 | [Ralph Roister Doister] |  |
Scæne. iij.
Mathew Merygreeke. Roister Doister.M. Mery.
Nowe that the whole answere in my deuise doth rest,
I shall paint out our wower in colours of the best.
And all that I say shall be on Custances mouth,
She is author of all that I shall speake forsoth.
But yond commeth Roister Doister nowe in a traunce.
R. Royster.
Iuno sende me this day good lucke and good chaunce.
I can not but come see how Merygreeke doth speede.
M. Mery.
I will not see him, but giue him a iutte in deede.
I crie your mastershyp mercie.
R. R.
And whither now?
M. Mery.
As fast as I could runne sir in poste against you.
But why speake ye so faintly, or why are ye so sad?
R. Royster.
Thou knowest the prouerbe, bycause I can not be had.
Hast thou spoken with this woman?
M. M.
Yea that I haue.
R. Royster.
And what will this geare be?
M. M.
No so God me saue.
Hast thou a flat answer?
M. M.
Nay a sharp answer.
R R
What
M. Mery.
Ye shall not (she sayth) by hir will marry hir cat.
Ye are such a calfe, such an asse, such a blocke,
Such a lilburne, such a hoball, such a lobcocke,
And bicause ye shoulde come to hir at no season,
She despised your maship out of all reason.
Bawawe what ye say (ko I) of such a ientman,
Nay I feare him not (ko she) doe the best he can.
He vaunteth him selfe for a man of prowesse greate,
Where as a good gander I dare say may him beate.
And where he is louted and laughed to skorne,
For the veriest dolte that euer was borne,
And veriest lubber, slouen and beast,
Yet of himselfe hath he suche opinion,
That in all the worlde is not the like minion.
He thinketh eche woman to be brought in dotage
With the onely sight of his goodly personage:
Yet none that will haue hym: we do hym loute and flocke,
And make him among vs, our common sporting stocke,
And so would I now (ko she) saue onely bicause,
Better nay (ko I) I lust not medle with dawes.
Ye are happy (ko I) that ye are a woman,
This would cost you your life in case ye were a man.
R. Royster.
Yea an hundred thousand pound should not saue hir life.
M. Mery.
No but that ye wowe hir to haue hir to your wife,
But I coulde not stoppe hir mouth.
R. R.
Heigh how alas,
M. Mery.
Be of good cheere man, and let the worlde passe.
R. Royster.
What shall I doe or say nowe that it will not bee.
M. Mery.
Ye shall haue choise of a thousande as good as shee,
And ye must pardon hir, it is for lacke of witte.
R. Royster.
Yea, for were not I an husbande for hir fitte?
Well what should I now doe?
M. M.
In faith I can not tell.
R. Royster.
I will go home and die.
M. M.
Then shall I bidde toll the bell?
R. Royster.
No.
M. M.
God haue mercie on your soule, ah good gentleman,
That er ye shuld ths dye for an vnkinde woman,
Will ye drinke once ere ye goe.
R. R.
No, no, I will none.
M. Mery.
How feele your soule to God.
R. R.
I am nigh gone.
M. Mery.
And shall we hence streight?
R. R.
Yea.
M. M.
Placebo dilexi. vt infra.
Maister Roister Doister will streight go home and die.
R. Royster.
Heigh how, alas, the pangs of death my hearte do breake.
M. Mery.
Holde your peace for shame sir, a dead man may not speake.
Nequando: What mourners and what torches shall we haue?
R. Royster.
None.
M. M.
Dirige. He will go darklyng to his graue,
Neque lux, neque crux, neque mourners, neque clinke,
He will steale to heauen, vnknowing to God I thinke.
A porta inferi, who shall your goodes possesse?
Thou shalt be my sectour, and haue all more and lesse.
M. Mery.
Requiem æternam. Now God reward your mastershyp.
And I will crie halfepenie doale for your worshyp.
Come forth sirs, heare the dolefull newes I shall you tell.
Euocat seruos militis.
Our good maister here will no longer with vs dwell,
But in spite of Custance, which hath hym weried,
Let vs see his mashyp solemnely buried.
And while some piece of his soule is yet hym within,
Some part of his funeralls let vs here begin.
Audiui vocem, All men take heede by this one gentleman,
Howe you sette your loue vpon an vnkinde woman.
For these women be all such madde pieuishe elues,
They will not be wonne except it please them selues.
But in fayth Custance if euer ye come in hell,
Maister Roister Doister shall serue you as well.
And will ye needes go from vs thus in very deede?
R. Royster.
Yea in good sadnesse?
