For no man there is, but a very dolt and lout,
That to woo a widow would so go about.
He shall never have me his wife, while he do live.
M. MERRY. Then will he have you if he may, so mot I thrive;
And he biddeth you send him word by me,
That ye humbly beseech him ye may his wife be,
And that there shall be no let in you nor mistrust,
But to be wedded on Sunday next, if he lust;
And biddeth you to look for him.
C. CUSTANCE. Doth he bid so?
M. MERRY. When he cometh, ask him whether he did or no?
C. CUSTANCE. Go say, that I bid him keep him warm at home,
For, if he come abroad, he shall cough me a mome.[105]
My mind was vexed, I 'shrew his head, sottish dolt.
M. MERRY. He hath in his head--
C. CUSTANCE. As much brain as a burbolt.[106]
M. MERRY. Well, dame Custance, if he hear you thus play choploge.[107]
C. CUSTANCE. What will he?
M. MERRY. Play the devil in the horologe.[108]
C. CUSTANCE. I defy him, lout.
M. MERRY. Shall I tell him what ye say?
C. CUSTANCE. Yea, and add whatsoever thou canst, I thee pray,
And I will avouch it, whatsoever it be.
M. MERRY. Then let me alone; we will laugh well, ye shall see:
It will not be long, ere he will hither resort.
C. CUSTANCE. Let him come when him lust, I wish no better sport.
Fare ye well: I will in, and read my great letter:
I shall to my wooer make answer the better. [_Exeat._
ACTUS III., SCÆNA 3.
MATTHEW MERRYGREEK.
M. MERRY. Now that the whole answer in my device doth rest,
I shall paint out our wooer in colours of the best,
And all that I say shall be on Custance's mouth,
She is author of all that I shall speak, forsooth.
But yonder cometh Roister Doister now in a trance.
[_Enter_ R. ROISTER.]
R. ROISTER. Juno send me this day good luck and good chance!
I cannot but come see how Merrygreek doth speed.
M. MERRY. I will not see him, but give him a jut[109] indeed.
I cry your mastership mercy!
R. ROISTER. And whither now?
M. MERRY. As fast as I could run, sir, in post against you.
But why speak ye so faintly, or why are ye so sad?
R. ROISTER. Thou knowest the proverb--because I cannot be had.
Hast thou spoken with this woman?
M. MERRY. Yea, that I have.
R. ROISTER. And what, will this gear be?
M. MERRY. No, so God me save.
R. ROISTER. Hast thou a flat answer?
M. MERRY. Nay, a sharp answer.
R. ROISTER. What?
M. MERRY. Ye shall not (she saith), by her will, marry her cat.
Ye are such a calf, such an ass, such a block,
Such a lilburn, such a hobil, such a lobcock;
And because ye should come to her at no season,
She despised your maship out of all reason.
"Beware what ye say (ko I) of such a gentleman!"
"Nay, I fear him not (ko she), do the best he can."
He vaunteth himself for a man of prowess great,
Whereas a good gander, I dare say, may him beat.
And where he is louted[110] and laughed to scorn,
For the veriest dolt that ever was born:
And veriest lubber, sloven and beast,
Living in this world from the west to the east;
Yet of himself hath he such opinion,
That in all the world is not the like minion.
He thinketh each woman to be brought in dotage
With the only sight of his goodly personage:
Yet none that will have him: we do him lout and flock,
And make him among us our common sporting-stock;
And so would I now (ko she), save only because--
"Better nay (ko I)." "I lust not meddle with daws."
"Ye are happy (ko I) that ye are a woman:
This would cost you your life, in case ye were a man."
R. ROISTER. Yea, an hundred thousand pound should not save her life.
M. MERRY. No, but that ye woo her to have her to your wife;
But I could not stop her mouth.
R. ROISTER. Heigho, alas!
M. MERRY. Be of good cheer, man, and let the world pass.[111]
R. ROISTER. What shall I do or say, now that it will not be?
M. MERRY. Ye shall have choice of a thousand as good as she;
And ye must pardon her; it is for lack of wit.
R. ROISTER. Yea, for were not I an husband for her fit?
Well, what should I now do?
M. MERRY. I'faith, I cannot tell.
R. ROISTER. I will go home, and die.
M. MERRY. Then shall I bid toll the bell?
R. ROISTER. No.
M. MERRY. God have mercy on your soul: ah, good gentleman,
That e'er you should thus die for an unkind woman!
