In my sheltering arm; Do their work and their play in a mannerly way And go holding their nose, and tipped on their toes, If they pa.s.s through a street, that they'll not soil their feet.

_2nd Dowager Messenger_: And next to good manners and next to good looks ...

_Guardian_: I know what you'll say ...she asks news of the cooks; I'm with her in putting them equal to books; There's some rule by coaxing and some rule by beating, But my principle is, tempt them on with good eating.

When everything's said, isn't Sparta as dead As many a place never heard of black bread?

And as to a lad who a tartlet refuses,-- If Cato stewed parsnips he hated the Muses!

_1st Dowager Messenger_: And at meals are they taught to behave as they ought?

_Guardian_: You'll be well satisfied and the Queen will have pride, You will see every Prince use a fork with his mince, And eating his peas like Alcibiades, Who would sooner go mute than play on the flute Lest it made him grimace and contorted his face.

_1st Dowager Messenger_: Oh, all that you say delights us to-day!

We'll have good news to bring of these sons of a king.

_Servant_: Here they are now coming.

(_Wrenboys in Princes' clothes come in awkwardly_.)

_Guardian_: Now put out a chair.

Where these ladies may hear.

Come over, my boys ...(Now what is that noise?) Come here, take your places, and show us your faces, And say out your task as these ladies will ask.

I would wish them to know how you say _Parlez-vous_, And I'd like you to speak in original Greek And make numeration, and add up valuation; But to lead you with ease and on by degrees In case you are shy in the visitors' eye I will let you recite, as you easily might, The kings of that Island that no longer are silent But ask recognition and to take a position-- (Though if stories are true they ran about blue, While we in Hy-Brasil wore our silks to a frazzle--) So the rhymes you may say that I heard you to-day; And the opening will fall on the youngest of all.

_Servant:_ Let you stand up now and do as you are bid. _(Touches 5th Wrenboy_.)

_Guardian:_ Go on, my child, say out your lesson.

William the First as the Conqueror known....

_(Boy puts finger in mouth and hangs his head.)_ Ah, he is shy. Don't be affrighted, go on now; don't you remember it?

_5th Wrenboy:_ I do not.

_Guardian:_ Try it again now. You said it off quite well this morning.

_5th Wrenboy:_ It fails me.

_Guardian:_ Now I will give you a start: "William the First as the Conqueror known, At the Battle of Hastings ascended the throne ..." Say that now.

_5th Wrenboy: (Nudging 4th.)_ Let you word it.

_4th Wrenboy: (To Guardian.)_ Let you word it again, sir.

_Guardian_: "William the First as the Conqueror known."

_4th Wrenboy_: William the First as the congereel known....

_Guardian_: What is that? You would not do it to vex me! Gillie is maybe right. There is something strange.... (_To another_.) You may try now. Go on to the next verse. "William called Rufus from having red hair." ..._(He does not answer_.) Say it anyone who knows....

_3rd Wrenboy: (Putting up his hand_.) I know a man that has red hair!

_All the Wrenboys: (Cheerfully)_ So do I! So do I!

_2nd Wrenboy_: He lives in the wood beyond!

He is no way good! He is an Ogre, a Grugach....

_1st Wrenboy_: He can turn himself into the shape of a beast, or he can change his face at any time; sometimes he'll be that wicked you would think he was a wolf; he would skin you with his cat-o'-nine-tails!

_Guardian_: What gibberish are you talking?

_2nd Wrenboy_: He goes working underground to get gold!

_3rd Wrenboy_: It is minded by enchanted cats!

_4th Wrenboy_: They would tear in bits anyone that would find it!

_Guardian_: Now take care, lads, this is carrying a joke too far. I was wrong to begin with that silly history. Tell me out now the parts of speech.

"A noun's the name of anything As school or garden, hoop or swing."

_5th Wrenboy_: An owl's the name of anything....

_Guardian_: A _noun_.

_5th Wrenboy_: An _owl_.

_Guardian_: Don't pretend you don't know it.

_5th Wrenboy_: I do know it. I know an owl that sits in the cleft of the hollow sycamore and eats its fill of mice, till it can hardly put a stir out of itself.

_Guardian_: I do wish you would stop talking nonsense.

_1st Wrenboy_: It is not, but sense. It devoured ere yesterday a whole fleet of young rats.

_2nd Wrenboy_: It's as wise as King Solomon.

_Guardian_: Gillie was right. There is surely something gone wrong in their heads.

_2nd Wrenboy_: Go out yourself and you'll see are we wrong in the head! Inside in the old sycamore he is sitting through the daylight.

_1st Dowager Messenger_: There is something gone wrong in _somebody's_ head.

_2nd Dowager Messenger_: (_Tapping her forehead_.) The poor Guardian; he is too long past his youth.

It is well we came to look how things were going before it is too late.

_1st Dowager Messenger_: Ask them to say something they _do_ know.

_Guardian_: Here, you're good at arithmetic, say now your numbers.

_1st Wrenboy_: Twelve coppers make a shilling.