+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? +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 aliue 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. +M. Mumb.+ 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 fauour hir. +M. Mumb.+ Een so sir. +R. Royster.+ Bid hir sue to me for mariage. +M. Mumbl.+ Een so sir. +R. Royster.+ And surely for thy sake she shall speede. +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._ Actus. j. Scæna. iiij. +Mathew Merygreeke. Dobinet Doughtie. Harpax. Ralph Royster. Margerie Mumblecrust.+ +M. Mery.+ Come on sirs apace, and quite your selues like men, Your pains shalbe rewarded. +D. Dou.+ But I wot not when. +M. Mery.+ Do your maister worship as ye haue done in time past. +D. Dough.+ Speake to them: of mine office he shall haue a cast. +M. Mery.+ _Harpax_, looke that thou doe well too, and thy fellow. _Harpax._ I warrant, if he will myne example folowe. +M. Mery.+ Curtsie whooresons, douke you and crouche at euery worde, +D. Dough.+ Yes whether our maister speake earnest or borde. +M. Mery.+ For this lieth vpon his preferment in deede. +D. Dough.+ Oft is hee a wower, but neuer doth he speede. +M. Mery.+ But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yond? +D. Dough.+ With _Nobs nicebecetur miserere_ sonde. +[M.] Mery.+ God be at your wedding, be ye spedde alredie? I did not suppose that your loue was so greedie, I perceiue nowe ye haue chose of deuotion, And ioy haue ye ladie of your promotion. +R. Royster.+ Tushe foole, thou art deceiued, this is not she. +M. Mery.+ Well mocke muche of hir, and keepe hir well I vise ye. I will take no charge of such a faire piece keeping. +M. Mumbl.+ What ayleth thys fellowe? he driueth me to weeping. +M. Mery.+ What weepe on the weddyng day? be merrie woman, Though I say it, ye haue chose a good gentleman. +R. Royster.+ Kocks nownes what meanest thou man, tut a whistle. +[M. Mery.]+ Ah sir, be good to hir, she is but a gristle, Ah sweete lambe and coney. +R. Royster.+ Tut thou art deceiued. +M. Mery.+ Weepe no more lady, ye shall be well receiued. Vp wyth some mery noyse sirs, to bring home the bride. +R. Royster.+ Gogs armes knaue, art thou madde? I tel thee thou art wide. +M. Mery.+ Then ye entende by nyght to haue hir home brought. +R. Royster.+ I tel thee no.