+M. Mery.+ To mine owne deare coney birde, swete heart, and pigsny Good Mistresse Custance present these by and by, Of this superscription do ye blame the stile? +C. Custance.+ With the rest as good stuffe as ye redde a great while. +M. Mery.+ Sweete mistresse where as I loue you nothing at all, Regarding your substance and richesse chiefe of all, For your personage, beautie, demeanour and wit, I commende me vnto you neuer a whit. Sorie to heare report of your good welfare. For (as I heare say) suche your conditions are, That ye be worthie fauour of no liuing man, To be abhorred of euery honest man. To be taken for a woman enclined to vice. Nothing at all to Vertue gyuing hir due price. Whersore concerning mariage, ye are thought Suche a fine Paragon, as nere honest man bought. And nowe by these presentes I do you aduertise That I am minded to marrie you in no wise. For your goodes and substance, I coulde bee content To take you as ye are. If ye mynde to bee my wyfe, Ye shall be assured for the tyme of my lyfe, I will keepe ye ryght well, from good rayment and fare, Ye shall not be kepte but in sorowe and care. Ye shall in no wyse lyue at your owne libertie, Doe and say what ye lust, ye shall neuer please me, But when ye are mery, I will be all sadde, When ye are sory, I will be very gladde. When ye seeke your heartes ease, I will be vnkinde, At no tyme, in me shall ye muche gentlenesse finde. But all things contrary to your will and minde, Shall be done: otherwise I wyll not be behinde To speake. And as for all them that woulde do you wrong I will so helpe and mainteyne, ye shall not lyue long. Nor any foolishe dolte, shall cumbre you but I. Thus good mistresse Custance, the lorde you saue and kepe, From me Roister Doister, whether I wake or slepe. Who fauoureth you no lesse, (ye may be bolde) Than this letter purporteth, which ye haue vnfolde. +C. Custance.+ Howe by this letter of loue? is it not fine? +R. Royster.+ By the armes of Caleys it is none of myne. +M. Mery.+ Fie you are fowle to blame this is your owne hand. +C. Custance.+ Might not a woman be proude of such an husbande? +M. Mery.+ Ah that ye would in a letter shew such despite. +R. Royster.+ Oh I would I had hym here, the which did it endite. +M. Mery.+ Why ye made it your selfe ye tolde me by this light. +R. Royster.+ Yea I ment I wrote it myne owne selfe yesternight. +C. Custance.+ Ywis sir, I would not haue sent you such a mocke. +R. Royster.+ Ye may so take it, but I ment it not so by cocke. +M. Mery.+ Who can blame this woman to fume and frette and rage? Tut, tut, your selfe nowe haue marde your owne marriage. Well, yet mistresse Custance, if ye can this remitte, This gentleman other wise may your loue requitte. +C. Custance.+ No God be with you both, and seeke no more to me. _Exeat._ +R. Royster.+ Wough, she is gone for euer, I shall hir no more see.