Act 5 — SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE.

What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, their eyes wax dim with expectation.

Enter one of the PLAYERS.

How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night?

PLAYER. Sir, you may look upon the title.

PROLOGUE. What, Spectrum once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight!

[Exit the PLAYER.

Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue.

Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, Wherein a man a history may read Of base conceits and damned roguery: The very sink of hell-bred villany.

Enter a JUGGLER.

JUGGLER. Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly conveyance, or deceptio visus? What will you see, gentleman, to drive you out of these dumps.

PROLOGUE. Out, you soused gurnet, you woolfist! Begone, I say, and bid the players despatch, and come away quickly; and tell their fiery poet that, before I have done with him I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calf's skin.

JUGGLER. O Lord, sir, ye are deceived in me, I am no tale-carrier; I am a juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences at my fingers' end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him over the thumbs with a trice; I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many tricks as there be motes in the sun.

PROLOGUE. Prythee, what tricks canst thou do?

JUGGLER. Marry, sir, I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance—Hei, fortuna furim nunquam credo—with a cast of clean conveyance. Come aloft, Jack, for thy master's advantage. He's gone, I warrant ye.

[SPECTRUM is conveyed away, and WILY BEGUILED stands in the place of it.

PROLOGUE.

Mass, and 'tis well done! Now I see thou canst do something. Hold thee; there is twelvepence for thy labour.

Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, He quite hath lost the title of his play; His calf-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd. Thus once you see, that Wily is beguil'd.

[Exit the JUGGLER.

Now, kind spectators, I dare boldly say, You all are welcome to our author's play: Be still awhile, and, ere we go, We'll make your eyes with laughter flow. Let Momus' mates judge how they list. We fear not what they babble; Nor any paltry poet's pen Amongst that rascal rabble. But time forbids me further speech, My tongue must stop her race; My time is come, I must be dumb, And give the actors place.

[Exit.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

GRIPE, an Usurer. PLOD-ALL, a Farmer. SOPHOS, a Scholar. CHURMS, a Lawyer. ROBIN GOODFELLOW. FORTUNATUS, Gripe's son. LELIA, Gripe's daughter. Nurse. PETER PLOD-ALL, Plod-all's son. PEG, Nurse's daughter. WILL CRICKET. MOTHER MIDNIGHT. An Old Man. SYLVANUS. Clerk.

WILY BEGUILED.[140]

Enter GRIPE, solus.

A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by sea and by land, and bid—Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the hundred. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two children in all the world to bestow my goods upon—Fortunatus, my son, and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all hard by has but one only son; and let me see—I take it, his lands are better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together—O, 'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much.

Enter CHURMS.

CHURMS. Good morrow, Master Gripe.

GRIPE. O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit?

CHURMS. Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal.

GRIPE. Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret.

CHURMS. O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you.

GRIPE. Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and him. What think you of it?

CHURMS. Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very simple bringing-up.

GRIPE. Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll please you for your pains.

CHURMS. I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially.

GRIPE. Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome.

CHURMS. Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [Exit GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [Exit.

Enter old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER, an OLD MAN, Plod-all's tenant, and WILL CRICKET, his son.

PLOD-ALL. Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must discharge you else.

OLD MAN. Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am very poor.

WILL CRICKET. Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same word very poor! Father, if you love your son William, never name that same word, very poor; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny to name very poor to a man that's o' the top of his marriage.

OLD MAN. Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe—

For she will so heel it, And toe it, and trip it;— O, her buttocks will quake like a custard.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Why, William, when were you with her?

WILL CRICKET. O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. Come, father, let's be gone.

[Exeunt WILL and his father.

PLOD-ALL. Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every cross, income and rent too.

Enter CHURMS with a letter.

But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll not pay.

CHURMS. Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them with a habeas corpus.

PLOD-ALL. Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please you. But what news abroad?

CHURMS. Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered.

PLOD-ALL. Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it.

[Exeunt PLOD-ALL and his son. Manet CHURMS.

CHURMS. Thus men of reach must look to live: I cry content, and murder where I kiss. Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend To every enterprise he takes in hand, As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: But damn me if they find it so. All this makes for my [own] avail; I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail.

Enter LELIA and NURSE, gathering of flowers.

LELIA. See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: A crown of roses shall adorn my head, I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time.

NURSE. Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; 'twould cool you.

LELIA. Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me.

NURSE. Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith.

LELIA. A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one.

NURSE. A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you.

LELIA. No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart?

NURSE. Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you.

LELIA. Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie.

NURSE. Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody.

Enter SOPHOS.

SOPHOS. Optatis non est spes ulla potiri. Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss Do turn the plains into a standing pool. Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: O, let the sacred centre of my heart— I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work— Be once again the object to mine eyes. O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: Her father he obscures her from my sight, He pleads my want of wealth, And says it is a bar in Venus' court. How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, That love, the only loadstar of my life, Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. But stay: What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy.

LELIA. Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince Aeneas landed on the sandy shores Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance.

SOPHOS. And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me Unto the place where I might see my dear, As dear to me as is the dearest life.

NURSE. Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend.

SOPHOS. Yet fortune favours fools.

NURSE. By that conclusion you should not be wise. [Aside.

LELIA. Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair.

SOPHOS. 'Tis then to show her mutability: But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: Since then, there fits for love both time and place, Let love and liking hand in hand embrace.

NURSE. Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have but one fault—I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry Fie, fie; and that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind with come-agains.

SOPHOS. But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love?

LELIA. Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, And with this hand receive a loyal heart. High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, Grant to our love a wish'd felicity!

SOPHOS. As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, To summon him to his desired rest; Or as the poor distressed mariner, Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd.

LELIA. My father recks not virtue, But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, And better likes of learning's sacred lore, Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill To please my father, and compass his goodwill.

SOPHOS. To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: But, were that venture harder to atchieve Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts.

NURSE. How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake.

LELIA. Thanks, gentle love: But, lest my father should suspect— Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use— I'll in, and leave you here alone. Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. Come, nurse, follow me.

[Exeunt LELIA and NURSE.

SOPHOS. Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] Well, I'll try my fortunes; And find out some convenient time, When as her father's leisure best shall serve To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. [Exit SOPHOS.

Enter GRIPE, old PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, and WILL CRICKET.

GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done sowing barley, I am sure?

PLOD-ALL. Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since.

GRIPE. Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet?

CHURMS. Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else.

GRIPE. Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money.

PLOD-ALL. Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent.

WILL CRICKET. This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'—

PLOD-ALL. What wouldst ha' done?

WILL CRICKET. I would have had a snatch at you, that I would.

CHURMS. What, art a dog?

WILL CRICKET. No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone.

GRIPE. Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends.

WILL CRICKET. Would you have a sack, sir?

GRIPE. Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink.

WILL CRICKET. O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks.

GRIPE. Away, fool; get thee in, I say.

WILL CRICKET. Into the buttery, you mean?

GRIPE. I prythee, do.

WILL CRICKET. I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [Aside. Exit.]

GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like you of the motion?

PLOD-ALL. Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, by'r Lady, we think it good fare too.

GRIPE. Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not?

PLOD-ALL. Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon.

GRIPE. You say well.

Enter WILL CRICKET and a boy, with wine and a napkin.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain.

GRIPE. Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [He fills them wine, and gives them the napkin.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink to you.

BOTH. We thank you, sir.

