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 a.s.s. 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 b.u.t.tocks 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 sc.r.a.pe 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 d.a.m.nable 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 d.a.m.n 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.