Will ye drink once, ere ye go?
R. ROISTER. No, no, I will none.
M. MERRY. How feels your soul to God?
R. ROISTER. I am nigh-gone.
M. MERRY. And shall we hence straight?
R. ROISTER. Yea.
M. MERRY. _Placebo dilexi._ [_ut infra._[112]
Master Roister Doister will straight go home, and die.
R. ROISTER. Heigho, alas! the pangs of death my heart do break.
M. MERRY. Hold your peace, for shame, sir! a dead man may not speak
_Ne quando._ What mourners and what torches shall we have?
R. ROISTER. None.
M. MERRY. _Dirige._ He will go darkling to his grave:
_Neque lux, neque crux, neque_ mourners, _neque_ clink,
He will steal to heaven, unknowing to God, I think,
_A porta inferi_. Who shall your goods possess?
R. ROISTER. Thou shalt be my sector,[113] and have all, more or less.
M. MERRY. _Requiem æternam._ Now, God reward your mastership,
And I will cry halfpenny-dole for your worship,
Come forth, sirs; hear the doleful news I shall you tell.
[_Evocat servos milites._
Our good master here will no longer with us dwell,
But in spite of Custance, which hath him wearied,
Let us see his maship solemnly buried;
And while some piece of his soul is yet him within,
Some part of his funerals let us here begin.
_Audivi vocem._ All men take heed by this one gentleman,
How you set your love upon an unkind woman:
For these women be all such mad, peevish elves,
They will not be won, except to please themselves.
But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in hell,
Master Roister Doister shall serve you as well--
And will ye needs go from us thus in very deed?
R. ROISTER. Yea, in good sadness.
M. MERRY. Now Jesus Christ be your speed.
Good night, Roger, old knave! farewell, Roger, old knave!
Good night, Roger, old knave, knave knap! [_ut infra._[114]
Pray for the late master Roister Doister's soul,
And come forth, parish clerk; let the passing-bell toll.
[_Ad servos milites._
Pray for your master, sirs; and for him ring a peal.
He was your right good master, while he was in heal.
R. ROISTER. _Qui Lazarum._
Heigho!
M. MERRY. Dead men go not so fast _in Paradisum_.
R. ROISTER. Heigho!
M. MERRY. Soft, hear what I have cast.
R. ROISTER. I will hear nothing, I am past.
M. MERRY. Whough, wellaway!
Ye may tarry one hour, and hear what I shall say.
Ye were best, sir, for awhile to revive again,
And quite them, ere ye go.
R. ROISTER. Trowest thou so?
M. MERRY. Yea, plain.
R. ROISTER. How may I revive, being now so far past?
M. MERRY. I will rub your temples, and fet you again at last.
R. ROISTER. It will not be possible.
M. MERRY. Yes, for twenty pound.
R. ROISTER. Arms! what dost thou?
M. MERRY. Fet you again out of your sound.[115]
By this cross, ye were nigh gone indeed; I might feel
Your soul departing within an inch of your heel.
Now follow my counsel--
R. ROISTER. What is it?
M. MERRY. If I were you,
Custance should eft seek to me, ere I would bow.
R. ROISTER. Well, as thou wilt have me, even so will I do.
M. MERRY. Then shall ye revive again for an hour or two.
R. ROISTER. As thou wilt: I am content, for a little space.
M. MERRY. Good hap is not hasty: yet in space cometh grace.
To speak with Custance yourself should be very well;
What good thereof may come, nor I nor you can tell.
But now the matter standeth upon your marriage,
Ye must now take unto you a lusty carriage.[116]
Ye may not speak with a faint heart to Custance.
But with a lusty breast[117] and countenance,
That she may know she hath to answer to a man.
R. ROISTER. Yes, I can do that as well as any can.
M. MERRY. Then, because ye must Custance face to face woo,
Let us see how to behave yourself ye can do.
Ye must have a portly brag after your estate.
R. ROISTER. Tush, I can handle that after the best rate.
M. MERRY. Well done; so, lo! up, man, with your head and chin!
Up with, that snout, man: so lo! now ye begin.
So, that is somewhat like; but, pranky-coat, nay when?
That is a lusty brute! hands unto your side, man:
So, lo! now is it even as it should be;
That is somewhat like for a man of your degree.
