Roister Doister | Page 8

goodly man it is, Woulde Christ I had such a husbande as
he is. O Lorde (say some) that the sight of his face we lacke: It is
inough for you (say I) to see his backe. His face is for ladies of high
and noble parages. With whome he hardly scapeth great mariages. With
muche more than this, and much otherwise.
+R. Royster.+ I can thee thanke that thou canst suche answeres deuise:
But I perceyue thou doste me throughly knowe.
+M. Mery.+ I marke your maners for myne owne learnyng I trowe, But
suche is your beautie, and suche are your actes, Suche is your
personage, and suche are your factes, That all women faire and fowle,
more and lesse, That eye you, they lubbe you, they talke of you
doubtlesse, Your p[l]easant looke maketh them all merie, Ye passe not
by, but they laugh till they be werie, Yea and money coulde I haue the
truthe to tell, Of many, to bryng you that way where they dwell.
+R. Royster.+ Merygreeke for this thy reporting well of mee:
+M. Mery.+ What shoulde I else sir, it is my duetie pardee:
+R. Royster.+ I promise thou shalt not lacke, while I haue a grote.
+M. Mery.+ Faith sir, and I nere had more nede of a newe cote.
+R. Royster.+ Thou shalte haue one to morowe, and golde for to
spende.
+M. Mery.+ Then I trust to bring the day to a good ende. For as for

mine owne parte hauing money inowe, I could lyue onely with the
remembrance of you. But nowe to your Widowe whome you loue so
hotte.
+R. Royster.+ By cocke thou sayest truthe, I had almost forgotte.
+M. Mery.+ What if Christian Custance will not haue you what?
+R. Royster.+ Haue me? yes I warrant you, neuer doubt of that, I
knowe she loueth me, but she dare not speake.
+M. Mery.+ In deede meete it were some body should it breake.
+R. Royster.+ She looked on me twentie tymes yesternight, And
laughed so.
+M. Mery.+ That she coulde not sitte vpright,
+R. Royster.+ No faith coulde she not.
+M. Mery.+ No euen such a thing I cast.
+R. Royster.+ But for wowyng thou knowest women are shamefast.
But and she knewe my minde, I knowe she would be glad, And thinke
it the best chaunce that euer she had.
+M. Mery.+ Too hir then like a man, and be bolde forth to starte,
Wowers neuer speede well, that haue a false harte.
+R. Royster.+ What may I best doe?
+M. Mery.+ Sir remaine ye a while, Ere long one or other of hir house
will appere. Ye knowe my minde.
+R. Royster.+ Yea now hardly lette me alone.
+M. Mery.+ In the meane time sir, if you please, I wyll home, And call
your Musitians, for in this your case It would sette you forth, and all
your wowyng grace, Ye may not lacke your instrumentes to play and

sing.
+R. Royster.+ Thou knowest I can doe that.
+M. Mery.+ As well as any thing. Shall I go call your folkes, that ye
may shewe a cast?
+R. Royster.+ Yea runne I beseeche thee in all possible haste.
+M. Mery.+ I goe. Exeat.
+R. Royster.+ Yea for I loue singyng out of measure, It comforteth my
spirites and doth me great pleasure. But who commeth forth yond from
my swete hearte Custance? My matter frameth well, thys is a luckie
chaunce.
Actus. j. Scæna. iij.
+Mage Mumble crust+, spinning on the distaffe. +Tibet Talk apace+,
sowyng. +Annot Alyface+ knittyng. +R. Roister.+
+M. Mumbl.+ If thys distaffe were spoonne Margerie Mumblecrust.
+Tib Talk.+ Where good stale ale is will drinke no water I trust.
+M. Mumbl.+ Dame Custance hath promised vs good ale and white
bread.
+Tib Talk.+ If she kepe not promise, I will beshrewe her head: But it
will be starke nyght before I shall haue done.
+R. Royster.+ I will stande here a while, and talke with them anon, I
heare them speake of Custance, which doth my heart good, To heare hir
name spoken doth euen comfort my blood.
+M. Mumbl.+ Sit downe to your worke Tibet like a good girle.
+Tib. Talk.+ Nourse medle you with your spyndle and your whirle, No
haste but good, Madge Mumblecrust, for whip and whurre The olde

prouerbe doth say, neuer made good furre.
+M. Mumbl.+ Well, ye wyll sitte downe to your worke anon, I trust.
+Tib. Talk.+ Soft fire maketh sweete malte, good Madge Mumblecrust.
+M. Mumbl.+ And sweete malte maketh ioly good ale for the nones.
+Tib. Talk.+ Whiche will slide downe the lane without any bones.
Cantet. Olde browne bread crustes must haue much good mumblyng,
But good ale downe your throte hath good easie tumbling.
+R. Royster.+ The iolyest