_Wor. Aff._ Yet, on my faith, sir! and I were as you At the least I would excuse me. Send her word that ye in no wise May this night keep her promise; And, if ye do not so, She will so mourn that, as I think, Of all this night she will sleep no wink, She shall be so full of woe. _Man._ Yea, on my peril! take no care; This answer will I defer and spare Till I be certain What answer Bodily Lust shall bring Of this other pretty new thing When he cometh again. _Wor. Aff._ Will it please you that I go to Margery In your stead? _Man._ Marry! that were merry; Wouldst thou serve me so? _Wor. Aff._ Why, sir, by my troth! I mean but well. _Man._ Yea, what thou meanest I can not tell, But that shall thou not do. _Wor. Aff._ In good faith, sir! ye may do worse; For, while I have anything in my purse, Or any penny to spend, I will make her even such cheer As I would mine own wife if she were here; Else, God defend! _Man._ Yea, I thank thee for thy good will; But as for that cheer, keep it still Till I call thereon! _Wor. Aff._ By God, sir! for good love I spake it; And now that I see ye will not take it I shall let it alone. [_Re-enter_ BODILY LUST. _Man._ How now? hast thou been yonder away? _Bod. Lust._ Yea, sir! _Man._ Et que novellys? _Bod. Lust._ Je nescey. I could not speak with her No[r] with none of her folks. _Man._ Not with one? _Bod. Lust._ No! they be asleep everyone: All that ever dwell there. _Man._ How knowest thou whether they be asleep or no? _Bod. Lust._ Marry! she herself told me so When I rapped at the door. _Man._ It seemeth she was not asleep then. _Bod. Lust._ No! she was abed with a strange man. _Man._ A mischief on her, whore! I would this fire were in her tail, I make God avow! _Bod. Lust._ That needeth not; she is hot enow; It were more alms to get Some cold water her fire to quench: I tell you, it is as warm a wench As any in all this street-- I supposed I had angered her ill. _Man._ How so? _Bod. Lust._ For I rang her a knil That waked her from her sleep; I gave her a peal for her friends' souls-- A man might have heard the noise from Poules To the farthest end of Cheap. She saw that I would not cease but knock And rap still at the gate; She opened a window and put forth her head-- Hence, Forty Pence! quo' she, Jack Noble is a-bed! This night ye come too late. Ah! standeth the wind so cold, quod I? K. q. tytle! we have a bry-- This gear goeth all wide. And so I came thence a great pace Till I came hither; lo! this is the case-- Have I not well hied?