WILL CRICKET. Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember?

CHURMS. Remember? why?

WILL CRICKET. Why, since you know when.

CHURMS. Since when?

WILL CRICKET. Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully rayed—

GRIPE. Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? shall it go forward?

PLOD-ALL. Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, he's very simple.

GRIPE. My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, man, is't a match?

PLOD-ALL. Faith, I agree.

CHURMS. But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some part of his land conveyed to her by jointure?

GRIPE. Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance.

PLOD-ALL. Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your pains.

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.

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.

PEG. Why, William, what's the matter?

WILL CRICKET. What's the matter, quotha? Faith, I ha' been in a fair taking for you, a bots on you! for t'other day, after I had seen you, presently my belly began to rumble. What's the matter, thought I. With that I bethought myself, and the sweet comportance of that same sweet round face of thine came into my mind. Out went I, and, I'll be sworn, I was so near taken, that I was fain to cut all my points. And dost hear, Peg? if thou dost not grant me thy goodwill in the way of marriage, first and foremost I'll run out of my clothes, and then out of my wits for thee.

PEG. Nay, William, I would be loth you should do so for me.

WILL CRICKET. Will you look merrily on me, and love me then?

PEG. Faith, I care not greatly if I do.

WILL CRICKET. Care not greatly if I do? What an answer's that? If thou wilt say, I, Peg, take thee, William, to my spruse husband—

PEG. Why, so I will. But we must have more company for witnesses first.

[Enter Dancers and Piper.]

WILL CRICKET. That needs not. Here's good store of young men and maids here.

PEG. Why, then, here's my hand.

WILL CRICKET. Faith, that's honestly spoken. Say after me: I, Peg Pudding, promise thee, William Cricket, that I'll hold thee for my own sweet lily, while I have a head in mine eye and a face on my nose, a mouth in my tongue and all that a woman should have from the crown of my foot to the sole of my head. I'll clasp thee and clip thee, coll thee and kiss thee, till I be better than nought and worse than nothing. When thou art ready to sleep, I'll be ready to snort; when thou art in health, I'll be in gladness; when thou art sick, I'll be ready to die; when thou art mad, I'll run out of my wits, and thereupon I strike thee good luck. Well said, i' faith. O, I could find in my hose to pocket thee in my heart! Come, my heart of gold, let's have a dance at the making up of this match. Strike up, Tom Piper. [They dance. Come, Peg, I'll take the pains to bring thee homeward; and at twilight look for me again. [Exeunt.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW and PETER PLOD-ALL.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Come hither, my honest friend. Master Churms told me you had a suit to me; what's the matter?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Pray ye, sir, is your name Robin Goodfellow?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. My name is Robin Goodfellow.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Marry, sir, I hear you're a very cunning man, sir, and sir reverence of your worship, sir, I am going a-wooing to one Mistress Lelia, a gentlewoman here hard by. Pray ye, sir, tell me how I should behave myself, to get her to my wife, for, sir, there is a scholar about her; now, if you can tell me how I should wipe his nose of her, I would bestow a fee of you.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Let me see't, and thou shalt see what I'll say to thee. [He gives him money.] Well, follow my counsel, and, I'll warrant thee, I'll give thee a love-powder for thy wench, and a kind of nux vomica in a potion shall make her come off, i' faith.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Shall I trouble you so far as to take some pains with me? I am loth to have the dodge.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Tush! fear not the dodge. I'll rather put on my flashing red nose and my flaming face, and come wrapped in a calf's skin, and cry Bo bo. I'll fray the scholar, I warrant thee. But first go to her, try what thou canst do; perhaps she'll love thee without any further ado. But thou must tell her thou hast a good stock, some hundred or two a year, and that will set her hard, I warrant thee; for, by the mass, I was once in good comfort to have cosened a wench, and wott'st thou what I told her? I told her I had a hundred pound land a year in a place, where I have not the breadth of my little finger. I promised her to enfeoff her in forty pounds a year of it, and I think of my conscience, if I had had but as good a face as thine, I should have made her have cursed the time that ever she see it. And thus thou must do: crack and lie, and face, and thou shalt triumph mightily.

PETER PLOD-ALL. I need not do so, for I may say, and say true, I have lands and living enough for a country fellow.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. By'r Lady, so had not I. I was fain to overreach, as many times I do; but now experience hath taught me so much craft that I excel in cunning.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Well, sir, then I'll be bold to trust to your cunning, and so I'll bid you farewell, and go forward. I'll to her, that's flat.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Do so, and let me hear how you speed.

PETER PLOD-ALL. That I will, sir. [Exit PETER.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Well, a good beginning makes a good end. Here's ten groats for doing nothing. I con Master Churms thanks for this, for this was his device; and therefore I'll go seek him out, and give him a quart of wine, and know of him how he deals with the scholar. [Exit.

Enter CHURMS and SOPHOS.

CHURMS. Why, look ye, sir; by the Lord, I can but wonder at her father; he knows you to be a gentleman of good bringing up, and though your wealth be not answerable to his, yet, by heavens, I think you are worthy to do far better than Lelia—yet I know she loves you dearly.

SOPHOS. The great Tartarian emperor, Tamar Cham, Joy'd not so much in his imperial crown, As Sophos joys in Lelia's hoped-for love, Whose looks would pierce an adamantine heart, And makes the proud beholders stand at gaze, To draw love's picture from her glancing eye.

CHURMS. And I will stretch my wits unto the highest strain, To further Sophos in his wish'd desires.

SOPHOS. Thanks, gentle sir. But truce awhile; here comes her father.

Enter GRIPE.

I must speak a word or two with him.

CHURMS. Ay, he'll give you your answer, I warrant ye. [Aside.

SOPHOS. God save you, sir.

GRIPE. O Master Sophos, I have longed to speak with you a great while. I hear you seek my daughter Lelia's love. I hope you will not seek to dishonest me, nor disgrace my daughter.

SOPHOS. No, sir; a man may ask a yea; a woman may say nay. She is in choice to take her choice, yet I must confess I love Lelia.

GRIPE. Sir, I must be plain with you. I like not of your love. Lelia's mine. I'll choose for Lelia, and therefore I would wish you not to frequent my house any more. It's better for you to ply your book, and seek for some preferment that way, than to seek for a wife before you know how to maintain her.

SOPHOS. I am not rich, I am not very poor; I neither want, nor ever shall exceed: The mean is my content; I live 'twixt two extremes.

GRIPE. Well, well; I tell ye I like not you should come to my house, and presume so proudly to match your poor pedigree with my daughter Lelia, and therefore I charge you to get off my ground, come no more at my house. I like not this learning without living, I.

SOPHOS. He needs must go that the devil drives: Sic virtus sine censu languet. [Exit SOPHOS.

GRIPE. O Master Churms, cry you mercy, sir; I saw not you. I think I have sent the scholar away with a flea in his ear. I trow, he'll come no more at my house.

CHURMS. No; for if he do, you may indict him for coming of your ground.

GRIPE. Well, now I'll home, and keep in my daughter. She shall neither go to him nor send to him; I'll watch her, I'll warrant her. Before God, Master Churms, it is the peevishest girl that ever I knew in my life; she will not be ruled, I doubt. Pray ye, sir, do you endeavour to persuade her to take Peter Plod-all.

