M. MERRY. I have take my leave, and the tide is well-spent.
R. ROISTER. I die, except thou help; I pray thee be content.
Do thy part well now, and ask what thou wilt;
For without thy aid my matter is all spilt.
M. MERRY. Then to serve your turn I will some pains take,
And let all mine own affairs alone for your sake.
R. ROISTER. My whole hope and trust resteth only in thee.
M. MERRY. Then can ye not do amiss, whatever it be.
R. ROISTER. Gramercies, Merrygreek, most bound to thee I am.
M. MERRY. But up with that heart, and speak out like a ram;
Ye speak like a capon that had the cough now:
Be of good cheer; anon ye shall do well enou'.
R. ROISTER. Upon thy comfort I will all things well handle.
M. MERRY. So, lo! that is a breast to blow out a candle.[45]
But what is this great matter, I would fain know?
We shall find remedy therefore, I trow.
Do ye lack money? ye know mine old offers:
Ye have always a key to my purse and coffers.
R. ROISTER. I thank thee: had ever man such a friend!
M. MERRY. Ye give unto me: I must needs to you lend.
R. ROISTER. Nay, I have money plenty all things to discharge.
M. MERRY (_aside_). That knew I right well, when I made
offer so large.
R. ROISTER. But it is no such matter.
M. MERRY. What is it, then?
Are ye in danger of debt[46] to any man?
If ye be, take no thought, nor be not afraid;
Let them hardily take thought[47] how they shall be paid.
R. ROISTER. Tut, I owe nought.
M. MERRY. What then? fear ye imprisonment?
R. ROISTER. No.
M. MERRY. No; I wist ye offend not so to be shent;
But, if ye had, the Tower could not you so hold,
But to break out at all times ye would be bold.
What is it? hath any man threatened you to beat?
R. ROISTER. What is he that durst have put me in that heat?
He that beateth me, by His arms,[48] shall well find
That I will not be far from him, nor run behind.
M. MERRY. That thing know all men, ever since ye overthrew
The fellow of the lion which Hercules slew.
But what is it then?
R. ROISTER. Of love I make my moan.
M. MERRY. Ah, this foolish love! wil't ne'er let us alone?
But, because ye were refused the last day,
Ye said ye would ne'er more be entangled that way!
I would meddle no more, since I find all so unkind.
R. ROISTER. Yea, but I cannot so put love out of my mind.
M. MERRY. But is your love, tell me first, in any wise
In the way of marriage or of merchandise?
If it may otherwise than lawful be found,
Ye get none of my help for an hundred pound.
R. ROISTER. No, by my troth, I would have her to my wife.
M. MERRY. Then are ye a good man, and God save your life!
And what or who is she, with whom ye are in love?
R. ROISTER. A woman, whom I know not by what means to move.
M. MERRY. Who is it?
R. ROISTER. A woman yond.
M. MERRY. What is her name?
R. ROISTER. Her yonder.
M. MERRY. Whom?
R. ROISTER. Mistress, ah--
M. MERRY. Fy, fy for shame!
Love ye, and know not whom? but _her yond! a woman!_
We shall then get you a wife, I cannot tell when.
R. ROISTER. The fair woman that supped with us yesternight;
And I heard her name twice or thrice, and had it right.
M. MERRY. Yea, ye may see ye ne'er take me to good cheer with
you:
If ye had, I could have told you her name now.
R. ROISTER. I was to blame indeed, but the next time perchance--
And she dwelleth in this house--
M. MERRY. What, Christian Custance?
R. ROISTER. Except I have her to my wife, I, I shall run mad.
M. MERRY. Nay, unwise perhaps; but I warrant you for mad.[49]
R. ROISTER. I am utterly dead, unless I have my desire.
M. MERRY. Where be the bellows that blew this sudden fire?
R. ROISTER. I hear she is worth a thousand pound and more.
M. MERRY. Yea, but learn this one lesson of me afore:
An hundred pound of marriage-money, doubtless,
Is ever thirty pound sterling, or somewhat less;[50]
So that her thousand pound, if she be thrifty,
Is much near[51] about two hundred and fifty.
