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 tongueś more venomś 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 fortunate 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?

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Marry, I will give Peg a pot and a pan, two platters, a dish and a spoon, a dog and a cat. I trow, she'll prove a good huswife, and love her husband well too.

WILL CRICKET. If she love me, I'll love her. I' faith, my sweet honeycomb, I'll love thee A per se A. We must be asked in church next Sunday; and we'll be married presently.

PEG. I' faith, William, we'll have a merry day on't.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. That we will, i' faith, Peg; we'll have a whole noise of fiddlers there. Come, Peg, let's hie us home; we'll make a bag-pudding to supper, and William shall go and sup with us.

WILL CRICKET. Come on, i' faith. [Exeunt.

Enter FORTUNATUS and SOPHOS.

FORTUNATUS. Why, how now, Sophos? all amort? still languishing in love? Will not the presence of thy friend prevail, Nor hope expel these sullen fits? Cannot mirth wring if but a forged smile From those sad drooping looks of thine? Rely on hope, whose hap will lead thee right To her, whom thou dost call thy heart's delight: Look cheerly, man; the time is near at hand, That Hymen, mounted on a snow-white coach, Shall tend on Sophos and his lovely bride.

SOPHOS. 'Tis impossible: her father, man, her father— He's all for Peter Plod-all.

FORTUNATUS. Should I but see that Plod-all offer love, This sword should pierce the peasant's breast, And chase his soul from his accursed corpse By an unwonted way unto the grisly lake. But now th'appointed time is near, That Churms should come with his supposed love: Then sit we down under these leafy shades, And wait the time of Lelia's wish'd approach.

[They sit down.

SOPHOS. Ay, here I'll wait for Lelia's wish'd approach; More wish'd to me than is a calm at sea[161] To shipwreck'd souls, when great god Neptune frowns. Though sad despair hath almost drown'd my hopes, Yet would I pass the burning vaults of Ork[162], As erst did Hercules to fetch his love, If I might meet my love upon the strond, And but enjoy her love one minute of an hour.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

But stay; what man or devil, or hellish fiend comes here, Transformed in this ugly, uncouth shape?

FORTUNATUS. O, peace a while; you shall see good sport anon.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Now I am clothed in this hellish shape, If I could meet with Sophos in these woods, O, he would take me for the devil himself: I should ha' good laughing, beside the forty Shillings Peter Plod-all has given me; and if I get no more, I'm sure of that. But soft; Now I must try my cunning, for here he sits.— The high commander of the damned souls, Great Dis, the duke of devils, and prince of Limbo lake, High regent of Acheron, Styx, and Phlegeton, By strict command from Pluto, hell's great monarch, And fair Proserpina, the queen of hell, By full consent of all the damned hags, And all the fiends that keep the Stygian plains, Hath sent me here from depth of underground To summon thee to appear at Pluto's court.

FORTUNATUS. A man or devil, or whatsoe'er thou art, I'll try if blows will drive thee down to hell: Belike, thou art the devil's parator, The basest officer that lives in hell; For such thy words import thee for to be. 'Tis pity you should come so far without a fee; And because I know money goes low with Sophos, I'll pay you your fees: [He beats him. Take that and that, and that, upon thee.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O good sir, I beseech you; I'll do anything.

FORTUNATUS. Then down to hell; for sure thou art a devil.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O, hold your hands; I am not a devil, by my troth.

FORTUNATUS. Zounds, dost thou cross me? I say thou art a devil. [Beats him again.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O Lord! sir, save my life, and I'll say as you say, Or anything else you'll ha' me do.

