 | [Ralph Roister Doister] |  |
Actus. j.
Scæna. j.
Mathewe Merygreeke.He entreth singing.
As long lyueth the mery man (they say)
As doth the sory man, and longer by a day.
Yet the Grassehopper for all his Sōmer pipyng,
Sterueth in Winter wyth hungrie gripyng,
Therefore an other sayd sawe doth men aduise,
That they be together both mery and wise.
Thys Lesson must I practise, or else ere long,
Wyth mee Mathew Merygreeke it will be wrong.
In deede men so call me, for by him that vs bought,
What euer chaunce betide, I can take no thought,
Yet wisedome woulde that I did my selfe bethinke
Where to be prouided this day of meate and drinke:
For knowe ye, that for all this merie note of mine,
He might appose me now that should aske where I dine.
My lyuing lieth heere and there, of Gods grace,
Sometime wyth this good man, sometyme in that place,
Sometime Lewis Loytrer biddeth me come neere,
Somewhyles Watkin Waster maketh vs good cheere,
Sometime Dauy Diceplayer when he hath well cast
Keepeth reuell route as long as it will last.
Sometime Tom Titiuile maketh vs a feast,
Sometime with sir Hugh Pye I am a bidden gueast,
Sometime at Nichol Neuerthriues I get a soppe,
Sometime I am feasted with Bryan Blinkinsoppe,
Sometime I hang on Hankyn Hoddydodies sleeue,
But thys day on Ralph Royster Doysters by hys leeue.
For truely of all men he is my chiefe banker
Both for meate and money, and my chiefe shootanker.
For, sooth Roister Doister in that he doth say,
And require what ye will ye shall haue no nay.
That ye may esteeme him after hys worthinesse,
In these twentie townes and seke them throughout,
Is not the like stocke, whereon to graffe a loute.
All the day long is he facing and craking
Of his great actes in fighting and fraymaking:
But when Roister Doister is put to his proofe,
To keepe the Queenes peace is more for his behoofe.
If any woman smyle or cast on hym an eye,
Up is he to the harde eares in loue by and by,
And in all the hotte haste must she be hys wife,
Else farewell hys good days, and farewell his life,
Maister Raufe Royster Doister is but dead and gon
Excepte she on hym take some compassion,
Then chiefe of counsell, must be Mathew Merygreeke,
What if I for mariage to suche an one seeke?
Then must I sooth it, what euer it is:
For what he sayth or doth can not be amisse,
Holde vp his yea and nay, be his nowne white sonne,
Prayse and rouse him well, and ye haue his heart wonne,
For so well liketh he his owne fonde fashions
That he taketh pride of false commendations.
But such sporte haue I with him as I would not leese,
Though I should be bounde to lyue with bread and cheese.
For exalt hym, and haue hym as ye lust in deede:
Yea to hold his finger in a hole for a neede.
I can with a worde make him fayne or loth,
I can with as much make him pleased or wroth,
I can when I will make him mery and glad,
I can when me lust make him sory and sad,
I can set him in hope and eke in dispaire,
I can make him speake rough, and make him speake faire.
But I maruell I see hym not all thys same day,
I wyll seeke him out: But loe he commeth thys way,
And in loue for twentie pounde, by hys glommyng.
Scæna. ij.
Rafe Roister Doister. Mathew Merygreeke.R. Royster.
Come death when thou wilt, I am weary of my life.
M. Mery.
I tolde you I, we should wowe an other wife.
R. Royster.
Why did God make me suche a goodly person?
M. Mery.
He is in by the weke, we shall haue sport anon.
R. Royster.
And where is my trustie friende Mathew Merygreeke?
M. Mery.
I wyll make as I sawe him not, he doth me seeke.
R. Roister.
I haue hym espyed me thinketh, yond is hee,
Hough Mathew Merygreeke my friend, a worde with thee.
M. Mery.
I wyll not heare him, but make as I had haste,
Farewell all my good friendes, the tyme away dothe waste,
And the tide they say, tarieth for no man.
R. Roister.
Thou must with thy good counsell helpe me if thou can.
M. Mery.
God keepe thee worshypfull Maister Roister Doister,
And fare well the lustie Maister Roister Doister.
R. Royster.
I muste needes speake with thee a worde or twaine.
M. Mery.
Within a month or two I will be here againe,
Negligence in greate affaires ye knowe may marre all.
