NURSE.
Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad: I'll tell you good news; my young
Master Fortunatus is come home: and see where he comes.
Enter FORTUNATUS.
GRIPE.
If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something.
FORTUNATUS.
Thus Fortunatus greets his father,
And craves his blessing on his bended knee.
GRIPE.
Ay, here's my son; but Lelia she'll not come.
Good Fortunatus, rise: wilt thou shed tears,
And help thy father moan?
If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone.
FORTUNATUS.
What moves my father to these uncouth fits?
WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, he's almost mad; I think he cannot tell you: and therefore I—presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this time—do you mark, sir?—out of the profound circumambulation of my supernatural wit, sir—do you understand?—will tell you the whole superfluity of the matter, sir. Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a woman, as another woman is, sir.
FORTUNATUS.
Well, and what of that?
WILL CRICKET. Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, wise young man, sir. Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon. Now, sir, to tell you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress Lelia's mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet.
FORTUNATUS.
And how then?