Howbeit, wooers and widows are never poor.
R. ROISTER. Is she a widow? I love her better therefore.
M. MERRY. But I hear she hath made promise to another.
R. ROISTER. He shall go without her, and he were my brother.
M. MERRY. I have heard say, I am right well advised,
That she hath to Gawin Goodluck promised.
R. ROISTER. What is that Gawin Goodluck?
M. MERRY. A merchant-man.
R. ROISTER. Shall he speed afore me? Nay, sir, by sweet
Saint Anne!
Ah, sir! _Backare_, quod Mortimer to his sow:[52]
I will have her mine own self, I make God a vow;
For, I tell thee, she is worth a thousand pound.
M. MERRY. Yet a fitter wife for your maship[53] might be found;
Such a goodly man as you might get one with land,
Besides pounds of gold a thousand and a thousand,
And a thousand and a thousand and a thousand,
And so to the sum of twenty hundred thousand:
Your most goodly personage is worthy of no less.
R. ROISTER. I am sorry God made me so comely, doubtless;
For that maketh me each where so highly favoured,
And all women on me so enamoured.
M. MERRY. Enamoured, quod you? have ye spied out that?
Ah, sir, marry, now I see you know what is what.
Enamoured, ka?[54] marry, sir, say that again;
But I thought not ye had marked it so plain.
R. ROISTER. Yes, each where they gaze all upon me, and stare.
M. MERRY. Yea, malkin, I warrant you, as much as they dare.
And ye will not believe what they say in the street,
When your maship passeth by, all such as I meet,
That sometimes I can scarce find what answer to make.
Who is this? (saith one) Sir Launcelot du Lake?[55]
Who is this? Great Guy of Warwick, saith another?
No (say I), it is the thirteenth Hercules brother.
Who is this? noble Hector of Troy? saith the third:
No, but of the same nest (say I) it is a bird.
Who is this? great Goliah, Sampson, or Colbrand?
No (say I), but it is a brute of the aly land.[56]
Who is this? great Alexander or Charlemagne?
No, it is the tenth Worthy, say I to them again:
I know not if I said well--
R. ROISTER. Yes, for so I am.
M. MERRY. Yea, for there were but nine worthies, before ye came.
To some others the third Cato I do you call;[57]
And so, as well as I can, I answer them all.
Sir, I pray you what lord or great gentleman is this?
Master Ralph Roister Doister, dame (say I), i-wis.
O Lord (saith she then), what a goodly man it is!
Would Christ I had such a husband as he is!
O Lord (say some), that the sight of his face we lack!
It is enough for you (say I) to see his back;
His face is for ladies of high and noble parages,[58]
With whom he hardly 'scapeth great marriages.
With much more than this and much otherwise.
R. ROISTER. I can thee thank,[59] that thou canst such answers
devise:
But I perceive thou dost me throughly know.
M. MERRY. I mark your manners for mine own learning, I trow.
But such is your beauty, and such are your acts,
Such is your personage, and such are your facts,[60]
That all women, fair and foul, more and less,
They eye you, they lub[61] you, they talk of you doubtless.
Your pleasant look maketh them all merry:
Ye pass not by, but they laugh, till they be weary:
Yea, and money could I have, the truth to tell,
Of many, to bring you that way where they dwell.
R. ROISTER. Merrygreek, for this thy reporting well of me--
M. MERRY. What should I else, sir? it is my duty, pardè.
R. ROISTER. I promise thou shalt not lack, while I have a groat.
M. MERRY. Faith, sir, and I ne'er had more need of a new coat.
R. ROISTER. Thou shalt have one to-morrow, and gold for to spend.
M. MERRY. Then I trust to bring the day to a good end.
For as for mine own part, having money enou',
I could live only with the remembrance of you--
But now to your widow, whom you love so hot--
R. ROISTER. By Cock, thou sayest truth, I had almost forgot.
M. MERRY. What, if Christian Custance will not have you, what?
R. ROISTER. Have me? yes, I warrant you, never doubt of that:
I know she loveth me, but she dare not speak.