FORTUNATUS. Then stand up, And make a preachment of thy pedigree, And how at first thou learn'dst this devilish trade: Up, I say. [Beats him.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O, I will, sir: although in some places [Stands upon a stool. I bear the title of a scurvy gentleman, By birth I am a boat-wright's son of Hull, My father got me of a refus'd hag, Under the old ruins of Booby's barn; Who, as she liv'd, at length she likewise died, And for her good deeds went unto the devil: But, hell not wont to harbour such a guest, Her fellow-fiends do daily make complaint Unto grim Pluto and his lady queen Of her unruly misbehaviour; Entreating that a passport might be drawn For her to wander till the day of doom On earth again, to vex the minds of men, And swore she was the fittest fiend in hell To drive men to desperation. To this intent her passport straight was drawn, And in a whirlwind forth of hell she came: O'er hills she hurls, and scours along the plains; The trees flew up by th'roots, the earth did quake for fear; The houses tumble down; she plays the devil and all: At length, not finding any one so fit To effect her devilish charge as I, She comes to me, as to her only child, And me her instrument on earth she made: And by her means I learn'd that devilish trade.

SOPHOS. O monstrous villain!

FORTUNATUS. But tell me, what's thy course of life, And how thou shift'st for maintenance in the world?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Faith, sir, I am in a manner a promoter, Or (more fitly term'd) a promoting knave; I creep into the presence of great men, And, under colour of their friendships, Effect such wonders in the world, That babes will curse me that are yet unborn. Of the best men I raise a common fame, And honest women rob of their good name: Thus daily tumbling in comes all my thrift; That I get best, is got but by a shift: But the chief course of all my life Is to set discord betwixt man and wife.

FORTUNATUS. Out upon thee, cannibal! [He beats him. Dost thou think thou shalt ever come to heaven?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. I little hope for heav'n or heavenly bliss: But if in hell doth any place remain Of more esteem than is another room, I hope, as guerdon for my just desert, To have it for my detestable acts.

FORTUNATUS. Were't not thy tongue condemns thy guilty soul, I could not think that on this living earth Did breathe a villain more audacious. Go, get thee gone, and come not in my walk; [Beats him. For, if thou dost, thou com'st unto thy woe.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. The devil himself was never conjur'd so. [Exit ROBIN.

SOPHOS. Sure, he's no man, but an incarnate devil, Whose ugly shape bewrays his monstrous mind.

FORTUNATUS. And if he be a devil, I am sure he's gone: But Churms the lawyer will be here anon, And with him comes my sister Lelia; 'Tis he I am sure you look for.

SOPHOS. Nay, she it is that I expect so long.

FORTUNATUS. Then sit we down, until we hear more news, This but a prologue to our play ensues.

[They sit down.

Enter CHURMS and LELIA.

But see where Churms and Lelia comes along: He walks as stately as the great baboon. Zounds, he looks as though his mother were a midwife.

SOPHOS. Now, gentle Jove, great monarch of the world, Grant good success unto my wand'ring hopes.

CHURMS. Now Phoebus' silver eye is drench'd in western deep, And Luna 'gins to show her splendent rays, And all the harmless quiristers of woods Do take repose, save only Philomel; Whose heavy tunes do evermore record With mournful lays the losses of her love. Thus far, fair love, we pass in secret sort Beyond the compass of thy father's bounds, Whilst he on down-soft bed securely sleeps, And not so much as dreams of our depart The dangers pass'd, now think on nought but love; I'll be thy dear, be thou my heart's delight.

SOPHOS. Nay, first I'll send thy soul to coal-black night. [Aside.]

CHURMS. Thou promis'dst love, now seal it with a kiss.

FORTUNATUS. Nay, soft, sir; your mark is at the fairest. Forswear her love, and seal it with a kiss Upon the burnish'd splendour of this blade, Or it shall rip the entrails of thy peasant heart.

SOPHOS. Nay, let me do it, that's my part.

CHURMS. You wrong me much, to rob me of my love.

SOPHOS. Avaunt, base braggard! Lelia's mine.

CHURMS. She lately promis'd love to me.

FORTUNATUS. Peace, night-raven, peace! I'll end this controversy. Come, Lelia, stand between them both, As equal judge to end this strife: Say which of these shall have thee to his wife. I can devise no better way than this. Now choose thy love, and greet him with a kiss.