CHURMS. I warrant ye, I'll persuade her; fear not.

[Exeunt.

Enter LELIA and NURSE.

LELIA. What sorrow seizeth on my heavy heart! Consuming care possesseth ev'ry part: Heart-sad Erinnis keeps his mansion here Within the closure of my woful breast; And black Despair with iron sceptre stands, And guides my thoughts down to his hateful cell. The wanton winds with whistling murmur bear My piercing plaints along the desert plains; And woods and groves do echo forth my woes: The earth below relents in crystal tears, When heav'ns above, by some malignant course Of fatal stars, are authors of my grief. Fond love, go hide thy shafts in folly's den, And let the world forget thy childish force; Or else fly, fly, pierce Sophos' tender breast, That he may help to sympathise these plaints, That wring these tears from Lelia's weeping eyes.

NURSE. Why, how now, mistress? what, is it love that makes you weep, and toss, and turn so a-nights, when you are in bed? Saint Leonard grant you fall not love-sick.

LELIA. Ay, that's the point that pierceth to the quick. Would Atropos would cut my vital thread, And so make lavish of my loathed life: Or gentle heav'ns would smile with fair aspect, And so give better fortunes to my love! Why, is't not a plague to be a prisoner to mine own father?

NURSE. Yes, and 't's a shame for him to use you so too: But be of good cheer, mistress; I'll go To Sophos ev'ry day; I'll bring you tidings And tokens too from him, I'll warrant ye; And if he'll send you a kiss or two, I'll bring it. Let me alone; I am good at a dead lift: Marry, I cannot blame you for loving of Sophos; Why, he's a man as one should picture him in wax. But, mistress—out upon's! wipe your eyes, For here comes another wooer.

Enter PETER PLOD-ALL.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Mistress Lelia, God speed you.

LELIA. That's more than we Need at this time, for we are doing nothing.

PETER PLOD-ALL. 'Twere as good say a good word as a bad.

LELIA. But it's more wisdom to say nothing at all, Than speak to no purpose.

PETER PLOD-ALL. My purpose is to wive you.

LELIA. And mine is never to wed you.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Belike, you are in love with somebody else.

NURSE. No, but she's lustily promised. Hear you—you with [the] long rifle by your side—do you lack a wife?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Call ye this [a] rifle? it's a good backsword.

NURSE. Why, then, you with [the] backsword, let's see your back.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Nay, I must speak with Mistress Lelia Before I go.

LELIA. What would you with me?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Marry, I have heard very well of you, and so has my father too; and he has sent me to you a-wooing; and if you have any mind of marriage, I hope I shall maintain you as well as any husbandman's wife in the country.

NURSE. Maintain her? with what?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Marry, with my lands and livings my father has promised me.

LELIA. I have heard much of your wealth, but I never knew you manners before now.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Faith, I have no manors, but a pretty home-stall; and we have great store of oxen and horses, and carts and ploughs and household-stuff 'bomination, and great flocks of sheep, and flocks of geese and capons, and hens and ducks. O, we have a fine yard of pullen! And, thank God, here's a fine weather for my father's lambs.

LELIA. I cannot live content in discontent: For as no music can delight the ears, Where all the parts of discords are composed. So wedlock-bands will still consist in jars, Where in condition there's no sympathy; Then rest yourself contented with this answer— I cannot love.

PETER PLOD-ALL. It's no matter what you say: for my father told me thus much before I came, that you would be something nice at first; but he bad me like you ne'er the worse for that, for I were the liker to speed.

LELIA. Then you were best leave off your suit till Some other time: and when my leisure serves me To love you, I'll send you word.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Will you? well then I'll take my leave of you; and if I may hear from you, I'll pay the messenger well for his pains. But stay—God's death! I had almost forgot myself! pray ye, let me kiss your hand, ere I go.

NURSE. Faith, mistress, his mouth runs a-water for a kiss; a little would serve his turn, belike: let him kiss your hand.

LELIA. I'll not stick for that. [He kisseth her hand.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Mistress Lelia, God be with you.

LELIA. Farewell, Peter. [Exit PETER. Thus lucre's set in golden chair of state, When learning's bid stand by, and keeps aloof: This greedy humour fits my father's vein, Who gapes for nothing but for golden gain.

Enter CHURMS.

NURSE. Mistress, take heed you speak nothing that will bear action, for here comes Master Churms the pettifogger.

CHURMS. Mistress Lelia, rest you merry: what's the reason you and your nurse walk here alone?

LELIA. Because, sir, we desire no other company but our own.

CHURMS. Would I were then your own, that I might keep you company.

NURSE. O sir, you and he that is her own are far asunder.

CHURMS. But if she please, we may be nearer.

LELIA. That cannot be; mine own is nearer than myself: And yet myself, alas! am not mine own. Thoughts, fears, despairs, ten thousand dreadful dreams, Those are mine own, and those do keep me company.

CHURMS. Before God, I must confess, your father is too cruel, To keep you thus sequester'd from the world, To spend your prime of youth thus in obscurity, And seek to wed you to an idiot fool, That knows not how to use himself: Could my deserts but answer my desires, I swear by Sol, fair Phoebus' silver eye, My heart would wish no higher to aspire, Than to be grac'd with Lelia's love. By Jesus, I cannot play the dissembler, And woo my love with courting ambages, Like one whose love hangs on his smooth tongue's end; But, in a word, I tell the sum of my desires, I love fair Lelia: By her my passions daily are increas'd; And I must die, unless by Lelia's love they be releas'd.

LELIA. Why, Master Churms, I had thought that you had been my father's great councillor in all these actions.

CHURMS. Nay, damn me, if I be: by heav'ns, sweet nymph, I am not!

NURSE. Master Churms, you are one can do much with her father: and if you love as you say, persuade him to use her more kindly, and give her liberty to take her choice; for these made marriages prove not well.

CHURMS. I protest I will.

LELIA. So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:— Meanwhile, nurse, let's in: My long absence, I know, will make my father muse.

[Exeunt LELIA and NURSE.

CHURMS. So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:—who can but ruminate upon these words? Would she had said, her love: but 'tis no matter; first creep, and then go; now her friend: the next degree is Lelia's love. Well, I'll persuade her father to let her have a little more liberty. But soft; I'll none of that neither: so the scholar may chance cosen me. Persuade him to keep her in still: and before she'll have Peter Plod-all, she'll have anybody; and so I shall be sure that Sophos shall never come at her. Why, I'll warrant ye, she'll be glad to run away with me at length. Hang him that has no shifts. I promised Sophos to further him in his suit; but if I do, I'll be pecked to death with hens. I swore to Gripe I would persuade Lelia to love Peter Plod-all; but, God forgive me, 'twas the furthest end of my thought. Tut! what's an oath? every man for himself: I'll shift for one, I warrant ye. [Exit.

Enter FORTUNATUS solus.