M. MERRY. Indeed, meet it were somebody should it break.
R. ROISTER. She looked on me twenty times yesternight,
And laughed so--
M. MERRY. That she could not sit upright.
R. ROISTER. No, faith, could she not.
M. MERRY. No, even such a thing I cast.[62]
R. ROISTER. But for wooing, thou knowest, women are shamefast.
But, and she knew my mind, I know she would be glad,
And think it the best chance that ever she had.
M. MERRY. To her, then, like a man, and be bold forth to start:
Wooers never speed well, that have a false heart.
R. ROISTER. What may I best do?
M. MERRY. Sir, remain ye awhile [here];[63]
Ere long one or other of her house will appear.
Ye know my mind.
R. ROISTER. Yea, now hardily let me alone.
M. MERRY. In the meantime, sir, if you please, I will home,
And call your musicians; for in this your case
It would set you forth, and all your wooing grace,
Ye may not lack your instruments to play and sing.
R. ROISTER. Thou knowest I can do that--
M. MERRY. As well as anything.
Shall I go call your folks, that we may show a cast?
R. ROISTER. Yea, run, I beseech thee, in all possible haste,
M. MERRY. I go. [_Exeat._
R. ROISTER. Yea, for I love singing out of measure,
It comforteth my spirits, and doth me great pleasure.
But who cometh forth yond from my sweetheart Custance?
My matter frameth well; this is a lucky chance.
ACTUS I., SCÆNA 3.
MADGE MUMBLECRUST[64] _spinning on the distaff_: TIBET TALKAPACE
_sowing_: ANNOT ALYFACE _knitting_: R. ROISTER _behind_.
M. MUMBL. If this distaff were spun, Margery Mumblecrust--
TIB. TALK. Where good stale ale is, will drink no water, I trust.
M. MUMBL. Dame Custance hath promised us good ale and white bread.
TIB. TALK. If she keep not promise, I will beshrew her head.
But it will be stark night, before I shall have done.
R. ROISTER (_aside_). I will stand here awhile, and talk
with them anon.
I hear them speak of Custance, which doth my heart good;
To hear her name spoken doth even comfort my blood.
M. MUMBL. Sit down to your work, Tibet, like a good girl.
TIB. TALK. Nurse, meddle you with your spindle and your whirl.
No haste but good, Madge Mumblecrust; for whip and whur,[65]
The old proverb doth say, never made good fur.
M. MUMBL. Well, ye will sit down to your work anon, I trust.
TIB. TALK. Soft fire maketh sweet malt,[66] good Madge Mumblecrust,
M. MUMBL. And sweet malt maketh jolly good ale for the nonce.
TIB. TALK. Which will slide down the lane[67] without any bones.
[_Cantet._[68]
Old brown-bread crusts must have much good mumbling;
But good ale down your throat hath good easy tumbling.
R. ROISTER (_aside_). The jolliest wench that ere I heard!
Little mouse,
May I not rejoice that she shall dwell in my house?
TIB. TALK. So, sirrah,[69] now this gear beginneth for to frame.
M. MUMBL. Thanks to God, though your work stand still, your
tongue is not lame.
TIB. TALK. And though your teeth be gone, both so sharp and so
fine,
Yet your tongue can renne on pattens as well as mine.
M. MUMBL. Ye were not for nought named Tib Talkapace.
TIB. TALK. Doth my talk grieve you? Alack, God save your grace!
M. MUMBL. I hold a groat, ye will drink anon for this gear.
TIB. TALK. And I will not pray you the stripes for me to bear.
