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?

WILL CRICKET.
Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the
dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe--

For she will so heel it,
And toe it, and trip it;--
O, her buttocks will quake like a custard.

PETER PLOD-ALL.
Why, William, when were you with her?

WILL CRICKET.
O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but
I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and
that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk
of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and
if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my
house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more
rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury.
Come, father, let's be gone.

[_Exeunt_ WILL _and his father_.

PLOD-ALL.
Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every
cross, income and rent too.

_Enter_ CHURMS _with a letter_.

But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me
some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved
for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll
not pay.

CHURMS.
Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them
with a _habeas corpus_.

PLOD-ALL.
Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please
you. But what news abroad?

CHURMS.
Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to
deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier
of letters, yet, not knowi