husband; you ha' done
sowing barley, I am sure?

PLOD-ALL.
Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since.

GRIPE.
Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet?

CHURMS.
Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear
them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else.

GRIPE.
Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money.

PLOD-ALL.
Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his
father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent.

WILL CRICKET.
This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling,
brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name.
Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes,
calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top,
and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'--

PLOD-ALL.
What wouldst ha' done?

WILL CRICKET.
I would have had a snatch at you, that I would.

CHURMS.
What, art a dog?

WILL CRICKET.
No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and
so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone.

GRIPE.
Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and
bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends.

WILL CRICKET.
Would you have a sack, sir?

GRIPE.
Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink.

WILL CRICKET.
O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking
cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks.

GRIPE.
Away, fool; get thee in, I say.

WILL CRICKET.
Into the buttery, you mean?

GRIPE.
I prythee, do.

WILL CRICKET.
I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [_Aside. Exit_.]

GRIPE.
Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like
you of the motion?

PLOD-ALL.
Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the
stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath
something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may
beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought
him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and,
by'r Lady, we think it good fare too.

GRIPE.
Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make
him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not?

PLOD-ALL.
Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon.

GRIPE.
You say well.

_Enter_ WILL CRICKET