SIMPLICITY. No, you may be maddle-coddle.[236] Well, here's three passing fine lads, if a man were able to keep them all. Let me see: Wealth! O, that's a sweet lad: then Wit! O, that's a fine lad: Will: O, that's a pretty lad. Will, Wit, and Wealth, God lend ye health. I would I could guile their masters of two of them. If I had Fraud here, that served Lady Lucre, he would teach me: he would teach me to 'tice one of them from his master. Which of them, now, if a man should steal one? Will? nay, I care not for Will, outsep[237] he be good-will. Wit? a pretty child, but a man cannot live by wit. Wealth? Yea, marry, sir, I would I could win that Wealth, for then I need neither Will nor Wit; nor I need sell no ballads, but live like a mouse in a mill, and have another to grind my meal for me. I'll have a fling at one of them anon. WEALTH. Do you not forget yourself, gaffer? WIT. Have ye not wares to sell, gaffer? WILL. When do you show, gaffer? SIMPLICITY. Well-rememb'red, pretty lad: ye may see children can teach old folks. I am an unthrift, indeed. Well, my wares shall out now. But, sirs, how sell you your wares? How many of these for a groat? WEALTH. Our wares are not to be sold. SIMPLICITY. Not for silver nor gold? Why hang they, then, in the open market? WILL. To be seen, not bought. SIMPLICITY. Then they are like ripe plums upon a rich man's tree, that set men's teeth a-watering, when they are not to be bought. But what call you these things? WIT. Scutcheons. SIMPLICITY. Cushions? Alas! it were pity to sit on such fine cushions. But come, my boys, if you'll buy any of my wares, here's my stall, and I'll open and show straight. WEALTH. What dainty fine ballad have you now to be sold? SIMPLICITY. Marry, child, I have _Chipping-Norton, a mile from Chapel o' th' Heath --a lamentable ballad of burning the Pope's dog; the sweet ballad of the Lincolnshire bagpipes_[238]; and _Peggy and Willy:--But now he is dead and gone: Mine own sweet Willy is laid in his grave. La, la, la, lan ti dan derry, dan da dan, lan ti dan, dan tan derry, dan do_. WIT. It is a doleful discourse, and sung as dolefully. SIMPLICITY. Why, you cannot mend it, can ye? WIT. What will you lay on that? for I myself dare lay six groats to six of your bald ballads, that you yourself shall say I sing better than you. SIMPLICITY. What a brag-boy is this, to comparison with a man! But, boy, boy, I will not lay six ballads to six groats, but I will lay six ballads to six jerks at your buttocks, that you shall not sing so well as I. WIT. That I shall not? No! possible, you will not let me sing? SIMPLICITY. I not let you! Is that spoken like Wit? It is spoken like a woodcock: how can I stay thee, if thou wilt sing out thy throat? WIT. Well, then, to our bargain: six ballads to six stripes, and who shall keep stakes? SIMPLICITY. Neither of your companions; for that's, ask my fellow, if I be a thief. WILL. Will you keep the stakes yourself?