M. MUMBL. I hold a penny, ye will drink without a cup.
TIB. TALK. Whereinsoe'er ye drink, I wot ye drink all up.
AN. ALYFACE. By Cock,[70] and well sewed, my good Tibet Talkapace.
TIB. TALK. And e'en as well knit, my nown Annot Alyface.
R. ROISTER (_aside_). See what a sort she keepeth, that must be my
wife:
Shall not I, when I have her, lead a merry life?
TIB. TALK. Welcome, my good wench, and sit here by me just.
AN. ALYFACE. And how doth our old beldame here, Madge Mumblecrust?
TIB. TALK. Chide and find fault, and threaten to complain.
AN. ALYFACE. To make us poor girls shent[71] to her is small gain.
M. MUMBL. I did neither chide, nor complain, nor threaten.
R. ROISTER (_aside_). It would grieve my heart to see one
of them beaten.
M. MUMBL. I did nothing but bid her work, and hold her peace.
TIB. TALK. So would I, if you could your clattering cease;
But the devil cannot make old trot hold her tongue.
AN. ALYFACE. Let all these matters pass, and we three sing a song:
So shall we pleasantly both the time beguile now,
And eke despatch all our works, ere we can tell how.
TIB. TALK. I shrew them that say nay, and that shall not be I.
M. MUMBL. And I am well content.
TIB. TALK. Sing on then by and by.
R. ROISTER (_aside_). And I will not away, but listen to their song;
Yet Merrygreek and my folks tarry very long.
Tib., An., and Margery do sing here.[72]
_Pipe, merry Annot, &c._
_Trilla, Trilla, Trillary._
_Work, Tibet; work, Annot; work, Margery;_
_Sew, Tibet; knit, Annot; spin, Margery._
_Let us see who will win the victory._
TIB. TALK. This sleeve is not willing to be sewed, I trow.
A small thing might make me all in the ground to throw.
Then they sing again.
_Pipe, merry Annot, &c._
_Trilla, Trilla, Trillary._
_What, Tibet! what, Annot! what, Margery!_
_Ye sleep, but we do not, that shall we try,_
_Your fingers be numbed, our work will not lie._
TIB. TALK. If ye do so again--well, I would advise you nay:
In good sooth, one stop more, and I make holyday!
They sing the third time.
_Pipe, merry Annot, &c._
_Trilla, Trilla, Trillary._
_Now, Tibbet; now, Annot; now, Margery;_
_Now whippet apace for the maistry:_
_But it will not be, our mouth is so dry_.
TIB TALK. Ah, each finger is a thumb to-day, me-think:
I care not to let all alone, choose it swim or sink.
They sing the fourth time.
_Pipe, merry Annot, &c._
_Trilla, Trilla, Trillary._
_When, Tibbet? when, Annot? when, Margery?_
_I will not,--I can not,--no more can I._
_Then give we all over, and there let it lie!_
[_Let her cast down her work._
TIB. TALK. There it lieth! the worst is but a curried coat.
Tut, I am used thereto: I care not a groat.
AN. ALYFACE. Have we done singing since? then will I in again:
Here I found you, and here I leave both twain. [_Exeat._
M. MUMBL. And I will not be long after. Tib. Talkapace!
[_She discovers R. Roister Doister._
TIB. TALK. What is the matter?
M. MUMBL. Yond stood a man all this space,
And hath heard all that ever we spake together.
TIB. TALK. Marry, the more lout he for his coming hither,
And the less good he can to listen maidens talk.
I care not, and I go bid him hence for to walk:
It were well done to know what he maketh here-away.
R. ROISTER. Now might I speak to them, if I wist what to say.
[_Aside._
M. MUMBL. Nay, we will go both of's, and see what he is.
R. ROISTER (_coming forward_). One that heard all your
talk and singing, i-wis.
TIB. TALK. The more to blame you: a good thrifty husband
Would elsewhere have had some better matters in hand.