R. Roister.
Attende vpon me now, and well rewarde thee I shall.
M. Mery.
I haue take my leaue, and the tide is well spent.
R. Roister.
I die except thou helpe, I pray thee be content,
Doe thy parte wel nowe, and aske what thou wilt,
For without thy aide my matter is all spilt.
M. Mery.
Then to serue your turne I will some paines take,
And let all myne owne affaires alone for your sake.
R. Royster.
My whole hope and trust resteth onely in thee,
M. Mery.
Then can ye not doe amisse what euer it bee.
Gramercies Merygreeke, most bounde to thee I am.
M. Mery.
But vp with that heart, and speake out like a ramme,
Ye speake like a Capon that had the cough now:
Bee of good cheere, anon ye shall doe well ynow.
R. Royster.
Upon thy comforte, I will all things well handle.
M. Mery.
So loe, that is a breast to blowe out a candle.
But what is this great matter I woulde faine knowe,
We shall fynde remedie therefore I trowe.
Doe ye lacke money? ye knowe myne olde offers,
Ye haue always a key to my purse and coffers.
R. Royster.
I thanke thee: had euer man suche a frende?
M. Mery.
Ye gyue vnto me: I must needes to you lende.
R. Royster.
Nay I haue money plentie all things to discharge.
M. Mery.
That knewe I ryght well when I made offer so large.
But it is no suche matter.
M. M.
What is it than?
Are ye in daunger of debte to any man?
If ye be, take no thought nor be not afraide,
Let them hardly take thought how they shall be paide.
R. Royster.
Tut I owe nought.
M. M.
What thē? fear ye imprisonment?
R. R.
No.
M. M.
No I wist ye offende, not so to be shent.
But if he had, the Toure coulde not you so holde,
But to breake out at all times ye would be bolde.
What is it? hath any man threatned you to beate?
R. Royster.
What is he that durst haue put me in that heate?
He that beateth me by his armes shall well fynde,
That I will not be farre from him nor runne behinde.
M. Mery.
That thing knowe all men euer since ye ouerthrewe,
The fellow of the Lion which Hercules slewe.
But what is it than?
R. R.
Of loue I make my mone.
M. Mery.
Ah this foolishe a loue, wilt neare let vs alone?
But bicause ye were refused the last day,
Ye sayd ye woulde nere more 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.
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. R.
A woman yond.
M. M.
What is hir name?
R. Royster.
Hir yōder.
M. M.
Whō?
R. R.
Mistresse ah.
M. M.
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 yesternight,
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. M.
What Christiā 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 aboute 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.
What is that Gawyn Goodlucke?
M. M.
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. R.
Yes for so I am.
M. Mery.
Yea, for there were but nine worthies before ye came.
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 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 thoughly 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,
They eye you, they lubbe you, they talke of you doubtlesse.
Your peasant 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 coulde 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. Roister.
Haue me? yes I warrant you, neuer doubt of that,
M. Mery.
In deede meete it were some body should it breake.
R. Roister.
She looked on me twentie tymes yesternight,
And laughed so.
M. M.
That she coulde not sitte vpright,
R. Roister.
No faith coulde she not.
M. M.
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. Roister.
What may I best doe?
M. M.
Sir remaine ye a while,
Ere long one or other of hir house will appere.
Ye knowe my minde.
R. R.
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. M.
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. R.
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.
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.
If she kepe not promise, I will beshrewe hir 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.
But good ale downe your throte hath good easie tumbling.
R. Royster.
The iolyest wenche that ere I hearde, little mouse,
May I not reioyce that she shall dwell in my house?
Tib Talk.
So sirrha, nowe this geare beginneth for to frame.
M. Mumbl.
Thanks to God, though your work stand stil, your tōg is not lame
Tib. Talk.
And though your teeth be gone, both so sharpe & so fine
Yet your tongue can renne on patins as well as mine.
M. Mumbl.
Ye were not for nought named Tyb Talke apace.
Tib Talk.
Doth my talke grieue you? Alack, God saue your grace.
M. Mumbl.
I holde a grote ye will drinke anon for this geare.
Tib Talk.
And I wyll not pray you the stripes for me to beare.
M. Mumbl.
I holde a penny, ye will drinke without a cup.
Tib Talk.
Wherein so ere ye drinke, I wote ye drinke all vp.
