now I see y'are a man of your word.

WILL CRICKET.
A man o' my word, quotha? why, I ne'er broke promise in my life that
I kept.

PEG.
No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me.

WILL CRICKET.
Dost hear, Peg? if e'er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember
thee.

PEG.
Peace! here comes my granam Midnight.

_Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art
thou, trow?

PEG.
Here, granam, at your elbow.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
What mak'st thou here this twatter light? I think thou'rt in a dream;
I think the fool haunts thee.

WILL CRICKET.
Zounds, fool in your face! Fool? O monstrous intitulation. Fool? O,
disgrace to my person. Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a
cold rasher, I can tell you. Give me but such another word, and I'll be
thy tooth-drawer--even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou!

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they
be old and testy, hot and hasty. Set not your wit against mine, William;
for I thought you no harm, by my troth.

WILL CRICKET.
Well, your good words have something laid my choler. But, granam, shall
I be so bold to come to your house now and then to keep Peg company?

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
Ay, and beshrew thy good heart, and thou dost not. Come, and we'll have
a piece of a barley bag-pudding or something, and thou shalt be very
heartily welcome, that thou shalt, and Peg shall bid thee welcome too.
Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for, by my vay,
he's a good proper springal.[146]

PEG.
Granam, if you did but see him dance, 'twould do your heart good. Lord!
'twould make anybody love him, to see how finely he'll foot it.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.
William, prythee, go home to my house with us, and take a cup of our
beer, and learn to know the way again another time.

WILL CRICKET.
Come on, granam. I'll man you home, i' faith.
Come, Peg.
[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _and_
CHURMS _the lawyer_.

PLOD-ALL.
Come hither, Peter; hold up your head.
Where's your cap and leg, sir boy, ha?

PETER PLOD-ALL.
By your leave, Master Gripe.

GRIPE.
Welcome, Peter; give me thy hand: thou'rt welcome. By'r Lady, this is a
good, proper, tall fellow, neighbour; call you him a boy?

PLOD-ALL.
A good, pretty, square springal,[147] sir.

GRIPE.
Peter, you have s