R. ROISTER. I did it for no harm; but for good love I bear
To your dame Mistress Custance I did your talk hear.
And, mistress nurse, I will kiss you for acquaintance.
M. MUMBL. I come anon, sir.
TIB. TALK. Faith, I would our dame Custance
Saw this gear.
M. MUMBL. I must first wipe all clean, yea, I must.
TIB. TALK. Ill 'chieve it, doting fool, but it must be cust.
M. MUMBL. God 'ield you, sir; chad not so much, i-chotte not when:
Ne'er since chwas born, chwine,[73] of such a gay gentleman.
R. ROISTER. I will kiss you too, maiden, for the good will I bear ye.
TIB. TALK. No, forsooth, by your leave, ye shall not kiss me.
R. ROISTER. Yes, be not afeard; I do not disdain you a whit.
TIB. TALK. Why should I fear you? I have not so little wit;
Ye are but a man, I know very well.
R. ROISTER. Why, then?
TIB. TALK. Forsooth, for I will not: I use not to kiss men.
R. ROISTER. I would fain kiss you too, good maiden, if I might.
TIB. TALK. What should that need?
R. ROISTER. But to honour you, by this light.
I use to kiss all them that I love, to God I vow.
TIB. TALK. Yea, sir? I pray you, when did ye last kiss your cow?
R. ROISTER. Ye might be proud to kiss me, if ye were wise.
TIB. TALK. What promotion were therein?
R. ROISTER. Nurse is not so nice.
TIB. TALK. Well, I have not been taught to kissing and licking.
R. ROISTER. Yet, I thank you, mistress nurse, ye made no sticking.
M. MUMBL. I will not stick for a koss with such a man as you.
TIB. TALK. They that lust!--I will again to my sewing now.
AN. ALYFACE.[74] Tidings, ho! tidings! dame Custance greeteth you well.
R. ROISTER. Whom? me?
AN. ALYFACE. You, sir? No, sir: I do no such tale tell.
R. ROISTER. But, and she knew me here!--
AN. ALYFACE. Tibet Talkapace,
Your mistress Custance and mine must speak with your grace.
TIB. TALK. With me?
AN. ALYFACE. You must come in to her, out of all doubts.
TIB. TALK. And my work not half-done? a mischief on all louts!
[_Ex. amb._
R. ROISTER. Ah, good sweet nurse!
M. MUMBL. Ah, good sweet gentleman!
R. ROISTER. Who?[75]
M. MUMBL. Nay, I cannot tell, sir, but what thing would you?
R. ROISTER. How doth sweet Custance, my heart of gold, tell me how?
M. MUMBL. She doth very well, sir, and command[s] me to you.
R. ROISTER. To me?
M. MUMBL. Yea, to you, sir.
R. ROISTER. To me? nurse, tell me plain,
To me?
M. MUMBL. Yea.
R. ROISTER. That word maketh me alive again.
M. MUMBL. She command[ed] me to one last day, whoe'er it was.
R. ROISTER. That was e'en to me and none other, by the mass.
M. MUMBL. I cannot tell you surely, but one it was.
R. ROISTER. It was I and none other--this cometh to good pass.
I promise thee, nurse, I favour her.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
R. ROISTER. Bid her sue to me for marriage.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
R. ROISTER. And surely for thy sake she shall speed.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
R. ROISTER. I shall be contented to take her.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
R. ROISTER. But at thy request and for thy sake.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
R. ROISTER. And, come, hark in thine ear what to say.
M. MUMBL. E'en so, sir?
[_Here let him tell her a great long tale in her ear._
ACTUS I., SCÆNA IV.
MATTHEW MERRYGREEK, DOBINET DOUGHTY, HARPAX, RALPH ROISTER, MARGERY
MUMBLECRUST.
M. MERRY. Come on, sirs, apace, and 'quit yourselves like men.
Your pains shall be rewarded.
