Chapter VIII: Prologue (1)

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.