FORTUNATUS. Thus have I pass'd the beating billows of the sea, By Ithac's rocks and wat'ry Neptune's bounds: And wafted safe from Mars his bloody fields, Where trumpets sound tantara to the fight, And here arriv'd for to repose myself Upon the borders of my native soil. Now, Fortunatus, bend thy happy course Unto thy father's house, to greet thy dearest friends; And if that still thy aged sire survive, Thy presence will revive his drooping spirits, And cause his wither'd cheeks be sprent with youthful blood, Where death of late was portray'd to the quick. But, soft; who comes here? [Stand aside.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. I wonder I hear not of Master Churms; I would fain know how he speeds, and what success he has in Lelia's love. Well, if he cosen the scholar of her, 'twould make my worship laugh; and if he have her, he may say,—Godamercy, Robin Goodfellow: O, ware a good head as long as you live. Why, Master Gripe, he casts beyond the moon, and Churms is the only man he puts in trust with his daughter; and, I'll warrant, the old churl would take it upon his salvation that he will persuade her to marry Peter Plod-all. But I will make a fool of Peter Plod-all; I'll look him in the face, and pick his purse, whilst Churms cosen him of his wench, and my old grandsire Holdfast of his daughter: and if he can do so, I'll teach him a trick to cosen him of his gold too. Now, for Sophos, let him wear the willow garland, and play the melancholy malcontent, and pluck his hat down in his sullen eyes, and think on Lelia in these desert groves: 'tis enough for him to have her in his thoughts, although he ne'er embrace her in his arms. But now there's a fine device comes into my head to scare the scholar: you shall see, I'll make fine sport with him. They say that every day he keeps his walk amongst these woods and melancholy shades, and on the bark of every senseless tree engraves the tenor of his hapless hope. Now when he's at Venus' altar at his orisons, I'll put me on my great carnation-nose, and wrap me in a rowsing calf-skin suit, and come like some hobgoblin, or some devil ascended from the grisly pit of hell, and like a scarbabe make him take his legs: I'll play the devil, I warrant ye.

[Exit ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

FORTUNATUS. And if you do, by this hand, I'll play the conjuror. Blush, Fortunatus, at the base conceit! To stand aloof, like one that's in a trance, And with thine eyes behold that miscreant imp, Whose tongue['s] more venom['s] than the serpent's sting, Before thy face thus taunt thy dearest friends— Ay, thine own father—with reproachful terms! Thy sister Lelia, she is bought and sold, And learned Sophos, thy thrice-vowed friend, Is made a stale by this base cursed crew And damned den of vagrant runagates: But here, in sight of sacred heav'ns, I swear By all the sorrows of the Stygian souls, By Mars his bloody blade, and fair Bellona's bowers, I vow, these eyes shall ne'er behold my father's face, These feet shall never pass these desert plains; But pilgrim-like, I'll wander in these woods, Until I find out Sopho's secret walks. And sound the depth of all their plotted drifts. Nor will I cease, until these hands revenge Th'injurious wrong, that's offer'd to my friend, Upon the workers of this stratagem. [Exit.

Enter PEG sola.

I' faith, i' faith, I cannot tell what to do; I love, and I love, and I cannot tell who: Out upon this love! for, wot you what? I have suitors come huddle, twos upon twos, And threes upon threes: and what think you Troubles me? I must chat and kiss with all comers, Or else no bargain.

Enter WILL CRICKET, and kisses her.

WILL CRICKET. A bargain, i' faith: ha, my sweet honey-sops! how dost thou?

PEG. Well, I thank you, William; now I see y'are a man of your word.

WILL CRICKET. A man o' my word, quotha? why, I ne'er broke promise in my life that I kept.

PEG. No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me.

WILL CRICKET. Dost hear, Peg? if e'er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember thee.

PEG. Peace! here comes my granam Midnight.

Enter MOTHER MIDNIGHT.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art thou, trow?

PEG. Here, granam, at your elbow.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. What mak'st thou here this twatter light? I think thou'rt in a dream; I think the fool haunts thee.

WILL CRICKET. Zounds, fool in your face! Fool? O monstrous intitulation. Fool? O, disgrace to my person. Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a cold rasher, I can tell you. Give me but such another word, and I'll be thy tooth-drawer—even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou!

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they be old and testy, hot and hasty. Set not your wit against mine, William; for I thought you no harm, by my troth.

WILL CRICKET. Well, your good words have something laid my choler. But, granam, shall I be so bold to come to your house now and then to keep Peg company?

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Ay, and beshrew thy good heart, and thou dost not. Come, and we'll have a piece of a barley bag-pudding or something, and thou shalt be very heartily welcome, that thou shalt, and Peg shall bid thee welcome too. Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for, by my vay, he's a good proper springal.[146]

PEG. Granam, if you did but see him dance, 'twould do your heart good. Lord! 'twould make anybody love him, to see how finely he'll foot it.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. William, prythee, go home to my house with us, and take a cup of our beer, and learn to know the way again another time.

WILL CRICKET. Come on, granam. I'll man you home, i' faith. Come, Peg. [Exeunt.

Enter GRIPE, old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER, and CHURMS the lawyer.

PLOD-ALL. Come hither, Peter; hold up your head. Where's your cap and leg, sir boy, ha?

PETER PLOD-ALL. By your leave, Master Gripe.

GRIPE. Welcome, Peter; give me thy hand: thou'rt welcome. By'r Lady, this is a good, proper, tall fellow, neighbour; call you him a boy?

PLOD-ALL. A good, pretty, square springal,[147] sir.

GRIPE. Peter, you have seen my daughter, I am sure. How do you like her? What says she to you?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Faith, I like her well, and I have broken my mind to her, and she would say neither ay nor no. But, thank God, sir, we parted good friends, for she let me kiss her hand, and bad, Farewell, Peter, and therefore I think I am like enough to speed. How think you, Master Churms?

CHURMS. Marry, I think so too, for she did show no token of any dislike of your motion, did she?

PETER PLOD-ALL. No, not a whit, sir.

CHURMS. Why then, I warrant ye, for we hold in our law that, idem est non apparere et non esse.

GRIPE. Master Churms, I pray you, do so much as call my daughter hither. I will make her sure here to Peter Plod-all, and I'll desire you to be a witness.

CHURMS. With all my heart, sir. [Exit CHURMS.

GRIPE. Before God, neighbour, this same Master Churms is a very good lawyer, for, I warrant, you cannot speak anything, but he has law for it ad unguem.

PLOD-ALL. Marry, even the more joy on him, and he's one that I am very much beholding to: but here comes your daughter.

Enter CHURMS, LELIA, and NURSE.

LELIA. Father, did you send for me?

GRIPE. Ay, wench, I did. Come hither, Lelia; give me thy hand. Master Churms, I pray you, bear witness, I here give Lelia to Peter Plod-all. [She plucks away her hand.] How now?

NURSE. She'll none, she thanks you, sir.

GRIPE. Will she none? Why, how now, I say? What, you puling, peevish thing, you untoward baggage, will you not be ruled by your father? Have I taken care to bring you up to this, and will you do as you list? Away, I say; hang, starve, beg; begone, pack, I say; out of my sight! Thou never gettest pennyworth of my goods for this. Think on't, I do not use to jest. Begone, I say; I will not hear thee speak.

[Exeunt LELIA and NURSE.

CHURMS. I pray you, sir, patient yourself; she's young.

GRIPE. I hold my life, this beggarly scholar hankers about her still, makes her so untoward. But I'll home; I'll set her a harder task. I'll keep her in, and look to her a little better than I ha' done. I'll make her have little mind of gadding, I warrant her. Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he's welcome thither, and shall be welcome; and I'll make Lelia bid him welcome too, ere I ha' done with her. Come, Peter, follow us. [Exeunt all but CHURMS.