An. Alyface
By Cock and well sowed, my good Tibet Talke apace.
Tib Talk.
And een as well knitte my nowne Annot Alyface.
R. Royster.
See what a sort she kepeth that must be my wife.
Shall not I when I haue hir, leade a merrie life?
Tib Talk.
Welcome my good wenche, and sitte here by me iust.
An. Alyface.
And howe doth our olde beldame here, Mage Mumblecrust?
Tib Talk.
Chyde, and finde faultes, and threaten to complaine.
To make vs poore girles shent to hir is small gaine.
M. Mumbl.
I dyd neyther chyde, nor complaine, nor threaten.
R. Royster.
It woulde grieue my heart to see one of them beaten.
M. Mumbl.
I dyd nothyng but byd hir worke and holde hir peace.
Tib Talk.
So would I, if you coulde your clattering ceasse:
But the deuill can not make olde trotte holde hir tong.
An. Alyface.
Let all these matters passe, and we three sing a song,
So shall we pleasantly bothe the tyme beguile now,
And eke dispatche all our workes 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. Royster.
And I will not away, but listen to their song,
Yet Merygreeke and my folkes tary very long.
Tib, An, and Margerie,
doe singe here.
Pipe mery Annot. &c.
Trilla, Trilla. Trillarie.
Worke Tibet, worke Annot, worke Margerie.
Sewe Tibet, knitte Annot, spinne Margerie.
Let vs see who shall winne the victorie.
Tib Talk.
This sleue is not willyng to be sewed I trowe,
A small thing might make me all in the grounde to throwe.
Then they sing agayne.
[Tib, An, and Margerie.]
Pipe merrie Annot. &c.
Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie.
What Tibet, what Annot, what Margerie.
Ye sleepe, but we doe not, that shall we trie.
Your fingers be nombde, our worke will not lie.
Tib Talk.
If ye doe so againe, well I would aduise you nay.
In good sooth one stoppe more, and I make holy day.
They sing the thirde tyme.
[Tib, An, and Margerie.]
Pipe Mery Annot. &c.
Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie.
Nowe Tibbet, now Annot, nowe Margerie.
But it will not be, our mouth is so drie.
Tib Talk.
Ah, eche finger is a thombe to day me thinke,
I care not to let all alone, choose it swimme or sinke.
They sing the fourth tyme.
[Tib, An, and Margerie.]
Pipe Mery Annot. &c.
Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie.
Lette hir caste downe hir worke.
When Tibet, when Annot, when Margerie.
I will not, I can not, no more can I.
Then giue we all ouer, and there let it lye.
Tib Talk.
There it lieth, the worste is but a curried cote,
Tut I am vsed therto, I care not a grote.
An. Alyface.
Haue we done singyng since? then will I in againe,
Here I founde you, and here I leaue both twaine.
Exeat.
M. Mumbl.
And I will not be long after: Tib Talke apace.
Tib Talk.
What is ye matter?
M. Mumb.
Yond stode a man al this space
And hath hearde all that euer we spake togyther.
Tib Talk.
Mary the more loute he for his comming hither.
And the lesse good he can to listen maidens talke.
I care not and I go byd him hence for to walke:
It were well done to knowe what he maketh here away.
R. Royster.
Nowe myght I speake to them, if I wist what to say.
M. Mumbl.
Nay we will go both off, and see what he is.
R. Royster.
One that hath hearde all your talke and singyng ywis.
Tib Talk.
The more to blame you, a good thriftie husbande
Woulde elsewhere haue had some better matters in hande.
R. Royster.
I dyd it for no harme, but for good loue I beare,
To your dame mistresse Custance, I did your talke heare.
And Mistresse nource I will kisse you for acquaintance.
M. Mumbl.
I come anon sir.
Tib. T.
Faith I would our dame Custance
Sawe this geare.
M. M.
I must first wipe al cleane, yea I must.
Tib Talk.
Ill chieue it dotyng foole, but it must be cust.
M. Mumbl.
God yelde you sir, chad not so much ichotte not whan,
Nere since chwas bore chwine, of such a gay gentleman.
I will kisse you too mayden for the good will I beare you.
Tib Talk.
No forsoth, by your leaue ye shall not kisse me.
R. Royster.
Yes be not afearde, I doe not disdayne you a whit.
Tib Talk.
