_R. Roister._ I die except thou helpe, I pray thee be content, 20 Doe thy parte wel nowe, and aske what thou wilt, For without thy aide my matter is all spilt. _M. Mery._ Then to serve your turne I will some paines take, And let all myne owne affaires alone for your sake. _R. Royster._ My whole hope and trust resteth onely in thee. 25 _M. Mery._ Then can ye not doe amisse what ever it bee. _R. Royster._ Gramercies Merygreeke, most bounde to thee I am. A iv _M. Mery._ But up with that heart, and speake out like a ramme, Ye speake like a Capon that had the cough now: Bee of good cheere, anon ye shall doe well ynow. 30 _R. Royster._ Upon thy comforte, I will all things well handle. _M. Mery._ So loe, that is a breast to blowe out a candle. But what is this great matter I woulde faine knowe, We shall fynde remedie therefore I trowe. Doe ye lacke money? ye knowe myne olde offers, 35 Ye have always a key to my purse and coffers. _R. Royster._ I thanke thee: had ever man suche a frende? _M. Mery._ Ye gyve unto me: I must needes to you lende _R. Royster._ Nay I have money plentie all things to discharge.[350] _M. Mery_ [_aside_]. That knewe I ryght well when I made offer so large. 40 _R. Royster._ But it is no suche matter.[351] _M. Mery._ What is it than? Are ye in daunger of debte to any man? If ye be, take no thought nor be not afraide, Let them hardly[352] take thought how they shall be paide. _R. Royster._ Tut I owe nought. 45 _M. Mery._ What then? fear ye imprisonment? _R. Royster._ No. _M. Mery._ No I wist ye offende not so,[353] to be shent. But if [y]e[354] had, the Toure coulde not you so holde, But to breake out at all times ye would be bolde. What is it? hath any man threatned you to beate? _R. Royster._ What is he that durst have put me in that heate? 50 He that beateth me, by his armes,[355] shall well fynde, That I will not be farre from him nor runne behinde. _M. Mery._ That thing knowe all men ever since ye overthrewe, The fellow of the Lion which _Hercules_ slewe.[356] But what is it than? 55 _R. Royster._ Of love I make my mone. _M. Mery._ Ah this foolishe a[357] love, wilt neare let us alone? But bicause ye were refused the last day, Ye said ye woulde nere more be intangled that way: "I would medle no more, since I fynde all so unkinde,"[358] _R. Royster._ Yea, but I can not so put love out of my minde. 60 _Math. Mer._ But is your love tell me first, in any wise, A iv _b_ In the way of Mariage, or of Merchandise? If it may otherwise than lawfull be founde, Ye get none of my helpe for an hundred pounde.