M. MERRY. Else were I much to blame. I thank your mastership; The Lord one day all to begrime you with worship. Back, Sir Sauce! let gentlefolks have elbow-room. 'Void, sirs, see ye not Master Roister Doister come? Make place, my masters-- R. ROISTER. Thou jostlest now too nigh. M. MERRY. Back, all rude louts. R. ROISTER. Tush. M. MERRY. I cry your maship mercy. Hoiday! if fair fine Mistress Custance saw you now, Ralph Roister Doister were her own, I warrant you. R. ROISTER. Ne'er a _master_ by your girdle? M. MERRY. Your good Mastership's Mastership were her own mistresship's mistresship's. Ye were take up for hawks; ye were gone, ye were gone: But now one other thing more yet I think upon. R. ROISTER. Show what it is. M. MERRY. A wooer, be he never so poor, Must play and sing before his best-beloved's door. How much more then you? R. ROISTER. Thou speakest well, out of doubt. And perchance that would make her the sooner come out.[120] Go call my musicians; bid them hie apace. M. MERRY. I will be here with them, ere ye can say _trey ace_. [_Exeat._ R. ROISTER. This was well said of Merrygreek, I 'low his wit, Before my sweetheart's door we will have a fit, That, if my love come forth, I may with her talk: I doubt not but this gear shall on my side walk. But lo! how well Merrygreek is returned since. M. MERRY.[121] There hath grown no grass on my heel, since I went hence: Lo! here have I brought that shall make you pastance. R. ROISTER. Come, sirs, let us sing, to win my dear love Custance. [_Cantent._[122] M. MERRY. Lo, where she cometh! some countenance to her make; And ye shall hear me be plain with her for your sake. ACTUS III., SCÆNA 4. CUSTANCE, MERRYGREEK, ROISTER DOISTER. C. CUSTANCE. What gauding and fooling is this afore my door? M. MERRY. May not folks be honest, pray you, though they be poor? C. CUSTANCE. As that thing may be true, so rich folks may be fools. R. ROISTER. Her talk is as fine as she had learned in schools. M. MERRY. Look partly toward her, and draw a little near. [_Aside._ C. CUSTANCE. Get ye home, idle folks. M. MERRY. Why may not we be here? Nay, and ye will haze, haze;[123] otherwise, I tell you plain, And ye will not haze, then give us our gear again. C. CUSTANCE. Indeed, I have of yours much gay things, God save all. R. ROISTER. Speak gently unto her, and let her take all. [_Aside._ M. MERRY. Ye are too tender-hearted. Shall she make us daws? [_Aside._ Nay, dame, I will be plain with you in my friend's cause.