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.

PETER PLOD-ALL.  Let him alone, Peter; I’ll temper him well enough.  Sirrah, I hear say, you must be married shortly.  I’ll make you pay a sweet fine for your house for this.  Ha, sirrah! am not I your landlord?

WILL CRICKET. 
Yes, for fault of a better; but you get neither sweet fine nor sour
fine of me.

PLOD-ALL. 
My masters, I pray you bear witness I do discharge him then.

WILL CRICKET.  My masters, I pray you bear witness my landlord has given me a general discharge.  I’ll be married presently.  My fine’s paid; I have a discharge for it. [He offers to go away.

PLOD-ALL. 
Nay, prythee, stay.

WILL CRICKET. 
No, I’ll not stay.  I’ll go call the clerk.  I’ll be cried out upon i’ the
church presently.  What, ho! what, clerk, I say? where are you?

    Enter CLERK.

CLERK. 
Who calls me? what would you with me?

WILL CRICKET.  Marry, sir, I would have you to make proclamation that, if any manner of man, o’ the town or the country, can lay any claim to Peg Pudding, let him bring word to the crier, or else William Cricket will wipe his nose of her.