A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
English drama
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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