CHURMS.
Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts:  I would you had your principal.

GRIPE. 
Nay, I’ll have all, or I’ll imprison their bodies.  But, Master Churms,
there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret.

CHURMS.
O sir, fear not that; I’ll warrant you.

GRIPE.  Why then, this it is:  my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow all that he has.  Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and him.  What think you of it?

CHURMS.
Marry, I think ’twould be a good match.  But the young man has had very
simple bringing-up.

GRIPE.  Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my daughter has bringing up will serve them both.  Now I would have you to write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I’ll please you for your pains.

CHURMS.
I’ll warrant you, sir; I’ll do it artificially.

GRIPE.  Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret.  I have some business this morning, and therefore I’ll leave you a while; and if you will come to dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome.

CHURMS. Thanks, good sir; I’ll trouble you. [Exit GRIPE.] Now ’twere a good jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench for myself.  Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all:  and though his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to fetch that I have.  I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a coneycatcher:  for I’ll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of his daughter; I’ll cast about, I’ll warrant him:  I’ll go dine with him, and write him his letter; and then I’ll go seek out my kind companion Robin Goodfellow:  and, betwixt us, we’ll make her yield to anything.  We’ll ha’ the common law o’ the one hand, and the civil law o’ the other:  we’ll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [Exit.

    Enter old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER, an OLD MAN,
    Plod-all’s tenant, and WILL CRICKET, his son.

PLOD-ALL.  Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by’r Lady:  thrice at thy house, and never at home?  You know my mind:  will you give ten shillings more rent?  I must discharge you else.

OLD MAN.  Alas! landlord, will you undo me!  I sit of a great rent already, and am very poor.

WILL CRICKET.  Very poor? you’re a very ass.  Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same word very poor!  Father, if you love your son William, never name that same word, very poor; for, I’ll stand to it, that it’s petty larceny to name very poor to a man that’s o’ the top of his marriage.

OLD MAN. 
Why, son, art o’ the top of thy marriage?  To whom, I prythee?