Then must ye stately go, jetting up and down.[118]
Tut! can ye no better shake the tail of your gown?
There, lo! such a lusty brag it is ye must make.
R. ROISTER. To come behind, and make curts'y,[119]
thou must some pains take.
M. MERRY. Else were I much to blame. I thank your mastership;
The Lord one day all to begrime you with worship.
Back, Sir Sauce! let gentlefolks have elbow-room.
'Void, sirs, see ye not Master Roister Doister come?
Make place, my masters--
R. ROISTER. Thou jostlest now too nigh.
M. MERRY. Back, all rude louts.
R. ROISTER. Tush.
M. MERRY. I cry your maship mercy.
Hoiday! if fair fine Mistress Custance saw you now,
Ralph Roister Doister were her own, I warrant you.
R. ROISTER. Ne'er a _master_ by your girdle?
M. MERRY. Your good Mastership's
Mastership were her own mistresship's mistresship's.
Ye were take up for hawks; ye were gone, ye were gone:
But now one other thing more yet I think upon.
R. ROISTER. Show what it is.
M. MERRY. A wooer, be he never so poor,
Must play and sing before his best-beloved's door.
How much more then you?
R. ROISTER. Thou speakest well, out of doubt.
And perchance that would make her the sooner come out.[120]
Go call my musicians; bid them hie apace.
M. MERRY. I will be here with them, ere ye can say _trey ace_.
[_Exeat._
R. ROISTER. This was well said of Merrygreek, I 'low his wit,
Before my sweetheart's door we will have a fit,
That, if my love come forth, I may with her talk:
I doubt not but this gear shall on my side walk.
But lo! how well Merrygreek is returned since.
M. MERRY.[121] There hath grown no grass on my
heel, since I went hence:
Lo! here have I brought that shall make you pastance.
R. ROISTER. Come, sirs, let us sing, to win my dear love Custance.
[_Cantent._[122]
M. MERRY. Lo, where she cometh! some countenance to her make;
And ye shall hear me be plain with her for your sake.
ACTUS III., SCÆNA 4.
CUSTANCE, MERRYGREEK, ROISTER DOISTER.
C. CUSTANCE. What gauding and fooling is this afore my door?
M. MERRY. May not folks be honest, pray you, though they be poor?
C. CUSTANCE. As that thing may be true, so rich folks may be fools.
R. ROISTER. Her talk is as fine as she had learned in schools.
M. MERRY. Look partly toward her, and draw a little near.
[_Aside._
C. CUSTANCE. Get ye home, idle folks.
M. MERRY. Why may not we be here?
Nay, and ye will haze, haze;[123] otherwise, I tell you plain,
And ye will not haze, then give us our gear again.
C. CUSTANCE. Indeed, I have of yours much gay things, God save all.
R. ROISTER. Speak gently unto her, and let her take all.
[_Aside._
M. MERRY. Ye are too tender-hearted. Shall she make us daws?
[_Aside._
Nay, dame, I will be plain with you in my friend's cause.
R. ROISTER. Let all this pass, sweetheart, and accept my service.
C. CUSTANCE. I will not be served with a fool in no wise.
When I choose an husband, I hope to take a man.
M. MERRY. And where will ye find one which can do that he can?
Now this man toward you being so kind,
Why not make him an answer somewhat to his mind?
C. CUSTANCE. I sent him a full answer by you, did I not?
M. MERRY. And I reported it.
C. CUSTANCE. Nay, I must speak it again.
R. ROISTER. No, no, he told it all.
M. MERRY. Was I not meetly plain?
R. ROISTER. Yes.
M. MERRY. But I would not tell all; for, faith, if I had,
With you, dame Custance, ere this hour it had been bad;
And not without cause: for this goodly personage
Meant no less than to join with you in marriage.
C. CUSTANCE. Let him waste no more labour nor suit about me.
M. MERRY. Ye know not where your preferment lieth, I see;
He sendeth you such a token, ring and letter.
C. CUSTANCE. Marry, here it is; ye never saw a better.
M. MERRY. Let us see your letter.
C. CUSTANCE. Hold! read it if ye can:
And see what letter it is to win a woman.
M. MERRY. [_reads_:]
_To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,_
_Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by._
Of this superscription do ye blame the style?