LELIA. My choice is made, and here it is. [She kisses Sophos.

SOPHOS. See here the mirror of true constancy, Whose steadfast love deserves a prince's worth.

LELIA. Master Churms, are you not well? I must confess I would have chosen you, But that I ne'er beheld your legs till now; Trust me, I never look'd so low before.

CHURMS. I know, you use to look aloft.

LELIA. Yet not so high as your crown.

CHURMS. What, if you had?

LELIA. Faith, I should ha' spied but a calf's head.

CHURMS. Zounds, cosen'd of the wench, and scoff'd at too! 'Tis intolerable; and shall I lose her thus? How it mads me, that I brought not my sword And buckler with me.

FORTUNATUS. What, are you in your sword-and-buckler terms? I'll put you out of that humour. There, Lelia sends you that by me, And that, to recompense your love's desires; And that, as payment for your well-earn'd hire. [Beats him. Go, get thee gone, and boast of Lelia's love.

CHURMS. Where'er I go, I'll leave with her my curse, And rail on you with speeches vild.

FORTUNATUS. A crafty knave was never so beguil'd. Now Sophos' hopes have had their lucky haps, And he enjoys the presence of his love: My vow's perform'd, and I am full reveng'd Upon this hell-bred race of cursed imps. Now rests nought but my father's free consent, To knit the knot that time can ne'er untwist, And that, as this, I likewise will perform. No sooner shall Aurora's pearled dew O'erspread the mantled earth with silver drops, And Phoebus bless the orient with a blush, To chase black night to her deformed cell, But I'll repair unto my father's house, And never cease with my enticing words, To work his will to knit this Gordian knot: Till when I'll leave you to your am'rous chat. Dear friend, adieu; fair sister, too, farewell: Betake yourselves unto some secret place, Until you hear from me how things fall out. [Exit FORTUNATUS.

SOPHOS. We both do wish a fortunate good-night.

LELIA. And pray the gods to guide thy steps aright.

SOPHOS. Now come, fair Lelia, let's betake ourselves Unto a little hermitage hereby, And there to live obscured from the world, Till fates and fortune call us thence away, To see the sunshine of our nuptial day. See how the twinkling stars do hide their borrow'd shine, As half-asham'd their lustre is so stain'd By Lelia's beauteous eyes, that shine more bright Than twinkling stars do in a winter's night— In such a night did Paris win his love.

LELIA. In such a night Aeneas prov'd unkind.

SOPHOS. In such a night did Troilus court his dear.

LELIA. In such a night fair Phillis was betray'd.

SOPHOS. I'll prove as true as ever Troilus was.

LELIA. And I as constant as Penelope.

SOPHOS. Then let us solace, and in love's delight And sweet embracings spend the livelong night; And whilst love mounts her on her wanton wings, Let descant run on music's silver strings.

[Exeunt.

A SONG.

1. Old Triton must forsake his dear, The lark doth chant her cheerful lay; Aurora smiles with merry cheer, To welcome in a happy day.

2. The beasts do skip, The sweet birds sing; The wood-nymphs dance, The echoes ring.

3. The hollow caves with joy resounds, And pleasure ev'rywhere abounds; The Graces, linking hand in hand, In love have knit a glorious band.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW, old PLOD-ALL, and his son PETER.

PLOD-ALL. Hear you, Master Goodfellow, how have you sped?

PETER PLOD-ALL. Ha' you played the devil bravely, and feared the scholar out on's wits?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. A pox of the scholar!

PLOD-ALL. Nay, hark you: I sent you vorty shillings, and you shall have the cheese I promised you too.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. A plague of the vorty shillings, and the cheese too!

PETER PLOD-ALL. Hear you, will you give me the powder you told me of?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. How you vex me! Powder, quotha? zounds, I have been powdered.

