen.
Well said, Ralph; some more of those words, Ralph!
Wife.
They go finely, by my troth.]
Ralph.
Why should not I, then, pursue this course, both
for the credit of myself and our company? for amongst
all the worthy books of achievements, I do not call to
mind that I yet read of a grocer-errant. I will be the
said knight.—Have you heard of any that hath
wandered unfurnished of his squire and dwarf? My elder
prentice Tim shall be my trusty squire, and little George
my dwarf. Hence, my blue apron! Yet, in
remembrance of my former trade, upon my shield shall be
portrayed a Burning Pestle, and I will be called the
Knight of the Burning Pestle.
[Wife.
Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old trade;
thou wert ever meek.]
Ralph.
Tim!
Tim.
Anon.
Ralph.
My beloved squire, and George my dwarf, I charge
you that from henceforth you never call me by any
other name but “the right courteous and valiant Knight
of the Burning Pestle;” and that you never call any
female by the name of a woman or wench, but “fair
lady,” if she have her desires, if not, “distressed
damsel;” that you call all forests and heaths “deserts,”
and all horses “palfreys.”
[Wife.
This is very fine, faith.—Do the gentleman like
Ralph, think you, husband?
Citizen.
Ay, I warrant thee; the players would give all the shoes
in their shop for him.]
Ralph.
My beloved squire Tim, stand out. Admit this were
a desert, and over it a knight-errant pricking, and I
should bid you inquire of his intents, what would you
say?
Tim.
Sir, my master sent me to know whither you are
riding?
Ralph.
No, thus: “Fair Sir, the right courteous and valiant
Knight of the Burning Pestle commanded me to inquire
upon what adventure you are bound, whether, to relieve
some distressed damsel, or otherwise.”
[Citizen.
Whoreson blockhead, cannot remember!
Wife.
I'faith, and Ralph told him on't before: all the
gentlemen heard him.—Did he not, gentlemen? did not
Ralph tell him on't?]
George.
Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning
Pestle, here is a distressed damsel to have a halfpenny-worth
of pepper.
[Wife.
That's a good boy! see, the little boy can hit it; by
my troth, it's a fine child.]
Ralph.
Relieve her, with all courteous language. Now shut
up shop; no more my prentices, but my trusty squire
and dwarf. I must bespeak my shield and arming
pestle.
[Exeunt Tim and George.
[Citizen.
Go thy ways, Ralph! As I'm a true man, thou art the
best on 'em all.