CHURNS. Why, this is excellent: better and better still. This is beyond expectation; why, now this gear begins to work. But, beshrew my heart, I was afraid that Lelia would have yielded. When I saw her father take her by the hand and call me for a witness, my heart began to quake; but, to say the truth, she had little reason to take a cullian lug-loaf, milksop slave, when she may have a lawyer, a gentleman that stands upon his reputation in the country, one whose diminutive defect of law may compare with his little learning. Well, I see that Churms must be the man must carry Lelia, when all's done.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. How now, Master Churms? What news abroad? Methinks you look very spruce; y'are very frolic now a-late.

CHURMS. What, fellow Robin? How goes the squares with you? Y'are waxen very proud a-late; you will not know your own friends.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Faith, I even came to seek you, to bestow a quart of wine of you.

CHURMS. That's strange; you were never wont to be so liberal.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Tush, man; one good turn asks another; clear gains, man, clear gains! Peter Plod-all shall pay for all. I have gulled him once, and I'll come over him again and again, I warrant ye.

CHURMS. Faith, Lelia has e'en given him the doff[148] here, and has made her father almost stark-mad.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O, all the better; then I shall be sure of more of his custom. But what success have you in your suit with her?

CHURMS. Faith, all hitherto goes well. I have made the motion to her, but as yet we are grown to no conclusion. But I am in very good hope.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. But do you think you shall get her father's goodwill?

CHURMS. Tut, if I get the wench, I care not for that; that will come afterward; and I'll be sure of something in the meantime, for I have outlawed a great number of his debtors, and I'll gather up what money I can amongst them, and Gripe shall never know of it neither.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Ay, and of those that are scarce able to pay, take the one half, and forgive them the other, rather than sit out at all.

CHURMS. Tush! let me alone for that; but, sirrah, I have brought the scholar into a fool's paradise. Why, he has made me his spokesman to Mistress Lelia, and, God's my judge, I never so much as name him to her.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O, by the mass, well-remembered. I'll tell you what I mean to do: I'll attire myself fit for the same purpose, Like to some hellish hag or damned fiend, And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods. O, I shall fray him terribly.

CHURMS. I would thou couldst scare him out of his wits, then should I ha' the wench, cocksure. I doubt nobody but him.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Well, let's go drink together, And then I'll go put on my devilish robes— I mean, my Christmas calf-skin suit, And then walk to the woods. O, I'll terrify him, I warrant ye.

[Exeunt.

A Wood.

Enter SOPHOS solus.

SOPHOS. Will heavens still smile at Sophos' miseries, And give no end to my incessant moans? These cypress shades are witness of my woes; The senseless trees do grieve at my laments; The leafy branches drop sweet Myrrha's tears: For love did scorn me in my mother's womb, And sullen Saturn, pregnant at my birth, With all the fatal stars conspir'd in one To frame a hapless constellation, Presaging Sophos' luckless destiny. Here, here doth Sophos turn Ixion's restless wheel, And here lies wrapp'd in labyrinths of love— Of his sweet Lelia's love, whose sole idea still Prolongs the hapless date of Sophos' hopeless life. Ah! said I life? a life far worse than death— Than death? ay, than ten thousand deaths. I daily die, in that I live love's thrall; They die thrice happy that once die for all. Here will I stay my weary wand'ring steps, And lay me down upon this solid earth, [He lies down. The mother of despair and baleful thoughts. Ay, this befits my melancholy moods. Now, now, methinks I hear the pretty birds With warbling tunes record Fair Lelia's name, Whose absence makes warm blood drop from my heart, And forceth wat'ry tears from these my weeping eyes. Methinks I hear the silver-sounding stream With gentle murmur summon me to sleep, Singing a sweet, melodious lullaby. Here will I take a nap, and drown my hapless hopes In the ocean seas of Never like to speed. [He falls in a slumber, and music sounds.

Enter SYLVANUS.

SYLVANUS. Thus hath Sylvanus left his leafy bowers, Drawn by the sound of Echo's sad reports, That with shrill notes and high resounding voice Doth pierce the very caverns of the earth, And rings through hills and dales the sad laments Of virtue's loss and Sophos' mournful plaints. Now, Morpheus, rouse thee from thy sable den, Charm all his senses with a slumb'ring trance; Whilst old Sylvanus send[s] a lovely train Of satyrs, dryades, and water[149] nymphs Out of their bowers to tune their silver strings, And with sweet-sounding music sing Some pleasing madrigals and roundelays, To comfort Sophos in his deep distress. [Exit SYLVANUS.

Enter the Nymphs and Satyrs singing.

THE SONG.

1.

Satyrs, sing, let sorrow keep her cell, Let warbling Echoes ring, And sounding music yell[150] Through hills, through dales, sad grief and care to kill In him long since, alas! hath griev'd his fill.

2.

Sleep no more, but wake and live content, Thy grief the Nymphs deplore: The Sylvan gods lament To hear, to see thy moan, thy loss, thy love, Thy plaints to tears the flinty rocks do move.

3.

Grieve not, then; the queen of love is mild, She sweetly smiles on men, When reason's most beguil'd; Her looks, her smiles are kind, are sweet, are fair: Awake therefore, and sleep not still in care.

4.

Love intends to free thee from annoy, His nymphs Sylvanus sends To bid thee live in joy, In hope, in joy, sweet love, delight's embrace: Fair love herself will yield thee so much grace.

[Exeunt the Nymphs and Satyrs.

SOPHOS. What do I hear? what harmony is this, With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears. And drives sad passions from his heavy heart, Presaging some good future hap shall fall, After these blust'ring blasts of discontent? Thanks, gentle Nymphs, and Satyrs too, adieu; That thus compassionate a loyal lover's woe, When heav'n sits smiling at his dire mishaps.

Enter FORTUNATUS.

FORTUNATUS. With weary steps I trace these desert groves, And search to find out Sophos' secret walks, My truest vowed friend and Lelia's dearest love.

SOPHOS. What voice is this sounds Lelia's sacred name? [He riseth. Is it some satyr that hath view'd her late, And's grown enamour'd of her gorgeous hue?

FORTUNATUS. No satyr, Sophos; but thy ancient friend, Whose dearest blood doth rest at thy command: Hath sorrow lately blear'd thy wat'ry eyes, That thou forgett'st the lasting league of love, Long since was vowed betwixt thyself and me? Look on me, man; I am thy friend.

SOPHOS. O, now I know thee, now thou nam'st my friend; I have no friend, to whom I dare Unload the burden of my grief, But only Fortunatus, he's my second self: Mi Fortunate, ter fortunaté venis.[151]

FORTUNATUS. How fares my friend? methinks you look not well; Your eyes are sunk, your cheeks look pale and wan: What means this alteration?

SOPHOS. My mind, sweet friend, is like a mastless ship, That's hurl'd and toss'd upon the surging seas By Boreas' bitter blast and Ae'lus' whistling winds, On rocks and sands far from the wished port, Whereon my silly ship desires to land: Fair Lelia's love, that is the wished haven, Wherein my wand'ring mind would take repose; For want of which my restless thoughts are toss'd, For want of which all Sophos' joys are lost.

FORTUNATUS. Doth Sophos love my sister Lelia?

