Volume Ix Part 48 (1/2)

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 p.o.o.p-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 b.u.t.ton-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 fas.h.i.+on (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 s.h.i.+ne, 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?