GRIPE. 
Ay, here’s my hand; I do consent,
And think her happy in her happy choice;
Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv’d. 
But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend
Thy constant mind thou bear’st unto thy friend: 
The after-ages, wond’ring at the same,
Shall say ’t’s a deed deserveth lasting fame.

FORTUNATUS. 
Then rest you here, till I return again;
I’ll go to Sophos, ere I go along,
And bring him here to keep you company. 
Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts,
Of planets’ course, or secret magic spells,
To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid,
Whose craft so cunningly convey’d her hence.
                           [Exit FORTUNATUS.

GRIPE. 
Ay, here I’ll rest an hour or twain,
Till Fortunatus do return again.

WILL CRICKET. 
Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a
case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding.

GRIPE. 
Why, what was your case?

WILL CRICKET. 
Marry, sir, my case was a goose’s case; for my dog wearied[163] my
neighbour’s sow, and the sow died.

NURSE. 
And he sued you upon wilful murder?

WILL CRICKET. 
No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his
sow, or hang my dog.  Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went.

NURSE. 
To beg a pardon for your dog?

WILL CRICKET.  No; but to have some of his wit for my money.  I gave him his fee, and promised him a goose beside for his counsel.  Now, sir, his counsel was to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I knew the case was plain.  So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer.

NURSE. 
And so the case was yours, and the goose was his:  and so it came to be a
goose’s case.

WILL CRICKET. 
True:  but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam
Midnight comes.

    Enter MOTHER MIDNIGHT and PEG.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.  Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be married to-morrow:  let’s go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all things in readiness.

PEG. 
Why, granam, look where he is.

WILL CRICKET.  Ha, my sweet tralilly:  I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred honest men.  A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go.  Ha, my sweet and too sweet:  shall I say the tother sweet?

PEG. 
Ay, say it and spare not.

WILL CRICKET. 
Nay, I will not say it:  I will sing it.

Thou art mine own sweetheart, From thee I’ll never depart; Thou art my Ciperlillie, And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly:  And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, And do the tother thing:  And when ’tis done, not miss To give my wench a kiss:  And then dance, Canst thou not hit it? Ho, brave William Cricket!

How like you this, granam?