SOPHOS. She, she it is, whose love I wish to gain, Nor need I wish, nor do I love in vain: My love she doth repay with equal meed— 'Tis strange, you'll say, that Sophos should not speed.

FORTUNATUS. Your love repaid with equal meed, And yet you languish still in love? 'tis strange. From whence proceeds your grief, Unfold unto your friend: a friend may yield relief.

SOPHOS. My want of wealth is author of my grief; Your father says, my state is too-too low: I am no hobby bred; I may not soar so high As Lelia's love, The lofty eagle will not catch at flies. When I with Icarus would soar against the sun, He is the only fiery Phaeton Denies my course, and sears my waxen wings, When as I soar aloft. He mews fair Lelia up from Sophos' sight, That not so much as paper pleads remorse. Thrice three times Sol hath slept in Thetis' lap, Since these mine eyes beheld sweet Lelia's face: What greater grief, what other hell than this, To be denied to come where my beloved is?

FORTUNATUS. Do you alone love Lelia? Have you no rivals with you in your love?

SOPHOS. Yes, only one; and him your father backs: 'Tis Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir, One whose base, rustic, rude desert Unworthy far to win so fair a prize; Yet means your father for to make a match For golden lucre with this Coridon, And scorns at virtue's lore: hence grows my grief.

FORTUNATUS. If it be true I hear, there is one Churms beside Makes suit to win my sister to his bride.

SOPHOS. That cannot be; Churms is my vowed friend, Whose tongue relates the tenor of my love To Lelia's ears: I have no other means.

FORTUNATUS. Well, trust him not: the tiger hides his claws, When oft he doth pretend[152] the greatest guiles. But stay: here comes Lelia's nurse.

Enter NURSE.

SOPHOS. Nurse, what news? How fares my love?

NURSE. How fares she, quotha? marry, she may fare how she will for you. Neither come to her nor send to her of a whole fortnight! Now I swear to you by my maidenhead, if my husband should have served me so when he came a wooing me, I would never have looked on him with a good face, as long as I had lived. But he was as kind a wretch as ever laid lips of a woman: he would a'come through the windows, or doors, or walls, or anything, but he would have come to me. Marry, after we had been married a while, his kindness began to slack, for I'll tell you what he did: he made me believe he would go to Green-goose fair; and I'll be sworn he took his legs, and ran clean away. And I am afraid you'll prove e'en such another kind piece to my mistress; for she sits at home in a corner weeping for you: and, I'll be sworn, she's ready to die upward for you. And her father o' the other side, he yawls at her, and jawls at her; and she leads such a life for you, it passes: and you'll neither come to her, nor send to her. Why, she thinks you have forgotten her.

SOPHOS. Nay, then let heav'ns in sorrow end my days, And fatal fortune never cease to frown: And heav'n and earth, and all conspire to pull me down, If black oblivion seize upon my heart, Once to estrange my thoughts from Lelia's love.

FORTUNATUS. Why, nurse, I am sure that Lelia hears From Sophos once a day at least by Churms The lawyer, who is his only friend.

NURSE. What, young master! God bless mine eyesight. Now, by my maidenhead, y'are welcome home: I am sure my mistress will be glad to see you. But what said you of Master Churms?

FORTUNATUS. Marry, I say he's a well-wisher to my sister Lelia, And a secret friend to Sophos.

NURSE. Marry, the devil he is! trust him, and hang him. Why, he cannot speak a good word on him to my old master; and he does so ruffle before my mistress with his barbarian eloquence,[153] and strut before her in a pair of Polonian legs, as if he were a gentleman-usher to the great Turk or to the devil of Dowgate. And if my mistress would be ruled by him, Sophos might go snick-up: but he has such a butter-milk face, that she'll never have him.

SOPHOS. Can falsehood lurk in those enticing looks! And deep dissemblance lie, where truth appears?

FORTUNATUS. Injurious villain, to betray his friend!

NURSE. Sir, do you know the gentleman?

FORTUNATUS. Faith, not well.

NURSE. Why, sir, he looks like a red herring at a nobleman's table on Easter-day, and he speaks nothing but almond-butter and sugarcandy.

FORTUNATUS. That's excellent.

SOPHOS. This world's the chaos of confusion; No world at all, but mass of open wrongs, Wherein a man, as in a map, may see The highroad way from woe to misery.

FORTUNATUS. Content yourself, and leave these passions: Now do I sound the depth of all their drifts, The devil's[154] device and Churms his knavery; On whom this heart hath vow'd to be reveng'd. I'll scatter them: the plot's already in my head. Nurse, hie thee home, commend me to my sister; Bid her this night send for Master Churms: To him she must recount her many griefs, Exclaim against her father's hard constraint, and so Cunningly temporise with this cunning Catso, That he may think she loves him as her life; Bid her tell him that, if by any means He can convey her forth her father's gate Unto a secret friend of hers, The way to whom lies by this forest-side; That none but he shall have her to his bride. For her departure let her 'ppoint the time To-morrow night, when Vesper 'gins to shine; Here will I be when Lelia comes this way, Accompani'd with her gentleman-usher, Whose am'rous thoughts do dream on nought but love: And if this bastinado hold, I'll make Him leave his wench with Sophos for a pawn. Let me alone to use him in his kind; This is the trap which for him I have laid, Thus craft by cunning once shall be betray'd: And, for the devil,[155] I will conjure him. Good nurse, begone; bid her not fail: And for a token bear to her this ring, Which well she knows; for, when I saw her last, It was her favour, and she gave it me.

SOPHOS. And bear her this from me, And with this ring bid her receive my heart— My heart! alas, my heart I cannot give; How should I give her that which is her own?

NURSE. And your heart be hers, her heart is yours, and so change is no robbery. Well, I'll give her your tokens, and tell her what ye say.

FORTUNATUS. Do, good nurse; but in any case let not my father know that I am here, until we have effected all our purposes.

NURSE. I'll warrant you, I will not play with you, as Master Churms does with Sophos; I would ha' my ears cut from my head first. [Exit NURSE.

FORTUNATUS. Come, Sophos, cheer up yourself, man; Let hope expel these melancholy dumps. Meanwhile, let's in, expecting How the events of this device will fall, Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, When we'll expect the coming of your love. What, man, I'll work it through the fire, But you shall have her.

SOPHOS. And I will study to deserve this love.

[Exeunt.

Enter WILLIAM CRICKET solus.

WILL CRICKET. Look on me, and look of Master Churms, a good, proper man. Marry, Master Churms has something a better pair of legs indeed, but for a sweet face, a fine beard, comely corpse, and a carousing codpiece.

All England, if it can, Show me such a man, To win a wench, by Gis, To clip, to coll, to kiss, As William Cricket is.

Why, look you now: if I had been such a great, long, large, lobcocked, loselled lurden, as Master Churms is, I'll warrant you, I should never have got Peg as long as I had lived, for, do you mark, a wench will never love a man that has all his substance in his legs. But stay: here comes my landlord; I must go salute him.

Enter old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER.

PLOD-ALL. Come hither, Peter. When didst thou see Robin Goodfellow? He's the man must do the fact.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Faith, father, I see him not this two days, but I'll seek him out, for I know he'll do the deed, and she were twenty Leilas. For, father, he's a very cunning man for give him but ten groats, and he'll give me a powder that will make Lelia come to bed to me, and when I have her there, I'll use her well enough.