PLOD-ALL. Son, I doubt he will prove a crafty knave, and cosen us of our money. We'll go to Master Justice, and complain on him, and get him whipped out o' the country for a coneycatcher.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Ay, or have his ears nailed to the pillory. Come, let's go.

[Exeunt PLOD-ALL and his son.

Enter CHURMS.

CHURMS. Fellow Robin, what news? how goes the world?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Faith, the world goes, I cannot tell how. How sped you with your wench?

CHURMS. I would the wench were at the devil! A plague upon't, I never say my prayers; and that makes me have such ill-luck.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. I think the scholar be hunted with some demi-devil.

CHURMS. Why, didst thou fray him?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Fray him? a vengeance on't! all our shifting knavery's known; we are counted very vagrants. Zounds, I am afraid of every officer for whipping.

CHURMS. We are horribly haunted: our behaviour is so beastly, that we are grown loathsome; our craft gets us nought but knocks.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. What course shall we take now?

CHURMS. Faith, I cannot tell: let's e'en run our country; for here's no staying for us.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Faith, agreed: let's go into some place where we are not known, and there set up the art of knavery with the second edition.

[Exeunt.

Enter GRIPE solus.

GRIPE. Every one tells me I look better than I was wont: my heart's lightened, and my spirits are revived. Why, methinks I am e'en young again. It joys my heart that this same peevish girl, my daughter, will be ruled at the last yet; but I shall never be able to make Master Churms amends for the great pains he hath taken.

Enter NURSE.

NURSE. Master, now out upon's. Well-a-day! we are all undone.

GRIPE. Undone! what sudden accident hath chanced? Speak! what's the matter?

NURSE. Alas! that ever I was born! My mistress and Master Churms are run away together.

GRIPE. 'Tis not possible; ne'er tell me: I dare trust Master Churms with a greater matter than that.

NURSE. Faith, you must trust him, whether you will or no; for he's gone.

Enter WILL CRICKET.

WILL CRICKET. Master Gripe, I was coming to desire that I might have your absence at my wedding; for I hear say you are very liberal grown o' late. For I spake with three or four of your debtors this morning, that ought you hundred pounds a piece; and they told me that you sent Master Churms to them, and took of some ten pounds, and of some twenty, and delivered them their bonds, and bad them pay the rest when they were able.

GRIPE. I am undone, I am robbed! My daughter! my money! Which way are they gone?

WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, it's all to nothing, but your daughter and Master Churms are gone both one way. Marry, your money flies, some one way, and some another; and therefore 'tis but a folly to make hue and cry after it.

GRIPE. Follow them, make hue and cry after them. My daughter! my money! all's gone! what shall I do?

WILL CRICKET. Faith, if you will be ruled by me, I'll tell you what you shall do. Mark what I say; for I'll teach you the way to come to heaven, if you stumble not—give all you have to the poor but one single penny, and with that penny buy you a good strong halter; and when you ha' done so, come to me, and I'll tell you what you shall do with it. [Aside.

GRIPE. Bring me my daughter: that Churms, that villain! I'll tear him with my teeth.

NURSE. Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad: I'll tell you good news; my young Master Fortunatus is come home: and see where he comes.

Enter FORTUNATUS.

GRIPE. If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something.

FORTUNATUS. Thus Fortunatus greets his father, And craves his blessing on his bended knee.

GRIPE. Ay, here's my son; but Lelia she'll not come. Good Fortunatus, rise: wilt thou shed tears, And help thy father moan? If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone.

FORTUNATUS. What moves my father to these uncouth fits?

WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, he's almost mad; I think he cannot tell you: and therefore I—presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this time—do you mark, sir?—out of the profound circumambulation of my supernatural wit, sir—do you understand?—will tell you the whole superfluity of the matter, sir. Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a woman, as another woman is, sir.

FORTUNATUS. Well, and what of that?

WILL CRICKET. Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, wise young man, sir. Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon. Now, sir, to tell you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress Lelia's mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet.

FORTUNATUS. And how then?