C. CUSTANCE. With the rest, as good stuff as ye read a great while.
M. MERRY. [_reads_:]
"Sweet Mistress, where as I love you nothing at all,
Regarding your substance and riches chief of all;
For your personage, beauty, demeanour and wit,
I commend me unto you never a whit.
Sorry to bear report of your good welfare,
For, (as I hear say) such your conditions are,
That ye be worthy favour of no living man;
To be abhorred of every honest man.
To be taken for a woman inclined to vice;
Nothing at all to virtue giving her due price.
Wherefore concerning marriage ye are thought
Such a fine paragon as ne'er honest man bought.
And now by these presents I do you advertise,
That I am minded to marry you in no wise.
For your goods and substance, I could be content
To take you as ye are. If ye mind to be my wife,
Ye shall be assured, for the time of my life,
I will keep ye right well from good raiment and fare;
Ye shall not be kept but in sorrow and care.
Ye shall in no wise live at your own liberty;
Do and say what ye lust, ye shall never please me;
But when ye are merry, I will be all sad;
When ye are sorry, I will be very glad.
When ye seek your heart's ease, I will be unkind;
At no time in me shall ye much gentleness find;
But all things contrary to your will and mind
Shall be done: otherwise I will not be behind
To speak. And as for all them that would do you wrong,
I will so help and maintain, ye shall not live long.
Nor any foolish dolt shall cumber you, but I;
I, whoe'er say nay, will stick by you, till I die.
Thus, good Mistress Custance, the Lord you save and keep
From me, Roister Doister, whether I wake or sleep,
Who favoureth you no less (ye may be bold)
Than this letter purporteth, which ye have unfold."[124]
C. CUSTANCE. How, by this letter of love? is it not fine?
R. ROISTER. By the Arms of Calais, it is none of mine.
M. MERRY. Fie! you are foul to blame; this is your own hand.
C. CUSTANCE. Might not a woman be proud of such an husband?
M. MERRY. Ah, that ye would in a letter show such despite!
R. ROISTER. O, I would I had him here, the which did it indite!
M. MERRY. Why, ye made it yourself, ye told me, by this light!
R. ROISTER. Yea, I meant I wrote it mine own self yesternight.
C. CUSTANCE. I-wis, sir, I would not have sent you such a mock.
R. ROISTER. Ye may so take it; but I meant it not so, by Cock.
M. MERRY. Who can blame this woman to fume, and fret, and rage?
Tut, tut, yourself now have marred your own marriage. [_Aside._
Well yet, Mistress Custance, if ye can this remit;
This gentleman otherwise may your love requite.
C. CUSTANCE. No, God be with you both, and seek no more to me.
[_Exit._
R. ROISTER. Wough! she is gone for ever, I shall her no more see.
M. MERRY. What, weep? Fie for shame! And blubber? For manhood's sake!
Never let your foe so much pleasure of you take.
Rather play the man's part, and do love refrain:
If she despise you, e'en despise ye her again.
R. ROISTER. By Goss[125] and for thy sake, I defy her indeed!
M. MERRY. Yea, and perchance that way ye shall much sooner speed;
For one mad property these women have, in fay,[126]
When ye will, they will not: will not ye? then will they.
Ah, foolish woman! ah, most unlucky Custance!
Ah, unfortunate woman! ah, peevish Custance,
Art thou to thine harms so obstinately bent,
That thou canst not see where lieth thine high preferment?
Canst thou not lub dis man, which could lub dee so well?
Art thou so much thine own foe?
R. ROISTER. Thou dost the truth tell.
M. MERRY. Well, I lament.
R. ROISTER. So do I.
M. MERRY. Wherefore?
R. ROISTER. For this thing,
Because she is gone.
M. MERRY. I mourn for another thing.
R. ROISTER. What is it, Merrygreek, wherefore thou dost grief take?
M. MERRY. That I am not a woman myself, for your sake.
I would have you myself, and a straw for yond Gill,
And mock much of you, though it were against my will.
I would not, I warrant you, fall in such a rage,
As so to refuse such a goodly personage.
R. ROISTER. In faith, I heartily thank thee, Merrygreek.
M. MERRY. And I were a woman----
R. ROISTER. Thou wouldest to me seek.
M. MERRY. For, though I say it, a goodly person ye be.
R. ROISTER. No, no.
M. MERRY. Yes, a goodly man, as e'er I did see.
R. ROISTER. No, I am a poor homely man, as God made me.
M. MERRY. By the faith that I owe to God, sir, but ye be.
Would I might, for your sake, spend a thousand pound land.