PLOD-ALL. Will he so? Marry, I will give him vorty shillings, if he can do it.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Nay, he'll do more than that too, for he'll make himself like a devil, and fray the scholar that hankers about her out on's wits.

PLOD-ALL. Marry, Jesus bless us! will he so? Marry, thou shalt have vorty shillings to give him, and thy mother shall bestow a hard cheese on him beside.

WILL CRICKET. Landlord, a pox on you, this good morn!

PLOD-ALL. How now, fool? what, dost curse me?

WILL CRICKET. How now, fool! How now, caterpillar? It's a sign of death, when such vermin creep hedges so early in the morning.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Sirrah foul manners, do you know to whom you speak?

WILL CRICKET. Indeed, Peter, I must confess I want some of your wooing manners, or else I might have turned my fair bushtail to you instead of your father, and have given you the ill salutation this morning.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Let him alone, Peter; I'll temper him well enough. Sirrah, I hear say, you must be married shortly. I'll make you pay a sweet fine for your house for this. Ha, sirrah! am not I your landlord?

WILL CRICKET. Yes, for fault of a better; but you get neither sweet fine nor sour fine of me.

PLOD-ALL. My masters, I pray you bear witness I do discharge him then.

WILL CRICKET. My masters, I pray you bear witness my landlord has given me a general discharge. I'll be married presently. My fine's paid; I have a discharge for it. [He offers to go away.

PLOD-ALL. Nay, prythee, stay.

WILL CRICKET. No, I'll not stay. I'll go call the clerk. I'll be cried out upon i' the church presently. What, ho! what, clerk, I say? where are you?

Enter CLERK.

CLERK. Who calls me? what would you with me?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, sir, I would have you to make proclamation that, if any manner of man, o' the town or the country, can lay any claim to Peg Pudding, let him bring word to the crier, or else William Cricket will wipe his nose of her.

CLERK. You mean, you would be asked i' the church?

WILL CRICKET. Ay, that's it. A bots on't, I cannot hit of these marrying terms yet. And I'll desire my landlord here and his son to be at the celebration of my marriage too. I' faith, Peter, you shall cram your guts full of cheesecakes and custards there; and, sirrah clerk, if thou wilt say amen stoutly, i' faith, my powder-beef-slave, I'll have a rump of beef for thee, shall make thy mouth stand o' the tother side.

CLERK. When would you have it done?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, e'en as soon as may be. Let me see; I will be asked i' the church of Sunday morning prayer, and again at evening prayer, and the next holyday that comes, I will be asked i' the forenoon and married i' the afternoon, for, do you mark, I am none of these sneaking fellows that will stand thrumming of caps and studying upon a matter, as long as Hunks with the great head has been about to show his little wit in the second part of his paltry poetry,[156] but if I begin with wooing, I'll end with wedding, and therefore, good clerk, let me have it done with all speed; for, I promise you, I am very sharp-set.

CLERK. Faith, you may be asked i' the church on Sunday at morning prayer, but Sir John cannot 'tend[157] to do it at evening prayer, for there comes a company of players to the town on Sunday i' the afternoon, and Sir John is so good a fellow that I know he'll scarce leave their company to say evening prayer; for, though I say it, he's a very painful man, and takes so great delight in that faculty, that he'll take as great pain about building of a stage or so, as the basest fellow among them.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, if he have so lawful an excuse, I am content to defer it one day the longer; and, landlord, I hope you and your son Peter will make bold with us, and trouble us.

PLOD-ALL. Nay, William, we would be loth to trouble you; but you shall have our company there.

WILL CRICKET. Faith, you shall be very heartily welcome, and we will have good merry rogues there, that will make you laugh till you burst.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Why, William, what company do you mean to have?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, first and foremost, there will be an honest Dutch cobbler, that will sing I will noe meare to Burgaine[158] go, the best that ever you heard.

PETER PLOD-ALL. What, must a cobbler be your chief guest? Why, he's a base fellow.

WILL CRICKET. A base fellow! You may be ashamed to say so, for he's an honest fellow and a good fellow; and he begins to carry the very badge of good-fellowship upon his nose, that I do not doubt but in time he will prove as good a cup-companion as Robin Goodfellow himself. Ay, and he's a tall fellow, and a man of his hands too, for, I'll tell you what—tie him to the bull-ring, and for a bag-pudding, a custard, a cheesecake, a hog's cheek, or a calf's head, turn any man i' the town to him, and if he do not prove himself as tall a man as he, let blind Hugh bewitch him, and turn his body into a barrel of strong ale, and let his nose be the spigot, his mouth the faucet, and his tongue a plug for the bunghole. And then there will be Robin Goodfellow, as good a drunken rogue as lives, and Tom Shoemaker; and I hope you will not deny that he's an honest man, for he was constable o' the town; and a number of other honest rascals which, though they are grown bankrouts, and live at the reversion of other men's tables, yet, thanks be to God, they have a penny amongst them at all times at their need.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Nay, if Robin Goodfellow be there, you shall be sure to have our company; for he's one that we hear very well of, and my son here has some occasion to use him, and therefore, if we may know when 'tis, we'll make bold to trouble you.

WILL CRICKET. Yes, I'll send you word.

PLOD-ALL. Why then farewell, till we hear from you.

[Exeunt PLOD-ALL and his son.

WILL CRICKET. Well, clerk, you'll see this matter bravely performed; let it be done as it should be.

CLERK. I'll warrant ye; fear it not.

WILL CRICKET. Why, then, go you to Sir John, and I'll to my wench, and bid her give her maidenhead warning to prepare itself; for the destruction of it is at hand. [Exeunt.

Enter LELIA sola.

LELIA. How love and fortune both with eager mood, Like greedy hounds, do hunt my tired heart, Rous'd forth the thickets of my wonted joys! And Cupid winds his shrill-note buglehorn, For joy my silly heart so near is spent: Desire, that eager cur, pursues the chase, And fortune rides amain unto the fall; Now sorrow sings, and mourning bears a part, Playing harsh descant on my yielding heart.

Enter NURSE.

Nurse, what news?

NURSE. Faith, a whole sackful of news. You love Sophos, and Sophos loves you, and Peter Plod-all loves you, and you love not him, and you love not Master Churms, and he loves you; and so, here's love and no love, and I love and I love not, and I cannot tell what; but of all and of all Master Churms must be the man you must love.

LELIA. Nay, first I'll mount me on the winged wind, And fly for succour to the furthest Ind. Must I love Master Churms?

NURSE. Faith, you must, and you must not.

LELIA. As how, I pray thee?

NURSE. Marry, I have commendations to you.

LELIA. From whom?

NURSE. From your brother Fortunatus.

LELIA. My brother Fortunatus!

NURSE. No, from Sophos.

LELIA. From my love?

NURSE. No, from neither.

LELIA. From neither?

NURSE. Yes, from both.

LELIA. Prythee, leave thy foolery, and let me know thy news.

NURSE. Your brother Fortunatus and your love to-morrow night will meet you by the forest-side, there to confer about I know not what: but it is like that Sophos will make you of his privy council, before you come again.

LELIA. Is Fortunatus then returned from the wars?