M. M.
Now Iesus Christ be your speede.
Good night Roger olde knaue, farewell Roger olde knaue,
Good night Roger olde knaue, knaue knap. vt infra.
Pray for the late maister Roister Doisters soule,
And come forth parish Clarke, let the passing bell toll.
Ad seruos militis.
Pray for your mayster sirs, and for hym ring a peale.
He was your right good maister while he was in heale.
Qui Lazarum.
R. R.
Heigh how.
M. M.
Dead men go not so fast
In Paradisum.
R. R.
Heihow.
M. M.
Soft, heare what I haue cast
R. Royster.
I will heare nothing, I am past.
M. M.
Whough, wellaway.
Ye may tarie one houre, and heare what I shall say,
Ye were best sir for a while to reuiue againe,
And quite thē er ye go.
R. R.
Trowest thou so?
M. M.
Ye plain.
R. Royster.
How may I reuiue being nowe so farre past?
M. Mery.
I will rubbe your temples, and fette you againe at last.
R. Royster.
It will not be possible.
M. M.
Yes for twentie pounde.
R. Royster.
Armes what dost thou?
M. M.
Fet you again out of your soūd
By this crosse ye were nigh gone in deede, I might feele
Now folow my counsell.
R. R.
What is it?
M. M.
If I wer you,
Custance should eft seeke to me, ere I woulde bowe.
R. Royster.
Well, as thou wilt haue me, euen so will I doe.
M. Mery.
Then shall ye reuiue againe for an houre or two.
R. Royster.
As thou wilt I am content for a little space.
M. Mery.
Good happe is not hastie: yet in space comth grace,
To speake with Custance your selfe shoulde be very well,
What good therof may come, nor I, nor you can tell.
But now the matter standeth vpon your mariage,
Ye must now take vnto you a lustie courage.
Ye may not speake with a faint heart to Custance,
But with a lusty breast and countenance,
That she may knowe she hath to answere to a man.
R. Royster.
Yes I can do that as well as any can.
M. Mery.
Then bicause ye must Custance face to face wowe,
Let vs see how to behaue your selfe ye can doe.
Ye must haue a portely bragge after your estate.
R. Roister.
Tushe, I can handle that after the best rate.
M. Mery.
Well done, so loe, vp man with your head and chin,
Up with that snoute man: so loe, nowe ye begin,
So, that is somewhat like, but prankie cote, nay whan,
That is a lustie brute, handes vnder your side man:
So loe, now is it euen as it shoulde bee,
That is somewhat like, for a man of your degree.
Then must ye stately goe, ietting vp and downe,
Tut, can ye no better shake the taile of your gowne?
There loe, suche a lustie bragge it is ye must make.
R. Royster.
To come behind, and make curtsie, thou must som pains take.
M. Mery.
Else were I much to blame, I thanke your mastershyp
The lorde one day all to begrime you with worshyp,
Backe sir sauce, let gentlefolkes haue elbowe roome,
Uoyde sirs, see ye not maister Roister Doister come?
Make place my maisters.
R. R.
Thou iustlest nowe to nigh.
Back al rude loutes.
R. R.
Tush.
M. M.
I crie your maship mercy
Hoighdagh, if faire fine mistresse Custance sawe you now,
Ralph Royster Doister were hir owne I warrant you.
R. Royster.
Neare an M by your girdle?
M. M.
Your good mastershyps
Maistershyp, were hir owne Mistreshyps mistreshyps,
Ye were take vp for haukes, ye were gone, ye were gone,
But now one other thing more yet I thinke vpon.
R. Royster.
Shewe what it is.
M. M.
A wower be he neuer so poore
Must play and sing before his best belouesdoore,
How much more than you?
R. R.
Thou speakest wel out of dout.
M. Mery.
And perchaunce that woulde make hir the sooner come out.
R. Royster.
Goe call my Musitians, bydde them high apace.
M. Mery.
I wyll be here with them ere ye can say trey ace.
Exeat.
R. Royster.
This was well sayde of Merygreeke, I lowe hys wit,
Before my sweete hearts dore we will haue a fit.
That if my loue come forth, that I may with hir talke,
I doubt not but this geare shall on my side walke.
But lo, how well Merygreeke is returned sence.
M. Mery.
There hath grown no grasse on my heele since I went hence,
Lo here haue I brought that shall make you pastance.
R. Royster.
Come sirs let vs sing to winne my deare loue Custance.
Cantent.
M. Mery.
Lo where she commeth, some countenaunce to hir make
And ye shall heare me be plaine with hir for your sake.
| [Ralph Roister Doister] | |