Roister Doister | Page 7

be
intangled that way. I woulde medle no more, since I fynde all so
vnkinde.
+R. Royster.+ Yea, but I can not so put loue out of my minde.
+Math. Mer.+ But is your loue tell me first, in any wise, In the way of
Mariage, or of Merchandise? If it may otherwise than lawfull be founde,
Ye get none of my helpe for an hundred pounde.
+R. Royster.+ No by my trouth I woulde haue hir to my Wife.
+M. Mery.+ Then are ye a good man, and God saue your life, And
what or who is she, with whome ye are in loue?
+R. Royster.+ A woman whome I knowe not by what meanes to moue.
+M. Mery.+ Who is it?
+R. Royster.+ A woman yond.
+M. Mery.+ What is hir name?

+R. Royster.+ Hir yonder.
+M. Mery.+ Whom.
+R. Royster.+ Mistresse ah.
+M. Mery.+ Fy fy for shame Loue ye, and know not whome? but hir
yonde, a Woman, We shall then get you a Wyfe, I can not tell whan.
+R. Royster.+ The faire Woman, that supped wyth vs yesternyght, And
I hearde hir name twice or thrice, and had it ryght.
+M. Mery.+ Yea, ye may see ye nere take me to good cheere with you,
If ye had, I coulde haue tolde you hir name now.
+R. Royster.+ I was to blame in deede, but the nexte tyme perchaunce:
And she dwelleth in this house.
+M. Mery.+ What Christian Custance.
+R. Royster.+ Except I haue hir to my Wife, I shall runne madde.
+M. Mery.+ Nay vnwise perhaps, but I warrant you for madde.
+R. Royster.+ I am vtterly dead vnlesse I haue my desire.
+M. Mery.+ Where be the bellowes that blewe this sodeine fire?
+R. Royster.+ I heare she is worthe a thousande pounde and more.
+M. Mery.+ Yea, but learne this one lesson of me afore, An hundred
pounde of Marriage money doubtlesse, Is euer thirtie pounde sterlyng,
or somewhat lesse, So that hir Thousande pounde yf she be thriftie, Is
muche neere about two hundred and fiftie, Howebeit wowers and
Widowes are neuer poore.
+R. Royster.+ Is she a Widowe? I loue hir better therefore.
+M. Mery.+ But I heare she hath made promise to another.

+R. Royster.+ He shall goe without hir, and he were my brother.
+M. Mery.+ I haue hearde say, I am right well aduised, That she hath to
Gawyn Goodlucke promised.
+R. Royster.+ What is that Gawyn Goodlucke?
+M. Mery.+ a Merchant man.
+R. Royster.+ Shall he speede afore me? nay sir by sweete Sainct Anne.
Ah sir, Backare quod Mortimer to his sowe, I wyll haue hir myne owne
selfe I make God a vow. For I tell thee, she is worthe a thousande
pounde.
+M. Mery.+ Yet a fitter wife for your maship might be founde: Suche a
goodly man as you, might get one wyth lande, Besides poundes of
golde a thousande and a thousande, And a thousande, and a thousande,
and a thousande, And so to the summe of twentie hundred thousande,
Your most goodly personage is worthie of no lesse.
+R. Royster.+ I am sorie God made me so comely doubtlesse. For that
maketh me eche where so highly fauoured, And all women on me so
enamoured.
+M. Mery.+ Enamoured quod you? haue ye spied out that? Ah sir,
mary nowe I see you know what is what. Enamoured ka? mary sir say
that againe, But I thought not ye had marked it so plaine.
+R. Royster.+ Yes, eche where they gaze all vpon me and stare.
+M. Mery.+ Yea malkyn, I warrant you as muche as they dare. And ye
will not beleue what they say in the streete, When your mashyp passeth
by all such as I meete, That sometimes I can scarce finde what
aunswere to make. Who is this (sayth one) sir Launcelot du lake? Who
is this, greate Guy of Warwike, sayth an other? No (say I) it is the
thirtenth Hercules brother. Who is this? noble Hector of Troy, sayth the
thirde? No, but of the same nest (say I) it is a birde. Who is this? greate
Goliah, Sampson, or Colbrande? No (say I) but it is a brute of the Alie

lande. Who is this? greate Alexander? or Charle le Maigne? No, it is
the tenth Worthie, say I to them agayne: I knowe not if I sayd well.
+R. Royster.+ Yes for so I am.
+M. Mery.+ Yea, for there were but nine worthies before ye came. To
some others, the thirde Cato I doe you call. And so as well as I can I
aunswere them all. Sir I pray you, what lorde or great gentleman is this?
Maister Ralph Roister Doister dame say I, ywis. O Lorde (sayth she
than) what a