_Tib. Talk._ And my work not half done? A mischief on all loutes. _Ex_[_eant_] _am_[_bae_.] _R. Royster._ Ah good sweet nourse[!] _M. Mumb._ A good sweete gentleman[!] _R. Royster._ What? _M. Mumbl._ Nay I can not tel sir, but what thing would you? _R. Royster._ Howe dothe sweete Custance, my heart of gold, tell me[,] how? 125 _M. Mumbl._ She dothe very well sir, and commaunde me to you. _R. Royster._ To me? _M. Mumbl._ Yea to you sir. _R. Royster._ To me? nurse tel me plain To me? _M. Mumb._ Ye. _R. Royster._ That word maketh me alive again. _M. Mumbl._ She commaunde me to one last day who ere it was. _R. Royster._ That was een to me and none other by the Masse. 130 _M. Mumbl._ I can not tell you surely, but one it was. _R. Royster._ It was I and none other: this commeth to good passe. I promise thee nourse I favour hir. _M. Mumb._ Een so sir. _R. Royster._ Bid hir sue to me for mariage. _M. Mumbl._ Een so sir. B iv _b_ _R. Royster._ And surely for thy sake she shall speede. 135 _M. Mumb._ Een so sir. _R. Royster._ I shall be contented to take hir. _M. Mumb._ Een so sir. _R. Royster._ But at thy request and for thy sake. _M. Mumb._ Een so sir. _R. Royster._ And come hearke in thine eare what to say. _M. Mumb._ Een so sir. _Here lette him tell hir a great long tale in hir eare._[411] Actus. i. Scæna. iiii. MATHEW MERYGREEKE. DOBINET DOUGHTIE. HARPAX [_and Musitians entering_]. RALPH ROYSTER. MARGERIE MUMBLECRUST [_still on the scene, whispering_]. _M. Mery._ Come on sirs apace, and quite your selves like men, Your pains shalbe rewarded. _D. Dou._ But I wot not when. _M. Mery._ Do your maister worship as ye have done in time past. _D. Dough._ Speake to them: of mine office he shall have a cast. _M. Mery._ _Harpax_,[412] looke that thou doe well too, and thy fellow. 5 _Harpax._ I warrant, if he will myne example folowe. _M. Mery._ Curtsie whooresons, douke you and crouche at every worde, _D. Dough._ Yes whether our maister speake earnest or borde. _M. Mery._ For this lieth upon his preferment in deede. _D. Dough._ Oft is hee a wower, but never doth he speede. 10 _M. Mery._ But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yond? _D. Dough._ With Nobs nicebecetur miserere[413] fonde. [_M._] _Mery_ [_approaching R. R._]. God be at your wedding, be ye spedde alredie? I did not suppose that your love was so greedie, I perceive nowe ye have chose[414] of devotion, 15 And joy have ye ladie of your promotion. _R. Royster._ Tushe foole, thou art deceived, this is not she.