WILL CRICKET. Marry then, there was a certain cracking, cogging, pettifogging, butter-milk slave, sir, one Churms, sir, that is the very quintessence of all the knaves in the bunch: and if the best man of all his kin had been but so good as a yeoman's son, he should have been a marked knave by letters patents. And he, sir, comes me sneaking, and cosens them both of their wench, and is run away with her. And, sir, belike, he has cosened your father here of a great deal of his money too.

NURSE. Sir, your father did trust him but too much; but I always thought he would prove a crafty knave.

GRIPE. My trust's betray'd, my joy's exil'd: Grief kills the heart, my hope's beguil'd.

FORTUNATUS. Where golden gain doth blear a father's eyes, That precious pearl, fetch'd from Parnassus' mount, Is counted refuse, worse than bull'on brass; Both joys and hopes hang of a silly twine, That still is subject unto flitting time, That turns joy into grief, and hope to sad despair, And ends his days in wretched worldly care. Were I the richest monarch under heaven, And had one daughter thrice as fair As was the Grecian Menelaus' wife, Ere I would match her to an untaught swain, Though one whose wealth exceeded Croesus' store, Herself should choose, and I applaud her choice Of one more poor than ever Sophos was, Were his deserts but equal unto his. If I might speak without offence, You were to blame to hinder Lelia's choice; As she in nature's graces doth excel, So doth Minerva grace him full as well.

NURSE. Now, by cock and pie, you never spake a truer word in your life. He's a very kind gentleman, for, last time he was at our house, he gave me three-pence.

WILL CRICKET. O, nobly spoken: God send Peg to prove as wise a woman as her mother, and then we shall be sure to have wise children. Nay, if he be so liberal, old grandsire, you shall give him the goodwill of your daughter.

GRIPE. She is not mine, I have no daughter now: That I should say—I had, thence comes my grief. My care of Lelia pass'd a father's love; My love of Lelia makes my loss the more; My loss of Lelia drowns my heart in woe; My heart's woe makes this life a living death: Care, love, loss, heart's woe, living death, Join all in one to stop this vital breath. Curs'd be the time I gap'd for golden gain, I curse the time I cross'd her in her choice; Her choice was virtuous, but my will was base: I sought to grace her from the Indian mines, But she sought honour from the starry mount. What frantic fit possess'd my foolish brain? What furious fancy fired so my heart, To hate fair virtue, and to scorn desert?

FORTUNATUS. Then, father, give desert his due; Let nature's graces and fair virtue's gifts One sympathy and happy consort make 'Twixt Sophos' and my sister Lelia's love: Conjoin their hands, whose hearts have long been one. And so conclude a happy union.

GRIPE. Now 'tis too late: What fates decree can never be recall'd; Her luckless love is fall'n to Churms his lot, And he usurps fair Lelia's nuptial bed.

FORTUNATUS. That cannot be; fear of pursuit Must needs prolong his nuptial rights: But if you give your full consent, That Sophos may enjoy his long-wish'd love, And have fair Lelia to his lovely bride, I'll follow Churms whate'er betide; I'll be as swift as is the light-foot roe, And overtake him ere his journey's end, And bring fair Lelia back unto my friend.

GRIPE. Ay, here's my hand; I do consent, And think her happy in her happy choice; Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv'd. But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend Thy constant mind thou bear'st unto thy friend: The after-ages, wond'ring at the same, Shall say 't's a deed deserveth lasting fame.

FORTUNATUS. Then rest you here, till I return again; I'll go to Sophos, ere I go along, And bring him here to keep you company. Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts, Of planets' course, or secret magic spells, To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid, Whose craft so cunningly convey'd her hence. [Exit FORTUNATUS.

GRIPE. Ay, here I'll rest an hour or twain, Till Fortunatus do return again.

WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding.

GRIPE. Why, what was your case?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, sir, my case was a goose's case; for my dog wearied[163] my neighbour's sow, and the sow died.

NURSE. And he sued you upon wilful murder?