NURSE. He is with Sophos every day: but in any case you must not let your father know; for he hath sworn he will not be descried, until he have effected your desires; for he swaggers and swears out of all cry, that he will venture all,

Both fame and blood, and limb and life, But Lelia shall be Sophos' wedded wife.

LELIA. Alas! nurse, my father's jealous brain Doth scarce allow me once a month to go Beyond the compass of his watchful eyes, Nor once afford me any conference With any man, except with Master Churms, Whose crafty brain beguiles my father so, That he reposeth trust in none but him: And though he seeks for favour at my hands, He takes his mark amiss, and shoots awry; For I had rather see the devil himself Than Churms the lawyer. Therefore How I should meet them by the forest-side I cannot possibly devise.

NURSE. And Master Churms must be the man must work the means: you must this night send for him; make him believe you love him mightily; tell him you have a secret friend dwells far away beyond the forest, to whom, if he can secretly convey you from your father, tell him, you will love him better than ever God loved him: and when you come to the place appointed, let them alone to discharge the knave of clubs: and that you must not fail, here receive this ring, which Fortunatus sent you for a token, that this is the plot that you must prosecute; and this from Sophos, as his true love's pledge.

LELIA. This ring my brother sent, I know right well: But this my true love's pledge I more esteem Than all the golden mines the solid earth contains— And see, in happy time, here comes Master Churms.

Enter CHURMS.

Now love and fortune both conspire, And sort their drifts to compass my desire. Master Churms, y'are well met; I am glad to see you.

CHURMS. And I as glad to see fair Lelia, As ever Paris was to see his dear; For whom so many Trojans' blood was spilt: Nor think I would do less than spend my dearest blood To gain fair Lelia's love, although by loss of life.

NURSE. 'Faith, mistress, he speaks like a gentleman. Let me persuade you; be not hard-hearted. Sophos? Why, what's he? If he had loved you but half so well, he would ha' come through stone walls, but he would have come to you ere this.

LELIA. I must confess, I once lov'd Sophos well; But now I cannot love him, whom All the world knows to be a dissembler.

CHURMS. Ere I would wrong my love with one day's absence, I would pass the boiling Hellespont, As once Leander did for Hero's love, Or undertake a greater task than that, Ere I would be disloyal to my love. And if that Lelia give her free consent, That both our loves may sympathise in one, My hand, my heart, my love, my life, and all, Shall ever tend on Lelia's fair command.

LELIA. Master Churms, Methinks 'tis strange you should make such a motion: Say, I should yield and grant you love, When most you did expect a sunshine day, My father's will would mar your hop'd-for hay; And when you thought to reap the fruits of love, His hard constraint would blast it in the bloom: For he so doats on Peter Plod-all's pelf, That none but he forsooth must be the man: And I will rather match myself Unto a groom of Pluto's grisly den, Than unto such a silly golden ass.

CHURMS. Bravely resolved, i' faith!

LELIA. But, to be short— I have a secret friend, that dwells from hence Some two days' journey, that's the most; And if you can, as well I know you may, Convey me thither secretly— For company I desire no other than your own— Here take my hand: That once perform'd, my heart is next.

CHURMS. If on th'adventure all the dangers lay, That Europe or the western world affords; Were it to combat Cerberus himself, Or scale the brazen walls of Pluto's court, When as there is so fair a prize propos'd; If I shrink back, or leave it unperform'd, Let the world canonise me for a coward: Appoint the time, and leave the rest to me.

LELIA. When night's black mantle overspreads the sky, And day's bright lamp is drenched in the west— To-morrow night I think the fittest time, That silent shade[s] may give us[159] safe convoy Unto our wished hopes, unseen of living eye.

CHURMS. And at that time I will not fail In that, or ought may make for our avail.

NURSE. But what if Sophos should meet you by the forest-side, and encounter you with his single rapier?

CHURMS. Sophos? a hop of my thumb! A wretch, a wretch! Should Sophos meet Us there accompani'd with some champion With whom 'twere any credit to encounter, Were he as stout as Hercules himself, Then would I buckle with them hand to hand, And bandy blows, as thick as hailstones fall, And carry Lelia away in spite of all their force. What? love will make cowards fight— Much more a man of my resolution.

LELIA. And on your resolution I'll depend. Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, When I look for you: till when I leave you, And go make preparation for our journey.

CHURMS. Farewell, fair love, until we meet again. Why so: did I not tell you she would be glad to run away with me at length? Why, this falls out, e'en as a man would say, thus I would have it. But now I must go cast about for some money too. Let me see, I have outlawed three or four of Gripe's debtors; and I have the bonds in mine own hands. The sum that is due to him is some two or three hundred pounds. Well, I'll to them; if I can get but one half, I'll deliver them their bonds, and leave the other half to their own consciences: and so I shall be sure to get money to bear charges. When all fails, well fare a good wit! But soft; no more of that. Here comes Master Gripe.

Enter GRIPE.

GRIPE. What, Master Churms? what, all alone? How fares your body?

CHURMS. Faith, sir, reasonable well: I am e'en walking here to take the fresh air.

GRIPE. 'Tis very wholesome, this fair weather. But, Master Churms, how like you my daughter? Can you do any good on her? Will she be ruled yet? How stands she affected to Peter Plod-all?

CHURMS. O, very well, sir; I have made her very conformable. O, let me alone to persuade a woman. I hope you shall see her married within this week at most,—(Aside) I mean to myself.

GRIPE. Master Churms, I am so exceedingly beholding to you, I cannot tell how I shall requite your kindness. But, i' the meantime, here's a brace of angels for you to drink for your pains. This news hath e'en lightened my heart. O sir, my neighbour Plod-all is very wealthy. Come, Master Churms, you shall go home with me: we'll have good cheer, and be merry for this to-night, i' faith.

CHURMS. Well, let them laugh that win. [Aside. Exeunt.

Enter PEG and her GRANAM.

PEG. Granam, give me but two crowns of red gold, and I'll give you twopence of white silver, if Robin the devil be not a water-witch.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Marry, Jesus bless us! why, prythee?

PEG. Marry, I'll tell you why. Upon the morrow after the blessed new year, I came trip, trip, trip, over the market hill, holding up my petticoat to the calves of my legs, to show my fine coloured stockings, and how finely I could foot it in a pair of new corked shoes I had bought; and there I spied this Monsieur Muffe lie gaping up into the skies, to know how many maids would be with child in the town all the year after. O, 'tis a base vexation slave! How the country talks of the large-ribbed varlet!

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Marry, out upon him. What a Friday-faced slave it is: I think in my conscience, his face never keeps holiday.

PEG. Why, his face can never be at quiet. He has such a choleric nose, I durst ha' sworn by my maidenhead (God forgive me, that I should take such an oath), that if William had had such a nose, I would never ha' loved him.

Enter WILLIAM CRICKET.

WILL CRICKET. What a talking is here of noses? Come, Peg, we are toward marriage; let us talk of that may do us good. Granam, what will you give us toward housekeeping?

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Why, William, we are talking of Robin Goodfellow. What think you of him?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, I say, he looks like a tankard-bearer that dwells in Petticoat Lane at the sign of the Mermaid; and I swear by the blood of my codpiece, and I were a woman, I would lug off his lave[160] ears, or run him to death with a spit. And, for his face, I think 'tis pity there is not a law made, that it should be felony to name it in any other places than in bawdy-houses. But, Granam, what will you give us?