Why shoulde I feare you? I haue not so little wit,
Ye are but a man I knowe very well.
R. R.
Why then?
Tib Talk.
Forsooth for I wyll not, I vse not to kisse men.
R. Royster.
I would faine kisse you too good maiden, if I myght.
Tib Talk.
What shold that neede?
R. R.
But to honor you by this light.
I vse to kisse all them that I loue to God I vowe.
Tib Talk.
Yea sir? I pray you when dyd ye last kisse your cowe.
R. Royster.
Ye might be proude to kisse me, if ye were wise.
Tib Talk.
What promotion were therin?
R. R.
Nourse is not so nice.
Tib Talk.
Well I haue not bene taught to kissing and licking.
R. Royster.
Yet I thanke you mistresse Nourse, ye made no sticking.
M. Mumbl.
I will not sticke for a kosse with such a man as you.
Tib Talk.
They that lust: I will againe to my sewyng now.
An. Alyfac.
Tidings hough, tidings, dame Custance greeteth you well.
R. Royster.
Whome me?
An. Al.
You sir? no sir? I do no suche tale tell.
R. Royster.
But and she knewe me here.
An. Al.
Tybet Talke apace,
Your mistresse Custance and mine, must speake with your grace
Tib Talk.
With me?
An. Aly.
Ye muste come in to hir out of all doutes.
Tib Talk.
And my work not half done? A mischief on all loutes.
Ex. am.
R. Royster.
Ah good sweet nourse.
M. Mumb.
A good sweete gentlemā.
R. R.
what?
M. Mumbl.
Nay I can not tel sir, but what thing would you?
R. Royster.
Howe dothe sweete Custance, my heart of gold, tell me how?
M. Mumbl.
She dothe very well sir, and commaunde me to you.
R. Royster.
To me?
M. M.
Yea to you sir.
R. R.
To me? nurse tel me plain
To me?
M. Mumb.
Ye.
R. R.
That word maketh me aliue again.
M. Mumbl.
She commaunde me to one last day who ere it was.
R. Royster.
That was een to me and none other by the Masse.
M. Mumbl.
I can not tell you surely, but one it was.
R. Royster.
It was I and none other: this commeth to good passe.
I promise thee nourse I fauour hir.
M. Mumb.
Een so sir.
R. Royster.
Bid hir sue to me for mariage.
M. Mumbl.
Een so sir.
And surely for thy sake she shall speede.
M. Mumb.
Een so sir.
R. Royster.
I shall be contented to take hir.
M. Mumb.
Een so sir.
R. Royster.
But at thy request and for thy sake.
M. Mumb.
Een so sir.
And come hearke in thine eare what to say.
M. Mumb.
Een so sir.
Here lette him tell hir a great long tale in hir eare.
Scæna. iiij.
Mathew Merygreeke. Dobinet Doughtie. Harpax. Ralph Royster. Margerie Mumblecrust.M. Mery.
Come on sirs apace, and quite your selues like men,
Your pains shalbe rewarded.
D. Dou.
But I wot not whē.
M. Mery.
Do your maister worship as ye haue done in time past.
D. Dough.
Speake to them: of mine office he shall haue a cast.
M. Mery.
Harpax, looke that thou doe well too, and thy fellow.
Harpax.
I warrant, if he will myne example folowe.
M. Mery.
Curtsie whooresons, douke you and crouche at euery worde,
D. Dough.
Yes whether our maister speake earnest or borde.
M. Mery.
For this lieth vpon his preferment in deede.
D. Dough.
Oft is hee a wower, but neuer doth he speede.
M. Mery.
But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yond?
D. Dough.
With Nobs nicebecetur miserere fonde.
M. Mery.
God be at your wedding, be ye spedde alredie?
I did not suppose that your loue was so greedie,
I perceiue nowe ye haue chose of deuotion,
And ioy haue ye ladie of your promotion.
R. Royster.
Tushe foole, thou art deceiued, this is not she.
M. Mery.
Well mocke muche of hir, and keepe hir well I vise ye.
I will take no charge of such a faire piece keeping.
M. Mumbl.
What ayleth thys fellowe? he driueth me to weeping.
M. Mery.
What weepe on the weddyng day? be merrie woman,
Though I say it, ye haue chose a good gentleman.
R. Royster.
Kocks nownes what meanest thou man, tut a whistle.