WILL CRICKET. No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his sow, or hang my dog. Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went.

NURSE. To beg a pardon for your dog?

WILL CRICKET. No; but to have some of his wit for my money. I gave him his fee, and promised him a goose beside for his counsel. Now, sir, his counsel was to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I knew the case was plain. So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer.

NURSE. And so the case was yours, and the goose was his: and so it came to be a goose's case.

WILL CRICKET. True: but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam Midnight comes.

Enter MOTHER MIDNIGHT and PEG.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be married to-morrow: let's go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all things in readiness.

PEG. Why, granam, look where he is.

WILL CRICKET. Ha, my sweet tralilly: I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred honest men. A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go. Ha, my sweet and too sweet: shall I say the tother sweet?

PEG. Ay, say it and spare not.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, I will not say it: I will sing it.

Thou art mine own sweetheart, From thee I'll never depart; Thou art my Ciperlillie, And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly: And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, And do the tother thing: And when 'tis done, not miss To give my wench a kiss: And then dance, Canst thou not hit it? Ho, brave William Cricket!

How like you this, granam?

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Marry, God's benison light o' thy good heart for't. Ha, that I were young again! i' faith, I was an old doer at these love-songs when I was a girl.

NURSE. Now, by the Mary matins, Peg, thou hast got the merriest wooer in all womanshire.

PEG. Faith, I am none of those that love nothing but tum, dum, diddle. If he had not been a merry shaver, I would never have had him.

WILL CRICKET.

But come, my nimble lass, Let all these matters pass, And in a bouncing bravation, Let's talk of our copulation.

What good cheer shall we have to-morrow? Old grandsire Thickskin, you that sit there as melancholy as a mantle-tree, what will you give us toward this merry meeting?

GRIPE. Marry, because you told me a merry goose case, I'll bestow a fat goose on ye, and God give you good luck.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Marry, well-said, old master: e'en God give them joy indeed; for, by my vay, they are a good, sweet young couple.

WILL CRICKET. Granam, stand out o' the way; for here come gentlefolk will run o'er you else.

Enter FORTUNATUS, SOPHOS, and LELIA.

NURSE. Master, here comes your son again.

GRIPE. Is Fortunatus there? Welcome, Fortunatus: Where's Sophos?

FORTUNATUS. Here Sophos is, as much o'erworn with love, As you with grief for loss of Lelia.

SOPHOS. And ten times more, if it be possible: The love of Lelia is to me more dear, Than is a kingdom or the richest crown That e'er adorn'd the temples of a king.

GRIPE. Thou welcome, Sophos—thrice more welcome now, Than any man on earth—to me or mine: It is not now with me as late it was; I low'r'd at learning, and at virtue spurn'd: But now my heart and mind, and all, is turn'd. Were Lelia here, I soon would knit the knot 'Twixt her and thee, that time could ne'er untie, Till fatal sisters victory had won, And that your glass of life were quite outrun.

WILL CRICKET. Zounds, I think he be spurblind; why, Lelia stands hard by him.

LELIA. And Lelia here falls prostrate on her knee, And craves a pardon for her late offence.

GRIPE. What, Lelia my daughter? Stand up, wench: Why, now my joy is full; My heart is lighten'd of all sad annoy: Now fare well, grief, and welcome home, my joy.— Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand: Great God of heav'n your hearts combine, In virtue's lore to raise a happy line.

SOPHOS. Now Phaeton hath check'd his fiery steeds, And quench'd his burning beams that late were wont To melt my waxen wings, when as I soar'd aloft; And lovely Venus smiles with fair aspect Upon the spring-time of our sacred love. Thou great commander of the circled orbs, Grant that this league of lasting amity May lie recorded by eternity.

LELIA. Then wish'd content knit up our nuptial right; And future joys our former griefs requite.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, and you be good at that, I'll tell you what we'll do: Peg and I must be married to-morrow; and if you will, we'll go all to the church together, and so save Sir John a labour.

