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?