Ah sir, be good to hir, she is but a gristle,
Ah sweete lambe and coney.
R. R.
Tut thou art deceiued.
M. Mery.
Weepe no more lady, ye shall be well receiued.
Up wyth some mery noyse sirs, to bring home the bride.
R. Royster.
Gogs armes knaue, art thou madde? I tel thee thou art wide.
M. Mery.
Then ye entende by nyght to haue hir home brought.
R. Royster.
I tel thee no.
M. M.
How thē?
R. R.
Tis neither mēt ne thought.
M. Mery.
What shall we then doe with hir?
R. R.
Ah foolish harebraine,
This is not she.
M. M.
No is? why then vnsayde againe,
And what yong girle is this with your mashyp so bolde?
R. Royster.
A girle?
M. M.
Yea. I dare say, scarse yet three score yere old.
R. Royster.
This same is the faire widowes nourse of whome ye wotte.
M. Mery.
Is she but a nourse of a house? hence home olde trotte,
Hence at once.
R. R.
No no.
M. M.
What an please your maship
A nourse talke so homely with one of your worship?
R. Royster.
I will haue it so: it is my pleasure and will.
M. Mery.
Then I am content. Nourse come againe, tarry still.
R. Royster.
What, she will helpe forward this my sute for hir part.
M. Mery.
Then ist mine owne pygs nie, and blessing on my hart.
R. Royster.
This is our best frend mā.
M. M.
Then teach hir what to say
M. Mumbl.
I am taught alreadie.
M. M.
Then go, make no delay.
R. Royster.
Yet hark one word in thine eare.
M. M.
Back sirs frō his taile
R. Royster.
Backe vilaynes, will ye be priuie of my counsaile?
M. Mery.
Backe sirs, so: I tolde you afore ye woulde be shent.
R. Royster.
She shall haue the first day a whole pecke of argent.
M. Mumbl.
A pecke? Nomine patris, haue ye so much spare?
R. Royster.
Yea and a carte lode therto, or else were it bare,
Besides other mouables, housholde stuffe and lande.
Haue ye lāds too.
R. R.
An hundred marks.
M. M.
Yea a thousand
M. Mumbl.
And haue ye cattell too? and sheepe too?
R. R.
Yea a fewe.
M. Mery.
He is ashamed the numbre of them to shewe.
Een rounde about him, as many thousande sheepe goes,
As he and thou and I too, haue fingers and toes.
M. Mumbl.
And how many yeares olde be you?
R. R.
Fortie at lest.
Yea and thrice fortie to them.
R. R.
Nay now thou dost iest.
I am not so olde, thou misreckonest my yeares.
M. Mery.
I know that: but my minde was on bullockes and steeres.
M. Mumbl.
And what shall I shewe hir your masterships name is?
R. Royster.
Nay she shall make sute ere she know that ywis.
M. Mumbl.
Yet let me somewhat knowe.
M. M.
This is hee vnderstand,
That killed the blewe Spider in Blanchepouder lande.
M. Mumbl.
Yea Iesus, William zee law, dyd he zo law?
M. Mery.
Yea and the last Elephant that euer he sawe,
As the beast passed by, he start out of a buske,
And een with pure strength of armes pluckt out his great tuske.
M. Mumbl.
Iesus, nomine patris, what a thing was that?
R. Roister.
Yea but Merygreke one thing thou hast forgot.
M. M.
What?
R. Royster.
Of thother Elephant.
M. M.
Oh hym that fledde away.
R. Royster.
Yea.
M. M.
Yea he knew that his match was in place that day
Tut, he bet the king of Crickets on Christmasse day,
That he crept in a hole, and not a worde to say.
M. Mumbl.
A sore man by zembletee.
M. M.
Why, he wrong a club
Once in a fray out of the hande of Belzebub.
R. Royster.
And how when Mumfision?
M. M.
Oh your coustrelyng
Bore the lanterne a fielde so before the gozelyng.
Nay that is to long a matter now to be tolde:
Neuer aske his name Nurse, I warrant thee, be bolde,
He conquered in one day from Rome, to Naples,
And woonne Townes nourse as fast as thou canst make Apples.
M. Mumbl.
O Lorde, my heart quaketh for feare: he is to sore.
R. Royster.
Thou makest hir to much afearde, Merygreeke no more.
This tale woulde feare my sweete heart Custance right euill.