ALL. Agreed.

FORTUNATUS. Then march along, and let's be gone, To solemnise two marriages in one.

[Exeunt omnes.

FINIS.



LINGUA.



EDITIONS.

(1.) Lingva: Or, The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses for Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie, At London Printed by G. Eld, for Simon Waterson, 1607, 4to[165].

(2.) Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by N. Okes, for Simon Waterson, [circa 1610], 4to.

(3.) Lingua; or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for Simon Waterson, 1617, 4to.

(4.) Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for Superiority. A pleasant Comedy. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for Simon Waterson, 1622, 4to.

(5.) Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for Superioritie. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Augustine Matthewes, for Simon Waterson, 1632, 4to.

(6.) Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for Superiority. A pleasant Comoedy. London, Printed for Simon Miller, at the Starre in St Paul's Churchyard, 1657, 8vo.



INTRODUCTION

[Of the author of "Lingua" nothing is known. By some of our earlier bibliographers the play was ascribed, without the slightest authority, to Anthony Brewer.

In the former edition it was pointed out that Winstanley gave to the same writer (among other pieces which he probably did not write) "Pathomachia; or, Love's Loadstone," published in 1630, upon which point Reed observes:—"Whoever was the real author of 'Lingua,' there is some plausibility in assigning to him also 'Pathomachia; or, Love's Lodestone,' for they are certainly written upon the same plan, and very much in the same stile, although the former is considerably superior to the latter, both in design and execution. The first scene of 'Pathomachia' contains an allusion by Pride, one of the characters, to 'Lingua,' where it is said, 'Methinks it were fit now to renew the claim to our old title of Affections, which we have lost, as sometimes Madame Lingua did to the title of a Sense, for it is good fishing in troubled waters.'

"'Pathomachia' was not printed until 1630, and most likely was not written until some years after 'Lingua,' from the allusion it contains in act ii. to the stile of the stage, and the mention in act i. of Coriat, the traveller, who did not become notorious until after the publication of his 'Crudities' in 1611....

"The first edition of 'Lingua' is dated 1607, but from a passage in act iv. sc. 7, it is evident that it was produced before the death of Elizabeth. The last edition, in 1657, is rendered curious by the circumstance that the bookseller, Simon Miller, asserts that it was acted by Oliver Cromwell, the late usurper. This fact is not stated on the title-page to the play, but in a list of works printed for the same stationer, placed at the end of Heath's 'New Book of Loyal Martyrs' [12mo, 1663][166].... Winstanley adds that the late usurper Cromwell [when a young man] had therein the part of Tactus; and this mock ambition for the Crown is said to have swollen his ambition so high, that afterwards he contended for it in earnest...."

The present text is taken from the 4to of 1607.]



PROLOGUE

Our Muse describes no lover's passion, No wretched father, no unthrifty son! No craving, subtle whore or shameless bawd, Nor stubborn clown or daring parasite, No lying servant or bold sycophant. We are not wanton or satirical. These have their time and places fit, but we Sad hours and serious studies to reprieve, Have taught severe Philosophy to smile, The Senses' rash contentions we compose, And give displeas'd ambitious Tongue her due: Here's all; judicious friends, accept what is not ill. Who are not such, let them do what they will.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

LINGUA, Comoedus. Tragoedus. AUDITUS, Comoedus. Tragoedus. MENDACIO, Lingua's page. TACTUS, Odor. OLFACTUS, Tobacco. VISUS, Lumen, Coelum, Terra, Heraldry, Colour. GUSTUS; Bacchus, Ceres, Beer. APPETITUS, a parasite. PHANTASTES. HEURESIS, Phantastes's page. CRAPULA, Gustus's follower. COMMUNIS SENSUS. MEMORIA. ANAMNESTES, Memoria's page. SOMNUS. Personae quarum mentio tantum fit. Psyche, Acrasia, Veritas, Oblivio.

The scene is Microcosmus[167] in a grove. The time from morning till night.



