CHURMS. Farewell, fair love, until we meet again.  Why so:  did I not tell you she would be glad to run away with me at length?  Why, this falls out, e’en as a man would say, thus I would have it.  But now I must go cast about for some money too.  Let me see, I have outlawed three or four of Gripe’s debtors; and I have the bonds in mine own hands.  The sum that is due to him is some two or three hundred pounds.  Well, I’ll to them; if I can get but one half, I’ll deliver them their bonds, and leave the other half to their own consciences:  and so I shall be sure to get money to bear charges.  When all fails, well fare a good wit!  But soft; no more of that.  Here comes Master Gripe.

    Enter GRIPE.

GRIPE. 
What, Master Churms? what, all alone?  How fares your body?

CHURMS.
Faith, sir, reasonable well:  I am e’en walking here to take the
fresh air.

GRIPE.  ’Tis very wholesome, this fair weather.  But, Master Churms, how like you my daughter?  Can you do any good on her?  Will she be ruled yet?  How stands she affected to Peter Plod-all?

CHURMS. O, very well, sir; I have made her very conformable.  O, let me alone to persuade a woman.  I hope you shall see her married within this week at most,—­(Aside) I mean to myself.

GRIPE.  Master Churms, I am so exceedingly beholding to you, I cannot tell how I shall requite your kindness.  But, i’ the meantime, here’s a brace of angels for you to drink for your pains.  This news hath e’en lightened my heart.  O sir, my neighbour Plod-all is very wealthy.  Come, Master Churms, you shall go home with me:  we’ll have good cheer, and be merry for this to-night, i’ faith.

CHURMS.
Well, let them laugh that win. [Aside.  Exeunt.

    Enter PEG and her GRANAM.

PEG.  Granam, give me but two crowns of red gold, and I’ll give you twopence of white silver, if Robin the devil be not a water-witch.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. 
Marry, Jesus bless us! why, prythee?

PEG.  Marry, I’ll tell you why.  Upon the morrow after the blessed new year, I came trip, trip, trip, over the market hill, holding up my petticoat to the calves of my legs, to show my fine coloured stockings, and how finely I could foot it in a pair of new corked shoes I had bought; and there I spied this Monsieur Muffe lie gaping up into the skies, to know how many maids would be with child in the town all the year after.  O, ’tis a base vexation slave!  How the country talks of the large-ribbed varlet!

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.  Marry, out upon him.  What a Friday-faced slave it is:  I think in my conscience, his face never keeps holiday.

PEG.  Why, his face can never be at quiet.  He has such a choleric nose, I durst ha’ sworn by my maidenhead (God forgive me, that I should take such an oath), that if William had had such a nose, I would never ha’ loved him.