GRIPE. 
I am undone, I am robbed!  My daughter! my money!  Which way are they
gone?

WILL CRICKET.  Faith, sir, it’s all to nothing, but your daughter and Master Churms are gone both one way.  Marry, your money flies, some one way, and some another; and therefore ’tis but a folly to make hue and cry after it.

GRIPE. 
Follow them, make hue and cry after them.  My daughter! my money! all’s
gone! what shall I do?

WILL CRICKET.  Faith, if you will be ruled by me, I’ll tell you what you shall do.  Mark what I say; for I’ll teach you the way to come to heaven, if you stumble not—­give all you have to the poor but one single penny, and with that penny buy you a good strong halter; and when you ha’ done so, come to me, and I’ll tell you what you shall do with it. [Aside.

GRIPE. 
Bring me my daughter:  that Churms, that villain!  I’ll tear him with my
teeth.

NURSE. 
Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad:  I’ll tell you good news; my young
Master Fortunatus is come home:  and see where he comes.

    Enter FORTUNATUS.

GRIPE. 
If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something.

FORTUNATUS. 
Thus Fortunatus greets his father,
And craves his blessing on his bended knee.

GRIPE. 
Ay, here’s my son; but Lelia she’ll not come. 
Good Fortunatus, rise:  wilt thou shed tears,
And help thy father moan? 
If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone.

FORTUNATUS. 
What moves my father to these uncouth fits?

WILL CRICKET.  Faith, sir, he’s almost mad; I think he cannot tell you:  and therefore I—­presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this time—­do you mark, sir?—­out of the profound circumambulation of my supernatural wit, sir—­do you understand?—­will tell you the whole superfluity of the matter, sir.  Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a woman, as another woman is, sir.

FORTUNATUS. 
Well, and what of that?

WILL CRICKET.  Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, wise young man, sir.  Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon.  Now, sir, to tell you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress Lelia’s mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet.

FORTUNATUS. 
And how then?

WILL CRICKET.  Marry then, there was a certain cracking, cogging, pettifogging, butter-milk slave, sir, one Churms, sir, that is the very quintessence of all the knaves in the bunch:  and if the best man of all his kin had been but so good as a yeoman’s son, he should have been a marked knave by letters patents.  And he, sir, comes me sneaking, and cosens them both of their wench, and is run away with her.  And, sir, belike, he has cosened your father here of a great deal of his money too.