A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09 · Chapter 22Wily Beguiled.[140] (4)
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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.
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.
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?