Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast.
Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck?
WILL CRICKET.
Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber?
Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on
him.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here?
WILL CRICKET. A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master
Churms the lawyer to-day?
WILL CRICKET.
No, sir; would you speak with him?
ROBIN GOODFELLOW.
Ay, marry, would I.
WILL CRICKET.
If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him.