+M. Mery.+ What weepe? fye for shame, and blubber? for manhods sake, Neuer lette your foe so muche pleasure of you take. Rather play the mans parte, and doe loue refraine. If she despise you een despise ye hir againe. +R. Royster.+ By gosse and for thy sake I defye hir in deede. +M. Mery.+ Yea and perchaunce that way ye shall much sooner speede, For one madde propretie these women haue in fey, When ye will, they will not: Will not ye, then will they. Ah foolishe woman, ah moste vnluckie Custance, Ah vnfortunate woman, ah pieuishe Custance, Art thou to thine harmes so obstinately bent, That thou canst not see where lieth thine high preferment? Canst thou not lub dis man, which coulde lub dee so well? Art thou so much thine own foe. +R. Royster.+ Thou dost the truth tell. +M. Mery.+ Wel I lament. +R. Royster.+ So do I. +M. Mery.+ Wherfor? +R. Royster.+ For this thing Bicause she is gone. +M. Mery.+ I mourne for an other thing. +R. Royster.+ What is it Merygreeke, wherfore thou dost griefe take? +M. Mery.+ That I am not a woman myselfe for your sake, I would haue you my selfe, and a strawe for yond Gill, And mocke much of you though it were against my will. I would not I warrant you, fall in such a rage, As so to refuse suche a goodly personage. +R. Royster.+ In faith I heartily thanke thee Merygreeke. +M. Mery.+ And I were a woman. +R. Royster.+ Thou wouldest to me seeke. +M. Mery.+ For though I say it, a goodly person ye bee. +R. Royster.+ No, no. +M. Mery.+ Yes a goodly man as ere I dyd see. +R. Royster.+ No, I am a poore homely man as God made mee. +M. Mery.+ By the faith that I owe to God sir, but ye bee. Woulde I might for your sake, spende a thousande pound land. +R. Royster.+ I dare say thou wouldest haue me to thy husbande. +M. Mery.+ Yea: And I were the fairest lady in the shiere, And knewe you as I know you, and see you nowe here. Well I say no more. +R. Royster.+ Gramercies with all my hart. +M. Mery.+ But since that can not be, will ye play a wise parte? +R. Royster.+ How should I? +M. Mery.+ Refraine from Custance a while now. And I warrant hir soone right glad to seeke to you, Ye shall see hir anon come on hir knees creeping, And pray you to be good to hir salte teares weeping. +R. Royster.+ But what and she come not? +M. Mery.+ In faith then farewel she. Or else if ye be wroth, ye may auenged be. +R. Royster.+ By cocks precious potsticke, and een so I shall. I wyll vtterly destroy hir, and house and all, But I woulde be auenged in the meane space, On that vile scribler, that did my wowyng disgrace. +M. Mery.+ Scribler (ko you) in deede he is worthy no lesse. I will call hym to you, and ye bidde me doubtlesse.