R. ROISTER. I daresay thou wouldest have me to thy husband.
M. MERRY. Yea, and I were the fairest lady in the shire,
And knew you as I know you, and see you now here--
Well, I say no more--
R. ROISTER. Gramercies, with all my heart.
M. MERRY. But, since that cannot be, will ye play a wise part?
R. ROISTER. How should I?
M. MERRY. Refrain from Custance a while now,
And I warrant her soon right glad to seek to you.
Ye shall see her anon come on her knees creeping,
And pray you to be good to her, salt tears weeping.
R. ROISTER. But what, and she come not?
M. MERRY. In faith, then, farewell she.
Or else, if ye be wroth, ye may avenged be.
R. ROISTER. By Cock's precious potstick, and e'en so I shall;
I will utterly destroy her, and house and all.
But I would be avenged in the mean space,
On that vile scribbler, that did my wooing disgrace.
M. MERRY. Scribbler, ko you? Indeed, he is worthy no less.
I will call him to you, and ye bid me, doubtless.
R. ROISTER. Yes, for although he had as many lives
As a thousand widows and a thousand wives,
As a thousand lions and a thousand rats,
A thousand wolves and a thousand cats,
A thousand bulls and a thousand calves,
And a thousand legions divided in halves,
He shall never 'scape death on my sword's point,
Though I should be torn therefore joint by joint.
M. MERRY. Nay, if ye will kill him, I will not fet him,
I will not in so much extremity set him.
He may yet amend, sir, and be an honest man;
Therefore pardon him, good soul, as much as ye can.
R. ROISTER. Well, for thy sake, this once with his life he shall pass;
But I will hew him all to pieces, by the mass--
M. MERRY. Nay, faith, ye shall promise that he shall no harm have,
Else I will not fet him.
R. ROISTER. I shall, so God me save!
But I may chide him a good.[127]
M. MERRY. Yea, that do hardily.
R. ROISTER. Go then.
M. MERRY. I return, and bring him to you by and by.[128] [_Ex._
ACTUS III., SCÆNA V.
ROISTER DOISTER, MATTHEW MERRYGREEK.
R. ROISTER. What is a gentleman, but his word and his promise?
I must now save this villain's life in any wise;
And yet at him already my hands do tickle,
I shall unneth[129] hold them, they will be so fickle.
But lo, and Merrygreek have not brought him sens![130]
M. MERRY. Nay, I would I had of my purse paid fortypence.
SCRIVENER. So would I too; but it needed not that stound.[131]
M. MERRY. But the gentman had rather spent five thousand pound;
For it disgraced him at least five times as much.
[_Enter_ SCRIVENER _at one side_.]
SCRIVENER. He disgraced himself, his loutishness is such.
R. ROISTER. How long they stand prating. (_To Merry._)
Why com'st thou not away?
M. MERRY. (_to Scriv._) Come now to himself, and hark what he will say.
SCRIVENER. I am not afraid in his presence to appear.
R ROISTER. Art thou come, fellow?
SCRIVENER. How think you? Am I not here?
R. ROISTER. What hindrance hast thou done me, and what villainy!
SCRIVENER. It hath come of thyself, if thou hast had any.
R. ROISTER. All the stock thou comest of, later or rather,[132]
From thy first father's grandfather's father's father,
Nor all that shall come of thee, to the world's end,
Though to three score generations they descend,
Can be able to make a just recompense
For this trespass of thine and this one offence.
SCRIVENER. Wherein?
R. ROISTER. Did not you make me a letter, brother?
SCRIVENER. Pay the like hire, I will make you such an other.
R. Roister. Nay, see, and these whoreson Pharisees and Scribes
Do not get their living by polling[133] and bribes.
If it were not for shame----
M. MERRY. Nay, hold thy hands still.[134]
Why, did ye not promise that ye would not him spill?[135]
SCRIVENER. Let him not spare me.
R. ROISTER. Why, wilt thou strike me again?
SCRIVENER. Ye shall have as good as ye bring of me, that is plain.
M. MERRY. I cannot blame him, sir, though your blows would him grieve;
For he knoweth present death to ensue of all ye give.
