, Master Parson, grief hath made my heart and me a pair of
balance, as heavy as lead. Every night I dream I am a town top, and that
I am whipped up and down with the scourge-stick of love and the metal of
affection; and when I wake,[442] I find myself stark naked, and as cold
as a stone. Now judge how I am tumbled and tossed; poor Grim the collier
hath wished himself burnt up amongst his coals.

SHO. O Grim! be wise, dream not of love,
Thy sorrows cannot fancy move:
If Jug love thee, love her again;
If not, thy kindness then refrain.

GRIM. I am not skilled in your rhyming. Master Parson; but that which is
bred in the flesh will never come out of the bone. I have seen as much
as another man; my travel should teach me. There's never a day in the
week but I carry coals from Croydon to London; and now, when I rise in
the morning to harness my horses, and load my cart, methinks I have a
tailor sewing stitches in my heart: when I am driving my cart, my heart
that wanders one way, my eyes they leer another, my feet they lead me, I
know not whither, but now and then into a slough over head and ears; so
that poor Grim, that before was over shoes in love, is now over head and
ears in dirt and mire.

SHO. Well, Grim, my counsel shall suffice
To help thee; but in any wise
Be rul'd by me, and thou shalt see,
As thou lov'st her, she shall love thee.

GRIM. A lard![443] but do you think that will be so? I should laugh till
I tickle to see that day, and forswear sleep all the next night after. O
Master Parson, I am so haltered in affection, that I may tell you in
secret, [since] here's nobody else hears me, I take no care how I fill my
sacks. Every time I come to London, my coals are found faulty; I have
been five times pilloried, my coals given to the poor, and my sacks burnt
before my face. It were a shame to speak this, but truth will come to
light. O Joan! thou hast thrown the coal-dust of thy love into my eyes,
and stricken me quite blind.

SHO. Now, afore God, the collier chooseth well;
For beauty Jug doth bear away the bell,
And I love her: then, collier, thou must miss,
For Parson Shorthose vows, Jug shall be his. [_Aside_.]
But hear'st thou, Grim, I have that in my head,
To plot that how thou shalt the maiden wed.

GRIM. But are you sure you have that in your head? O, for a hammer to
knock that out! one blow at your pate would lay all open to me, and make
me as wise as you.

SHO. Think'st thou I do so often loo