_Marchaunt._ Syr, yf ye remember me, when tyme shall come, 395 Though I requyte not all, I shall deserve some. _Exeat_ MARCHAUNT. _Mery-reporte._ Now, farre ye well, & god thanke you, by saynt Anne, I pray you, marke the fasshyon of thys honeste manne; He putteth me in more truste, at thys metynge here, Then he shall fynde cause why, thys twenty yere. 400 _Here entreth the_ RANGER. _Ranger._ God be here, now Cryst kepe thys company! _Mery-reporte._ In fayth, ye be welcome, evyn very skantely! Syr, for your comynge what is the mater? _Ranger._ I wolde fayne speke with the god Jupyter. _Mery-reporte._ That wyll not be, but ye may do thys-- 405 Tell me your mynde. I am an offycer of hys. _Ranger._ Be ye so? Mary, I crye you marcy. Your maystership may say I am homely. But syns your mynde is to have reportyd The cause wherfore I am now resortyd, 410 Pleasyth your maystership it is so. I come for my-selfe and suche other mo, Rangers and kepers of certayne places, As forestes, parkes, purlews and chasys[145] Where we be chargyd with all maner game. 415 Smale in our profyte and great is our blame. Alas! For our wages, what be we the nere? What is forty shyllynges, or fyve marke, a yere? B iii _b_ Many tymes and oft, where we be flyttynge, We spende forty pens a pece at a syttinge. 420 Now for our vauntage, whyche chefely is wyndefale. That is ryght nought, there bloweth no wynde at all, Whyche is the thynge wherin we fynde most grefe, And cause for my commynge to sew for relefe, That the god, of pyty, al thys thynge knowynge, 425 May sende us good rage of blustryng and blowynge, And, yf I can not get god to do some good, I wolde hyer the devyll to runne thorow the wood, The rootes to turne up, the toppys to brynge under. A mischyefe upon them, and a wylde thunder! 430 _Mery-reporte._ Very well sayd, I set by your charyte As mych, in a maner, as by your honeste. I shall set you somwhat in ease anone. Ye shall putte on your cappe, when I am gone. For, I se, ye care not who wyn or lese, 435 So ye maye fynde meanys to wyn your fees. _Ranger._ Syr, as in that, ye speke as it please ye. But let me speke with the god, yf it maye be. I pray you, lette me passe ye. _Mery-reporte._ Why, nay, syr! By the masse, ye-- 440 _Ranger._ Then wyll I leve you evyn as I founde ye. _Mery-reporte._ Go when ye wyll. No man here hath bounde ye. _Here entreth the_ WATER MYLLER _and the_ RANGER _goth out_.