+C. Custance.+ No creature hath my faith and trouth but one, That is Gawin Goodlucke: and if it be not hee, He hath no t.i.tle this way what euer he be, Nor I know none to whome I haue such worde spoken.

+M. Mery.+ Ye knowe him not you by his letter and token.

+C. Custance.+ In dede true it is, that a letter I haue, But I neuer reade it yet as G.o.d me saue.

+M. Mery.+ Ye a woman? and your letter so long vnredde.

+C. Custance.+ Ye may therby know what hast I haue to wedde.

But now who it is, for my hande I knowe by gesse.

+M. Mery.+ Ah well I say.

+C. Custance.+ It is Roister Doister doubtlesse.

+M. Mery.+ Will ye neuer leaue this dissimulation?

Ye know hym not.

+C. Custance.+ But by imagination, For no man there is but a very dolt and loute That to wowe a Widowe woulde so go about.

He shall neuer haue me hys wife while he doe liue.

+M. Mery.+ Then will he haue you if he may, so mote I thriue, And he biddeth you sende him worde by me, That ye humbly beseech him, ye may his wife be, And that there shall be no let in you nor mistrust, But to be wedded on sunday next if he l.u.s.t, And biddeth you to looke for him.

+C. Custance.+ Doth he byd so?

+M. Mery.+ When he commeth, aske hym whether he did or no?

+C. Custance.+ Goe say, that I bid him keepe him warme at home For if he come abroade, he shall cough me a mome.

My mynde was vexed, I shrew his head sottish dolt.

+M. Mery.+ He hath in his head.

+C. Custance.+ As much braine as a burbolt.

+M. Mery.+ Well dame Custance, if he heare you thus play choploge.

+C. Custance.+ What will he?

+M. Mery.+ Play the deuill in the horologe.

+C. Custance.+ I defye him loute.

+M. Mery.+ Shall I tell hym what ye say?

+C. Custance.+ Yea and adde what so euer thou canst, I thee pray, And I will auouche it what so euer it bee.

+M. Mery.+ Then let me alone we will laugh well ye shall see, It will not be long ere he will hither resorte.

+C. Custance.+ Let hym come when hym l.u.s.t, I wishe no better sport.

Fare ye well, I will in, and read my great letter.

I shall to my wower make answere the better. _Exeat._

Actus. iij. Scaena. iij.

+Mathew Merygreeke. Roister Doister.+

+M. Mery.+ Nowe that the whole answere in my deuise doth rest, I shall paint out our wower in colours of the best.

And all that I say shall be on Custances mouth, She is author of all that I shall speake forsoth.

But yond commeth Roister Doister nowe in a traunce.

+R. Royster.+ Iuno sende me this day good lucke and good chaunce.

I can not but come see how Merygreeke doth speede.

+M. Mery.+ I will not see him, but giue him a iutte in deede.

I crie your mastershyp mercie.

+R. Royster.+ And whither now?

+M. Mery.+ As fast as I could runne sir in poste against you.

But why speake ye so faintly, or why are ye so sad?

+R. Royster.+ Thou knowest the prouerbe, bycause I can not be had.

Hast thou spoken with this woman?

+M. Mery.+ Yea that I haue.

+R. Royster.+ And what will this geare be?

+M. Mery.+ No so G.o.d me saue.

+R. Royster.+ Hast thou a flat answer?

+M. Mery.+ Nay a sharp answer.

+R. Royster.+ What

+M. Mery.+ Ye shall not (she sayth) by hir will marry hir cat.

Ye are such a calfe, such an a.s.se, such a blocke, Such a lilburne, such a hoball, such a lobc.o.c.ke, And bicause ye shoulde come to hir at no season, She despised your maship out of all reason.

Bawawe what ye say (ko I) of such a ientman, Nay I feare him not (ko she) doe the best he can.

He vaunteth him selfe for a man of prowesse greate, Where as a good gander I dare say may him beate.

And where he is louted and laughed to skorne, For the veriest dolte that euer was borne, And veriest lubber, slouen and beast, Liuing in this worlde from the west to the east: Yet of himselfe hath he suche opinion, That in all the worlde is not the like minion.

He thinketh eche woman to be brought in dotage With the onely sight of his goodly personage: Yet none that will haue hym: we do hym loute and flocke, And make him among vs, our common sporting stocke, And so would I now (ko she) saue onely bicause, Better nay (ko I) I l.u.s.t not medle with dawes.

Ye are happy (ko I) that ye are a woman, This would cost you your life in case ye were a man.

+R. Royster.+ Yea an hundred thousand pound should not saue hir life.

+M. Mery.+ No but that ye wowe hir to haue hir to your wife, But I coulde not stoppe hir mouth.

+R. Royster.+ Heigh how alas,