D. DOUGH. But, I wot not when.
M. MERRY. Do your master worship, as ye have done in time past.
D. DOUGH. Speak to them: of mine office he shall have a cast.
M. MERRY. Harpax, look that thou do well too, and thy fellow.
HARPAX. I warrant, if he will mine example follow.
M. MERRY. Court'sy, whoresons: duck you and crouch at every word.
D. DOUGH. Yes, whether our master speak earnest or bord.[76]
M. MERRY. For this lieth upon his preferment indeed.
D. DOUGH. Oft is he a wooer, but never doth he speed.
M. MERRY. But with whom is he now so sadly rounding[77] yond?
D. DOUGH. With _Nobs nicebectur miserere_[78] fond.
M. MERRY. God be at your wedding: be ye sped already?
I did not suppose that your love was so greedy.
I perceive now ye have chose of devotion;
And joy have ye, lady, of your promotion!
R. ROISTER. Tush, fool, thou art deceived, this is not she.
M. MERRY. Well, mock[79] much of her, and keep her well, I 'vise ye.
I will take no charge of such a fair piece keeping.
M. MUMBL. What aileth this fellow? he driveth me to weeping.
M. MERRY. What, weep on the wedding-day? be merry, woman:
Though I say it, ye have chose a good gentleman.
R. ROISTER. Kock's nowns,[80] what meanest thou, man? tut, a whistle.
M. MERRY. Ah, sir, be good to her; she is but a gristle:
Ah, sweet lamb and coney!
R. ROISTER. Tut, thou art deceived.
M. MERRY. Weep no more, lady, ye shall be well received.
Up with some merry noise,[81] sirs, to bring home the bride!
R. ROISTER. Gog's arms, knave, art thou mad? I tell thee thou art wide.
M. MERRY. Then, ye intend by night to have her home brought.
R. ROISTER. I tell thee, no.
M. MERRY. How then?
R. ROISTER. 'Tis neither meant ne thought.
M. MERRY. What shall we then do with her?
R. ROISTER. Ah, foolish harebrain,
This is not she.
M. MERRY. No, is [not]. Why, then, unsaid again!
And what young girl is this with your maship so bold?
R. ROISTER. A girl?
M. MERRY. Yea, I daresay, scarce yet threescore year old.
R. ROISTER. This same is the fair widow's nurse, of whom ye wot.
M. MERRY. Is she but a nurse of a house? hence home, old trot!
Hence at once!
R. ROISTER. No, no.
M. MERRY. What, an' please your maship,
A nurse talk so homely with one of your worship?
R. ROISTER. I will have it so; it is my pleasure and will.
M. MERRY. Then I am content. Nurse, come again, tarry still.
R. ROISTER. What, she will help forward this my suit, for her part.
M. MERRY. Then is't mine own pigsny, and blessing on my heart!
R. ROISTER. This is our best friend, man.
M. MERRY. Then teach her what to say.
M. MUMBL. I am taught already.
M. MERRY. Then go, make no delay.
R. ROISTER. Yet hark, one word in thine ear.
M. MERRY. Back, sirs, from his tail!
R. ROISTER. Back, villains; will ye be privy of my counsel?
M. MERRY. Back, sirs! So. I told you afore ye would be shent.
R. ROISTER. She shall have the first day a whole peck of argent.
M. MUMBL. A peck! _Nomine Patris_, have ye so much spare?
R. ROISTER. Yea, and a cart-load thereto, or else were it bare;
Besides other moveables, household stuff and land.
M. MUMBL. Have ye lands too?
R. ROISTER. An hundred marks.
M. MERRY. Yea, a thousand.
M. MUMBL. And have ye cattle too? and sheep too?
R. ROISTER. Yea, a few.
M. MERRY. He is ashamed the number of them to show.
E'en round about him as many thousand sheep goes,
As he and thou, and I too, have fingers and toes.
