Ay, here's my hand; I do consent, And think her happy in her happy choice; Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv'd.
But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend Thy constant mind thou bear'st unto thy friend: The after-ages, wond'ring at the same, Shall say 't's a deed deserveth lasting fame.
FORTUNATUS.
Then rest you here, till I return again; I'll go to Sophos, ere I go along, And bring him here to keep you company.
Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts, Of planets' course, or secret magic spells, To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid, Whose craft so cunningly convey'd her hence.
[_Exit_ FORTUNATUS.
GRIPE.
Ay, here I'll rest an hour or twain, Till Fortunatus do return again.
WILL CRICKET.
Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding.
GRIPE.
Why, what was your case?
WILL CRICKET.
Marry, sir, my case was a goose's case; for my dog wearied[163] my neighbour's sow, and the sow died.
NURSE.
And he sued you upon wilful murder?
WILL CRICKET.
No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his sow, or hang my dog. Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went.
NURSE.
To beg a pardon for your dog?
WILL CRICKET.
No; but to have some of his wit for my money. I gave him his fee, and promised him a goose beside for his counsel. Now, sir, his counsel was to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I knew the case was plain. So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer.
NURSE.
And so the case was yours, and the goose was his: and so it came to be a goose's case.
WILL CRICKET.
True: but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam Midnight comes.
_Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ PEG.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be married to-morrow: let's go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all things in readiness.
PEG.
Why, granam, look where he is.
WILL CRICKET.
Ha, my sweet tralilly: I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred honest men. A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go. Ha, my sweet and too sweet: shall I say the tother sweet?
PEG.
Ay, say it and spare not.
WILL CRICKET.
Nay, I will not say it: I will sing it.
_Thou art mine own sweetheart, From thee I'll never depart; Thou art my Ciperlillie, And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly: And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, And do the tother thing: And when 'tis done, not miss To give my wench a kiss: And then dance_, Canst thou not hit it?
_Ho, brave William Cricket_!
How like you this, granam?
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Marry, God's benison light o' thy good heart for't. Ha, that I were young again! i' faith, I was an old doer at these love-songs when I was a girl.
NURSE.
Now, by the Mary matins, Peg, thou hast got the merriest wooer in all womanshire.
PEG.
Faith, I am none of those that love nothing but _tum, dum, diddle_. If he had not been a merry shaver, I would never have had him.
WILL CRICKET.
But come, my nimble lass, Let all these matters pass, And in a bouncing bravation, Let's talk of our copulation.
What good cheer shall we have to-morrow? Old grandsire Thickskin, you that sit there as melancholy as a mantle-tree, what will you give us toward this merry meeting?
GRIPE.
Marry, because you told me a merry goose case, I'll bestow a fat goose on ye, and God give you good luck.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Marry, well-said, old master: e'en God give them joy indeed; for, by my vay, they are a good, sweet young couple.
WILL CRICKET.
Granam, stand out o' the way; for here come gentlefolk will run o'er you else.
_Enter_ FORTUNATUS, SOPHOS, _and_ LELIA.
NURSE.
Master, here comes your son again.
GRIPE.
Is Fortunatus there? Welcome, Fortunatus: Where's Sophos?
FORTUNATUS.
Here Sophos is, as much o'erworn with love, As you with grief for loss of Lelia.
SOPHOS.
And ten times more, if it be possible: The love of Lelia is to me more dear, Than is a kingdom or the richest crown That e'er adorn'd the temples of a king.
GRIPE.
Thou welcome, Sophos--thrice more welcome now, Than any man on earth--to me or mine: It is not now with me as late it was; I low'r'd at learning, and at virtue spurn'd: But now my heart and mind, and all, is turn'd.