A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09 · Chapter 19Wily Beguiled.[140] (1)
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Enter GRIPE, solus.
A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by sea and by land, and bid—Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the hundred. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two children in all the world to bestow my goods upon—Fortunatus, my son, and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all hard by has but one only son; and let me see—I take it, his lands are better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together—O, 'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much.
Enter CHURMS.
CHURMS. Good morrow, Master Gripe.
GRIPE. O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit?
CHURMS. Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal.
GRIPE. Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret.
CHURMS. O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you.
GRIPE. Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and him. What think you of it?
CHURMS. Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very simple bringing-up.
GRIPE. Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll please you for your pains.
CHURMS. I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially.
GRIPE. Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome.
CHURMS. Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [Exit GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [Exit.
Enter old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER, an OLD MAN, Plod-all's tenant, and WILL CRICKET, his son.
PLOD-ALL. Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must discharge you else.
OLD MAN. Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am very poor.
WILL CRICKET. Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same word very poor! Father, if you love your son William, never name that same word, very poor; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny to name very poor to a man that's o' the top of his marriage.
OLD MAN. Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee?
WILL CRICKET. Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe—
For she will so heel it, And toe it, and trip it;— O, her buttocks will quake like a custard.
PETER PLOD-ALL. Why, William, when were you with her?
WILL CRICKET. O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. Come, father, let's be gone.
[Exeunt WILL and his father.
PLOD-ALL. Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every cross, income and rent too.
Enter CHURMS with a letter.
But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll not pay.
CHURMS. Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them with a habeas corpus.
PLOD-ALL. Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please you. But what news abroad?
CHURMS. Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered.
PLOD-ALL. Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it.
[Exeunt PLOD-ALL and his son. Manet CHURMS.
CHURMS. Thus men of reach must look to live: I cry content, and murder where I kiss. Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend To every enterprise he takes in hand, As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: But damn me if they find it so. All this makes for my [own] avail; I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail.
Enter LELIA and NURSE, gathering of flowers.
LELIA. See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: A crown of roses shall adorn my head, I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time.
NURSE. Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; 'twould cool you.
LELIA. Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me.
NURSE. Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith.
LELIA. A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one.
NURSE. A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you.
LELIA. No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart?
NURSE. Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you.
LELIA. Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie.
NURSE. Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody.
Enter SOPHOS.
SOPHOS. Optatis non est spes ulla potiri. Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss Do turn the plains into a standing pool. Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: O, let the sacred centre of my heart— I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work— Be once again the object to mine eyes. O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: Her father he obscures her from my sight, He pleads my want of wealth, And says it is a bar in Venus' court. How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, That love, the only loadstar of my life, Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. But stay: What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy.
LELIA. Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince Aeneas landed on the sandy shores Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance.
SOPHOS. And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me Unto the place where I might see my dear, As dear to me as is the dearest life.
NURSE. Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend.
SOPHOS. Yet fortune favours fools.
NURSE. By that conclusion you should not be wise. [Aside.
LELIA. Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair.
SOPHOS. 'Tis then to show her mutability: But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: Since then, there fits for love both time and place, Let love and liking hand in hand embrace.
NURSE. Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have but one fault—I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry Fie, fie; and that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind with come-agains.
SOPHOS. But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love?
LELIA. Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, And with this hand receive a loyal heart. High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, Grant to our love a wish'd felicity!
SOPHOS. As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, To summon him to his desired rest; Or as the poor distressed mariner, Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd.
LELIA. My father recks not virtue, But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, And better likes of learning's sacred lore, Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill To please my father, and compass his goodwill.
SOPHOS. To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: But, were that venture harder to atchieve Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts.
NURSE. How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake.
LELIA. Thanks, gentle love: But, lest my father should suspect— Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use— I'll in, and leave you here alone. Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. Come, nurse, follow me.
[Exeunt LELIA and NURSE.
SOPHOS. Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] Well, I'll try my fortunes; And find out some convenient time, When as her father's leisure best shall serve To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. [Exit SOPHOS.
Enter GRIPE, old PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, and WILL CRICKET.
GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done sowing barley, I am sure?
PLOD-ALL. Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since.
GRIPE. Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet?
CHURMS. Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else.
GRIPE. Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money.
PLOD-ALL. Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent.
WILL CRICKET. This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'—
PLOD-ALL. What wouldst ha' done?
WILL CRICKET. I would have had a snatch at you, that I would.
CHURMS. What, art a dog?
WILL CRICKET. No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone.
GRIPE. Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends.
WILL CRICKET. Would you have a sack, sir?
GRIPE. Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink.
WILL CRICKET. O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks.