LINGUA.



ACTUS PRIMUS, SCAENA PRIMA.

LINGUA apparelled in a crimson satin gown, a dressing of white roses, a little skene[168] tied in a purple scarf, a pair of white buskins[169] drawn with white ribbon, silk garters, gloves, &c. AUDITUS in a garland of bays intermingled with red and white roses upon a false hair, a cloth of silver mantle upon a pair of satin bases, wrought sleeves, buskins, gloves, &c.

LINGUA, AUDITUS.

LIN. Nay, good Auditus, do but hear me speak.

AUD. Lingua, thou strik'st too much upon one string, Thy tedious plain-song[170] grates my tender ears.

LIN. 'Tis plain indeed, for truth no descant needs; Una's her name, she cannot be divided.

AUD. O, but the ground[171] itself is naught, from whence Thou canst not relish out a good division: Therefore at length surcease, prove not stark-mad, Hopeless to prosecute a hapless suit: For though (perchance) thy first strains pleasing are, I dare engage mine ear the close[172] will jar.

LIN. If then your confidence esteem my cause To be so frivolous and weakly wrought, Why do you daily subtle plots devise, To stop me from the ears of common sense? Whom since our great queen Psyche hath ordain'd, For his sound wisdom, our vice-governor, To him and to his two so wise assistants, Nimble Phantastes and firm Memory, Myself and cause I humbly do commit. Let them but hear and judge; I wish no more.

AUD. Should they but know thy rash presumption, They would correct it in the sharpest sort: Good Jove! what sense hast thou to be a sense! Since from the first foundation of the world, We never were accounted more than five. Yet you, forsooth, an idle prating dame, Would fain increase the number, and upstart To our high seats, decking your babbling self With usurp'd titles of our dignity.

LIN. An idle prating dame! know, fond Auditus, Records affirm my title full as good, As his amongst the five is counted best.

AUD. Lingua, confess the truth: thou'rt wont to lie.

LIN. I say so too, therefore I do not lie. But now, spite of you all, I speak the truth. You five among us subjects tyrannise; Making the sacred name of Common Sense A cloak to cover your enormities: He bears the rule; he's judge, but judgeth still, As he's inform'd by your false evidence: So that a plaintiff cannot have access, But through your gates. He hears, but what? nought else, But what thy crafty ears to him conveys: And all he sees is by proud Visus show'd him: And what he touches is by Tactus' hand; And smells, I know, but through Olfactus' nose; Gustus begins to him whate'er he tastes: By these quaint tricks free passage hath been barr'd, That I could never equally be heard. But well, 'tis well.

AUD. Lingua, thy feeble sex Hath hitherto withheld my ready hands, That long'd to pluck that nimble instrument.

LIN. O horrible ingratitude! that thou— That thou of all the rest should'st threaten me: Who by my means conceiv'st as many tongues, As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his arms: The ancient Hebrew clad with mysteries: The learned Greek rich in fit epithets, Bless'd in the lovely marriage of pure words: The Chaldee wise, th'Arabian physical, The Roman eloquent and Tuscan grave, The braving Spanish and the smooth-tongu'd French: These precious jewels that adorn thine ears, All from my mouth's rich cabinet are stolen. How oft hast thou been chain'd unto my tongue, Hang'd at my lips, and ravish'd with my words; So that a speech fair-feather'd could not fly, But thy ear's pitfall caught it instantly? But now, O heavens!

AUD. O heavens! thou wrong'st me much, Thou wrong'st me much thus falsely to upbraid me: Had not I granted thee the use of hearing, That sharp-edged tongue whetted against her master, Those puffing lungs, those teeth, those drowsy lips, That scalding throat, those nostrils full of ire, Thy palate, proper instrument of speech, Like to the winged chanters of the wood, Uttering nought else but idle sifflements,[173] Tunes without sense, words inarticulate, Had ne'er been able t' have abus'd me thus. Words are thy children, but of my begetting.