M. Mery.
Nay let hir take him Nurse, and feare not the deuill.
But thus is our song dasht. Sirs ye may home againe.
R. Royster.
No shall they not. I charge you all here to remaine:
The villaine slaues a whole day ere they can be founde.
M. Mery.
Couche on your marybones whooresons, down to the ground.
Was it meete he should tarie so long in one place
Who so hath suche bees as your maister in hys head,
Had neede to haue his spirites with Musike to be fed.
By your maisterships licence.
R. R.
What is that? a moate?
M. Mery.
No it was a fooles feather had light on your coate.
R. Roister.
I was nigh no feathers since I came from my bed.
M. Mery.
No sir, it was a haire that was fall from your hed.
R. Roister.
My mē com whē it plese thē.
M. M.
By your leue..
R. R.
What is that?
M. Mery.
Your gown was foule spotted wt the foot of a gnat.
R. Roister.
Their maister to offende they are nothing afearde.
What now?
M. M.
A lousy haire from your masterships beard.
And sir for Nurses sake pardon this one offence.
Oēs famulæ.
We shall not after this shew the like negligence.
R. Royster.
I pardon you this once, and come sing nere the wurse.
M. Mery.
How like you the goodnesse of this gentleman nurse?
M. Mumbl.
God saue his maistership that so can his men forgeue,
And I wyll heare them sing ere I go, by his leaue.
R. Royster.
Mary and thou shalt wenche, come we two will daunce.
M. Mumbl.
Nay I will by myne owne selfe foote the song perchaunce.
R. Royster.
Go to it sirs lustily.
M. Mumbl.
Pipe vp a mery note,
Let me heare it playde, I will foote it for a grote.
Cantent.
R. Royster.
Now nurse take thys same letter here to thy mistresse.
And as my trust is in thee plie my businesse.
M. Mumbl.
It shalbe done.
M. M.
Who made it?
R. R.
I wrote it ech whit
M. Mery.
Thē nedes it no mēding.
R. R.
No, no.
M. M.
No I know your wit.
R. Royster.
I warrant it wel.
M. Mumb.
It shal be deliuered.
But if ye speede, shall I be considered?
M. Mery.
Whough, dost thou doubt of that?
Madge.
What shal I haue?
M. Mery.
An hundred times more than thou canst deuise to craue.
M. Mumbl.
Shall I haue some newe geare? for my olde is all spent.
M. Mery.
The worst kitchen wench shall goe in ladies rayment.
M. Mumbl.
Yea?
M. M.
And the worst drudge in the house shal go better
Thā your mistresse doth now.
Mar.
Thē I trudge wt your letter.
Now may I repose me: Custance is mine owne.
Let vs sing and play homeward that it may be knowne.
M. Mery.
But are you sure, that your letter is well enough?
R. Royster.
I wrote it my selfe.
M. Mery.
Then sing we to dinner.
Here they sing, and go out singing.
Scæna. v.
Christian Custance. Margerie Mumblecrust.C. Custāce.
Who tooke thee thys letter Margerie Mumblecrust?
M. Mumbl.
A lustie gay bacheler tooke it me of trust,
And if ye seeke to him he will lowe your doing.
C. Custāce.
Yea, but where learned he that manner of wowing?
M. Mumbl.
If to sue to hym, you will any paines take,
He will haue you to his wife (he sayth) for my sake.
C. Custāce.
Some wise gentleman belike. I am bespoken:
And I thought verily thys had bene some token
From my dere spouse Gawin Goodluck, whom when him please
God luckily sende home to both our heartes ease.
M. Mumbl.
A ioyly man it is I wote well by report,
And would haue you to him for marriage resort:
Best open the writing, and see what it doth speake.
C. Custāce.
At thys time nourse I will neither reade ne breake.
M. Mumbl.
He promised to giue you a whole pecke of golde.
C. Custāce.
Perchaunce lacke of a pynte when it shall be all tolde.
M. Mumbl.
I would take a gay riche husbande, and I were you.
C. Custāce.
In good sooth Madge, een so would I, if I were thou.
But no more of this fond talke now, let vs go in,
And see thou no more moue me folly to begin.
Nor bring mee no mo letters for no mans pleasure,
But thou know from whom.
M. M.
I warrant ye shall be sure.
| [Ralph Roister Doister] | |