R. ROISTER. Well, this man for once hath purchased thy pardon.
SCRIVENER. And what say ye to me? or else I will be gone.
R. Roister. I say, the letter thou madest me was not good.
SCRIVENER. Then did ye wrong copy it, of likelihood.
R. ROISTER. Yes, out of thy copy, word for word, I it wrote.
SCRIVENER. Then was it as you prayed to have it, I wot:
But in reading and pointing there was made some fault.
R. ROISTER. I wot not; but it made all my matter to halt.
SCRIVENER. How say you, is this mine original, or no?
R. ROISTER. The self same that I wrote out of, so mot I go.
SCRIVENER. Look you on your own fist, and I will look on this.
And let this man be judge, whether I read amiss.
_To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,
Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by._
How now? doth not this superscription agree?
R. ROISTER. Read that is within, and there ye shall the fault see.
SCRIVENER.
"Sweet Mistress, whereas I love you; nothing at all
Regarding your riches and substance; chief of all
For your personage, beauty, demeanour and wit,
I commend me unto you; never a whit
Sorry to hear report of your good welfare;
For (as I hear say) such your conditions are,
That ye be worthy favour; of no living man
To be abhorred; of every honest man
To be taken for a woman inclined to vice
Nothing at all; to virtue giving her due price.
Wherefore, concerning marriage, ye are thought
Such a fine paragon as ne'er honest man bought.
And now, by these presents, I do you advertise
That I am minded to marry you; in no wise
For your goods and substance; I can be content
To take you as ye are. If ye will be my wife,
Ye shall be assured for the time of my life
I will keep ye right well: from good raiment and fare
Ye shall not be kept: but in sorrow and care
Ye shall in no wise live; at your own liberty
Do and say what ye lust; ye shall never please me,
But when ye are merry; I will be all sad,
When ye are sorry; I will be very glad,
When ye seek your heart's ease; I will be unkind
At no time; in me shall ye much gentleness find.
But all things contrary to your will and mind
Shall be done otherwise. I will not be behind
To speak; and as for all they that would do you wrong
(I will so help and maintain ye) shall not live long,
Nor any foolish dolt shall cumber you; but I--
I whoe'er say nay, will stick by you till I die.
Thus, good Mistress Custance, the Lord you save and keep!
From me, Roister Doister, whether I wake or sleep,
Who favoureth you no less (ye may be bold)
Than this letter purporteth, which ye have unfold."
Now, sir, what default can ye find in this letter?
R. ROISTER. Of truth, in my mind, there cannot be a better.
SCRIVENER. Then was the fault in reading, and not in writing,
No, nor, I dare say, in the form of inditing.
But who read this letter, that it sounded so nought?
M. MERRY. I read it indeed.
SCRIVENER. Ye read it not as ye ought.
R. ROISTER. Why, thou wretched villain, was all this same fault
in thee?
M. MERRY. I knock your costard,[136] if ye offer to strike me.
R ROISTER. Strikest thou indeed, and I offer but in jest?
M. MERRY. Yea, and rap ye again, except ye can sit in rest.
And I will no longer tarry here, me believe.
R. ROISTER. What, wilt thou be angry, and I do thee forgive?
Fare thou well, scribbler; I cry thee mercy indeed.
SCRIVENER. Fare ye well, bibbler, and worthily may ye speed.
R. ROISTER. If it were another than thou, it were a knave.
M. MERRY. Ye are another yourself, sir, the Lord us both save;
Albeit in this matter I must your pardon crave.
Alas! would ye wish in me the wit that ye have?
But, as for my fault, I can quickly amend:
I will show Custance it was I that did offend.
R. ROISTER. By so doing her anger may be reformed.
M. MERRY. But if by no entreaty she will be turned,
Then set light by her, and be as testy as she,
And do your force upon her with extremity.
R. ROISTER. Come on therefore; let us go home in sadness.
M. MERRY. That if force shall need, all may be in readiness.[137]
And as for this letter, hardily let all go;
We will know, whe'er she refuse you for that or no.
[_Exeant amb._
FOOTNOTES:
[102] Truepenny goes out here, but the old copy omits his
_exit_.--_Cooper._
[103] [Original, _her_.]
[104] [Shield.]
[105] A fool or blockhead. See act v., scenes 2 and 5. "Cough me a
fool" is common in old plays.--_Cooper._