GRIPE. Away, fool; get thee in, I say.
WILL CRICKET. Into the buttery, you mean?
GRIPE. I prythee, do.
WILL CRICKET. I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [Aside. Exit.]
GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like you of the motion?
PLOD-ALL. Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, by'r Lady, we think it good fare too.
GRIPE. Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not?
PLOD-ALL. Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon.
GRIPE. You say well.
Enter WILL CRICKET and a boy, with wine and a napkin.
WILL CRICKET. Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain.
GRIPE. Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [He fills them wine, and gives them the napkin.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink to you.
BOTH. We thank you, sir.
WILL CRICKET. Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember?
CHURMS. Remember? why?
WILL CRICKET. Why, since you know when.
CHURMS. Since when?
WILL CRICKET. Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully rayed—
GRIPE. Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? shall it go forward?
PLOD-ALL. Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, he's very simple.
GRIPE. My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, man, is't a match?
PLOD-ALL. Faith, I agree.
CHURMS. But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some part of his land conveyed to her by jointure?
GRIPE. Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance.
PLOD-ALL. Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your pains.
WILL CRICKET. Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [Aside.
CHURMS. Sir, I will do the best I can.
WILL CRICKET. But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I can tell you, he loves her well.
GRIPE. Nay, I trow.
WILL CRICKET. Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in her closet.
GRIPE. But I am sure she loves him not.
WILL CRICKET. Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and 'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little logic and Pitome colloquium they'll make a wench do anything. Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a man as a wench can see in a summer's day.
GRIPE. Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well. He's a scholar, forsooth—one that hath more wit than money—and I like not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars without money?
PLOD-ALL. Faith, e'en like puddings without suet.
GRIPE. Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house presently.
[Exit GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, and CHURMS.
A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap (do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg.
Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow;
Whose eyes do shine, Like bacon-rine; Whose lips are blue, Of azure hue;
Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast.
Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck?
WILL CRICKET. Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber? Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on him.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here?
WILL CRICKET. A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master Churms the lawyer to-day?
WILL CRICKET. No, sir; would you speak with him?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Ay, marry, would I.
WILL CRICKET. If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him?
WILL CRICKET. Marry, you, sir.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. I? who am I?
WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, I know not.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him.
WILL CRICKET. O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms.
Enter CHURMS.
CHURMS. Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every alehouse in the town.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I see you.
CHURMS. Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a double fee to you, by the Lord.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone.
CHURMS. Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her love—one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, Si nihil attuleris, &c.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. And wherein can I do you any good in this?
CHURMS. Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has acquainted me with her love to him, and for Because her father much suspects the same, He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight. I'll say, because she doth repose more trust Of secrecy in me than in another man, In courtesy she hath requested me To do her kindest greetings to her love.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. An excellent device, i' faith!
CHURMS. Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less. Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this action?
CHURMS. Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia myself.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly.
CHURMS. Tut! he's out of the country; he follows the drum and the flag. He may chance to be killed with a double cannon before he come home again. But what's your device?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Marry, I'll do this: I'll frame an indictment against Sophos in manner and form of a rape, and the next law-day you shall prefer it, that so Lelia may loath him, her father still deadly hate him, and the young gallant her brother utterly forsake him.
CHURMS. But how shall we prove it?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Zounds, we'll hire some strumpet or other to be sworn against him.
CHURMS. Now, by the substance of my soul, 'tis an excellent device. Well, let's in. I'll first try my cunning otherwise, and if all fail, we'll try this conclusion. [Exeunt.
Enter MOTHER MIDNIGHT, NURSE, and PEG.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Y'faith, Marget, you must e'en take your daughter Peg home again, for she'll not be ruled by me.
NURSE. Why, mother, what will she not do?
MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Faith, she neither did, nor does, nor will do anything. Send her to the market with eggs, she'll sell them, and spend the money. Send her to make a pudding, she'll put in no suet. She'll run out o' nights a-dancing, and come no more home till day-peep. Bid her come to bed, she'll come when she list. Ah, 'tis a nasty shame to see her bringing-up.
NURSE. Out, you rogue! you arrant, &c. What, knowest not thy granam?
PEG. I know her to be a testy old fool; She's never well, but grunting in a corner.
MOTHER MIDNIGHT. Nay, she'll camp, I warrant ye. O, she has a tongue! But, Marget, e'en take her home to your mistress, and there keep her, for I'll keep her no longer.
NURSE. Mother, pray ye, take ye some pains with her, and keep her awhile longer, and if she do not mend, I'll beat her black and blue. I' faith, I'll not fail you, minion.