TIB TALK. Ah, each finger is a thumb to-day, me-think: I care not to let all alone, choose it swim or sink. They sing the fourth time. _Pipe, merry Annot, &c._ _Trilla, Trilla, Trillary._ _When, Tibbet? when, Annot? when, Margery?_ _I will not,--I can not,--no more can I._ _Then give we all over, and there let it lie!_ [_Let her cast down her work._ TIB. TALK. There it lieth! the worst is but a curried coat. Tut, I am used thereto: I care not a groat. AN. ALYFACE. Have we done singing since? then will I in again: Here I found you, and here I leave both twain. [_Exeat._ M. MUMBL. And I will not be long after. Tib. Talkapace! [_She discovers R. Roister Doister._ TIB. TALK. What is the matter? M. MUMBL. Yond stood a man all this space, And hath heard all that ever we spake together. TIB. TALK. Marry, the more lout he for his coming hither, And the less good he can to listen maidens talk. I care not, and I go bid him hence for to walk: It were well done to know what he maketh here-away. R. ROISTER. Now might I speak to them, if I wist what to say. [_Aside._ M. MUMBL. Nay, we will go both of's, and see what he is. R. ROISTER (_coming forward_). One that heard all your talk and singing, i-wis. TIB. TALK. The more to blame you: a good thrifty husband Would elsewhere have had some better matters in hand. R. ROISTER. I did it for no harm; but for good love I bear To your dame Mistress Custance I did your talk hear. And, mistress nurse, I will kiss you for acquaintance. M. MUMBL. I come anon, sir. TIB. TALK. Faith, I would our dame Custance Saw this gear. M. MUMBL. I must first wipe all clean, yea, I must. TIB. TALK. Ill 'chieve it, doting fool, but it must be cust. M. MUMBL. God 'ield you, sir; chad not so much, i-chotte not when: Ne'er since chwas born, chwine,[73] of such a gay gentleman. R. ROISTER. I will kiss you too, maiden, for the good will I bear ye. TIB. TALK. No, forsooth, by your leave, ye shall not kiss me. R. ROISTER. Yes, be not afeard; I do not disdain you a whit. TIB. TALK. Why should I fear you? I have not so little wit; Ye are but a man, I know very well. R. ROISTER. Why, then? TIB. TALK. Forsooth, for I will not: I use not to kiss men. R. ROISTER. I would fain kiss you too, good maiden, if I might. TIB. TALK. What should that need? R. ROISTER. But to honour you, by this light. I use to kiss all them that I love, to God I vow. TIB. TALK. Yea, sir? I pray you, when did ye last kiss your cow? R. ROISTER. Ye might be proud to kiss me, if ye were wise. TIB. TALK. What promotion were therein? R. ROISTER. Nurse is not so nice.