CHURMS.
Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a double fee to you, by the Lord.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone.
CHURMS.
Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her love--one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, _Si nihil attuleris_, &c.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
And wherein can I do you any good in this?
CHURMS.
Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has acquainted me with her love to him, and for Because her father much suspects the same, He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight.
I'll say, because she doth repose more trust Of secrecy in me than in another man, In courtesy she hath requested me To do her kindest greetings to her love.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
An excellent device, i' faith!
CHURMS.
Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less.
_Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere_.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this action?
CHURMS.
Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia myself.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly.
CHURMS.
Tut! he's out of the country; he follows the drum and the flag. He may chance to be killed with a double cannon before he come home again. But what's your device?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Marry, I'll do this: I'll frame an indictment against Sophos in manner and form of a rape, and the next law-day you shall prefer it, that so Lelia may loath him, her father still deadly hate him, and the young gallant her brother utterly forsake him.
CHURMS.
But how shall we prove it?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Zounds, we'll hire some strumpet or other to be sworn against him.
CHURMS.
Now, by the substance of my soul, 'tis an excellent device. Well, let's in. I'll first try my cunning otherwise, and if all fail, we'll try this conclusion.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT, NURSE, _and_ PEG.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Y'faith, Marget, you must e'en take your daughter Peg home again, for she'll not be ruled by me.
NURSE.
Why, mother, what will she not do?
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Faith, she neither did, nor does, nor will do anything. Send her to the market with eggs, she'll sell them, and spend the money. Send her to make a pudding, she'll put in no suet. She'll run out o' nights a-dancing, and come no more home till day-peep. Bid her come to bed, she'll come when she list. Ah, 'tis a nasty shame to see her bringing-up.
NURSE.
Out, you rogue! you arrant, &c. What, knowest not thy granam?
PEG.
I know her to be a testy old fool; She's never well, but grunting in a corner.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Nay, she'll camp, I warrant ye. O, she has a tongue! But, Marget, e'en take her home to your mistress, and there keep her, for I'll keep her no longer.
NURSE.
Mother, pray ye, take ye some pains with her, and keep her awhile longer, and if she do not mend, I'll beat her black and blue. I' faith, I'll not fail you, minion.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Faith, at thy request, I'll take her home, and try her a week longer.
NURSE.
Come on, huswife; please your granam, and be a good wench, and you shall ha' my blessing.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Come, follow us, good wench.
[_Exeunt_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ NURSE. _Manet_ PEG.
PEG.
Ay, farewell; fair weather after you. Your blessing, quotha? I'll not give a single halfpenny for't. Who would live under a mother's nose and a granam's tongue? A maid cannot love, or catch a lip-clip or a lap-clap, but here's such tittle-tattle, and _Do not so_, and _Be not so light_, and _Be not so fond_, and _Do not kiss_, and _Do not love_, and I cannot tell what; and I must love, an I hang for't.
[_She sings_.
_A sweet thing is love, That rules both heart and mind: There is no comfort in the world To women that are kind_.
Well. I'll not stay with her; stay, quotha? To be yawled and jawled at, and tumbled and thumbled, and tossed and turned, as I am by an old hag, I will not: no, I will not, i' faith.
_Enter_ WILL CRICKET.
But stay, I must put on my smirking looks and smiling countenance, for here comes one makes 'bomination suit to be my sprused husband.
WILL CRICKET.
Lord, that my heart would serve me to speak to her, now she talks of her sprused husband! Well, I'll set a good face on't. Now I'll clap me as close to her as Jone's buttocks of a close-stool, and come over her with my rolling, rattling, rumbling eloquence. Sweet Peg, honey Peg, fine Peg, dainty Peg, brave Peg, kind Peg, comely Peg; my nutting, my sweeting, my love, my dove, my honey, my bunny, my duck, my dear, and my darling:
Grace me with thy pleasant eyes, And love without delay; And cast not with thy crabbed looks A proper man away.