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SCENE II.

The Tap-Room of the Bull Dog Tavern, in Whitefriars. A table with men drinking ale, in various eccentric and ruffian-like dresses. At the top, Hildebrod, monstrously fat, with a red nose, and but one eye; dressed in a plum-coloured jerkin, much worn and stained, and unbuttoned at the paunch. On his left, Peppercole, and on his right, Shelter, with rusty gown, band torn, and wig awry. Next to Peppercole, Trapbois, in a thread bare hood of kersey, drawn over his head and buttoned about his neck. Hildebrod, with the chorus, singing as the curtain rises.
Hildebrod and chorus.
Old Sir Simon the king,
Old Sir Simon the king,
With his malmsey nose,
And his ale dropp'd hose,
And sing, hey, ding-a-dong, ding!

During the ditty, enter Skourlie, introducing Nigel, who averts his face as much as possible from the stare of the company. Skourlie makes a sign to Nigel

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not to advance until the close of the song, which Hildebrod carries to a conclusion, scrutinizing Nigel narrowly with his single eye.

Hild.
(After the song.)
So ho! a foreigner!
(To Pep. and Shelter)
Sword and gown, make way.

The form at bottom there,—'twill hold you both.
(To Skourlie)
What cully bring you?


(He confers aside with Skourlie.)
Peppercole goes sulkily to a form at the bottom of the table, and sits down on it, with his back to the audience.
Pep.
Shall the militant
Make way for smock-faced Tyro?

Shelter.
(Following him.)
Dost thou grumble,
When learned coif is thus unseemly shoved
Out of his bench?

Hild.
Silence, rebellious peers!
Take off your hat, sir. (To Nigel.)
You're in the Duke's presence,

The Duke, sir, of Alsatia; which high title
Graces unworthy me.

Pep.
Now, by my whiskers,
'Tis Nigel!

(Peppercole, with a significant look, steals out.)
Hild.
Whoso seeks th'immunities
Of our Whitefriars (hight, in loftier phrase
Alsatia) must propound to us his name,
Degree, and cause of seeking sanctuary.

Skour.
Or, so your statute wills, pay double garnish.

Shelter.
That is the law.


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Skour.
Which this good gentleman
Will do in Rhenish.

All.
Noble gentleman!
Most gen'rous gallant!

Hild.
Bring our ducal archives!
(To the Drawer.)
Tapster! the Rhenish.

(To Trapbois.)
For a lodging, Trap,

Thine may accommodate our novice.

Trap.
Aye,
For a consideration.

The Tapster brings in the Rhenish, which is drunk greedily.
Hild.
Come, that stave then,
Alsatia's installation chaunt. Strike up.

Hildebrod beckons to Nigel, and they converse apart during the following

GLEE.
From the touch of the tip,
From the blight of the warrant,
From the watchmen who skip
On the Harman-beck's errand;
From the bailiff's cramp speech,
Which makes a man thrall,
I charm thee from each,
And I charm thee from all.

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Chorus.
For, by spiggot and barrel,
By bilbo and buff,
Thou art sworn to the quarrel
Of the blades of the huff.
For Whitefriars and its claims
To be champion or martyr,
To fight for its dames,
Like a knight of the garter,—
To live by thy shifts,
And to swear by thine honor,
Are the freedom and gifts,
Of which I am the donor.
Chorus.
To be cheated, and cheat,
To be cuff'd and to cuff:
So thy freedom's complete
As a blade of the huff.

By the conclusion of the chaunt, the rundlet of rhenish has been emptied, and all the Alsatians, except Trapbois, march off in file, repeating the last four lines of the chorus, and huzzaing to Nigel as they pass him. Nigel goes off with Trapbois and Skourlie at the opposite door.