M. MUMBL. And how many years old be you?
R. ROISTER. Forty at least.
M. MERRY. Yea, and thrice forty to them.
R. ROISTER. Nay, thou dost jest.
I am not so old: thou misreckonest my years.
M. MERRY. I know that; but my mind was on bullocks and steers.
M. MUMBL. And what shall I show her your mastership's name is?
R. ROISTER. Nay, she shall make suit, ere she know that, i-wis.
M. MUMBL. Yet let me somewhat know.
M. MERRY. This is he, understand
That killed the blue spider in Blanchepowder land.
M. MUMBL. Yea, Jesus, William, zee, law! did he zo, law?
M. MERRY. Yea, and the last elephant that ever he saw,
As the beast passed by, he start out of a busk,[82]
And e'en with pure strength of arms plucked out his great tusk.
M. MUMBL. Jesus, _Nomine Patris_, what a thing was that!
R. ROISTER. Yea, but, Merrygreek, one thing thou hast forgot.
M. MERRY. What?
R. ROISTER. Of th' other elephant.
M. MERRY. O, him that fled away?
R. ROISTER. Yea.
M. MERRY. Yea, he knew that his match was in place that day.
Tut, he bet the King of Crickets on Christmas-day,
That he crept in a hole, and not a word to say.
M. MUMBL. A sore man, by zembletee.[83]
M. MERRY. Why, he wrong a club
Once in a fray out of the hand of Belzebub.
R. ROISTER. And how when Mumfision--
M. MERRY. O, your costreling
Bore the lantern a-field so before the gozeling----
Nay, that is too long a matter now to be told.
Never ask his name, nurse, I warrant thee, be bold:
He conquered in one day from Rome to Naples,
And won towns, nurse, as fast as thou canst make apples.
M. MUMBL. O Lord! my heart quaketh for fear, he is so sore.
R. ROISTER. Thou makest her too much afeard, Merrygreek; no more.
This tale would fear my sweetheart Custance right evil.
M. MERRY. Nay, let her take him, nurse, and fear not the devil.
But thus is our song dasht--sirs, ye may home again.
[_To the music._
R. ROISTER. No, shall they not. I charge you all here to remain:
The villain slaves!--a whole day, ere they can be found!
M. MERRY. Couch on your marybones, whoresons, down to the ground!
Was it meet he should tarry so long in one place,
Without harmony of music or some solace?
Whoso hath such bees as your master in his head
Had need to have his spirits with music be fed.
By your mastership's licence--
R. ROISTER. What is that? a mote!
M. MERRY. No, it was a fowl's feather had light on your coat.
R. ROISTER. I was nigh no feathers, since I came from my bed.
M. MERRY. No, sir, it was a hair that was fall from your head.
R. ROISTER. My men come, when it please them.
M. MERRY. By your leave--
R. ROISTER. What is that?
M. MERRY. Your gown was foul spotted with the foot[84] of a gnat.
R. ROISTER. Their master to offend they are nothing afeard.
What now?
M. MERRY. A lousy hair from your mastership's beard.
And sir, for nurse's sake, pardon this one offence.
OMNES FAMULÆ. We shall not after this show the like negligence.
R. ROISTER. I pardon you this once; and, come, sing ne'er the worse.
M. MERRY. How like you the goodness of this gentleman, nurse?
M. MUMBL. God save his mastership, that can so his men forgive!
And I will hear them sing, ere I go, by his leave.
R. ROISTER. Marry, and thou shalt, wench: come, we two will dance.
M. MUMBL. Nay, I will by mine own self foot the song perchance.
R. ROISTER. Go it, sirs, lustily. [_Retires to write a letter._
M. MUMBL. Pipe up a merry note.
Let me hear it played, I will foot it for a groat.
[_Cantent._[85]
R. ROISTER. Now, nurse, take this same letter here to thy mistress;
And as my trust is in thee, ply my business.
M. MUMBL. It shall be done.
M. MERRY. Who made it?