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.