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+R. Royster.+ Howe dothe sweete Custance, my heart of gold, tell me how?
+M. Mumbl.+ She dothe very well sir, and commaunde me to you.
+R. Royster.+ To me?
+M. Mumbl.+ Yea to you sir.
+R. Royster.+ To me? nurse tel me plain To me?
+M. Mumb.+ Ye.
+R. Royster.+ That word maketh me aliue again.
+M. Mumbl.+ She commaunde me to one last day who ere it was.
+R. Royster.+ That was een to me and none other by the Ma.s.se.
+M. Mumb.+ I can not tell you surely, but one it was.
+R. Royster.+ It was I and none other: this commeth to good pa.s.se.
I promise thee nourse I fauour hir.
+M. Mumb.+ Een so sir.
+R. Royster.+ Bid hir sue to me for mariage.
+M. Mumbl.+ Een so sir.
+R. Royster.+ And surely for thy sake she shall speede.
+M. Mumb.+ Een so sir.
+R. Royster.+ I shall be contented to take hir.
+M. Mumb.+ Een so sir.
+R. Royster.+ But at thy request and for thy sake.
+M. Mumb.+ Een so sir.
+R. Royster.+ And come hearke in thine eare what to say.
+M. Mumb.+ Een so sir.
_Here lette him tell hir a great long tale in hir eare._
Actus. j. Scaena. iiij.
+Mathew Merygreeke. Dobinet Doughtie. Harpax. Ralph Royster.
Margerie Mumblecrust.+
+M. Mery.+ Come on sirs apace, and quite your selues like men, Your pains shalbe rewarded.
+D. Dou.+ But I wot not when.
+M. Mery.+ Do your maister worship as ye haue done in time past.
+D. Dough.+ Speake to them: of mine office he shall haue a cast.
+M. Mery.+ _Harpax_, looke that thou doe well too, and thy fellow.
_Harpax._ I warrant, if he will myne example folowe.
+M. Mery.+ Curtsie whooresons, douke you and crouche at euery worde,
+D. Dough.+ Yes whether our maister speake earnest or borde.
+M. Mery.+ For this lieth vpon his preferment in deede.
+D. Dough.+ Oft is hee a wower, but neuer doth he speede.
+M. Mery.+ But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yond?
+D. Dough.+ With _n.o.bs nicebecetur miserere_ sonde.
+[M.] Mery.+ G.o.d be at your wedding, be ye spedde alredie?
I did not suppose that your loue was so greedie, I perceiue nowe ye haue chose of deuotion, And ioy haue ye ladie of your promotion.
+R. Royster.+ Tushe foole, thou art deceiued, this is not she.
+M. Mery.+ Well mocke muche of hir, and keepe hir well I vise ye.
I will take no charge of such a faire piece keeping.
+M. Mumbl.+ What ayleth thys fellowe? he driueth me to weeping.
+M. Mery.+ What weepe on the weddyng day? be merrie woman, Though I say it, ye haue chose a good gentleman.
+R. Royster.+ k.o.c.ks nownes what meanest thou man, tut a whistle.
+[M. Mery.]+ Ah sir, be good to hir, she is but a gristle, Ah sweete lambe and coney.
+R. Royster.+ Tut thou art deceiued.
+M. Mery.+ Weepe no more lady, ye shall be well receiued.
Vp wyth some mery noyse sirs, to bring home the bride.
+R. Royster.+ Gogs armes knaue, art thou madde?
I tel thee thou art wide.
