WILL CRICKET.
Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [_Aside_.
CHURMS.
Sir, I will do the best I can.
WILL CRICKET.
But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I can tell you, he loves her well.
GRIPE.
Nay, I trow.
WILL CRICKET.
Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in her closet.
GRIPE.
But I am sure she loves him not.
WILL CRICKET.
Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and 'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little logic and _Pitome colloquium_ they'll make a wench do anything.
Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a man as a wench can see in a summer's day.
GRIPE.
Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well.
He's a scholar, forsooth--one that hath more wit than money--and I like not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars without money?
PLOD-ALL.
Faith, e'en like puddings without suet.
GRIPE.
Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house presently.
[_Exit_ GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, _and_ CHURMS.
WILL CRICKET.
A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap (do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg.
Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow;
Whose eyes do shine, Like bacon-rine; Whose lips are blue, Of azure hue;
Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast.
_Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck?
WILL CRICKET.
Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber?
Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on him.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here?
WILL CRICKET.
A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master Churms the lawyer to-day?
WILL CRICKET.
No, sir; would you speak with him?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Ay, marry, would I.
WILL CRICKET.
If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him?
WILL CRICKET.
Marry, you, sir.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
I? who am I?
WILL CRICKET.
Faith, sir, I know not.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him.
WILL CRICKET.
O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms.
_Enter_ CHURMS.
CHURMS.
Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every alehouse in the town.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I see you.