Actus. i. Scæna. iiii.
Mathew Merygreeke. Dobinet Doughtie. Harpax [and Musitians entering]. Ralph Royster. Margerie Mumblecrust [still on the scene, whispering].
M. Mery. Come on sirs apace, and quite your selves like men,
Your pains shalbe rewarded.
D. Dou. But I wot not when.
M. Mery. Do your maister worship as ye have done in time past.
D. Dough. Speake to them: of mine office he shall have a cast.
M. Mery. Harpax,[412] looke that thou doe well too, and thy fellow. 5
Harpax. I warrant, if he will myne example folowe.
M. Mery. Curtsie whooresons, douke you and crouche at every worde,
D. Dough. Yes whether our maister speake earnest or borde.
M. Mery. For this lieth upon his preferment in deede.
D. Dough. Oft is hee a wower, but never doth he speede. 10
M. Mery. But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yond?
D. Dough. With Nobs nicebecetur miserere[413] fonde.
[M.] Mery [approaching R. R.]. God be at your wedding, be ye spedde alredie?
I did not suppose that your love was so greedie,
I perceive nowe ye have chose[414] of devotion, 15
And joy have ye ladie of your promotion.
R. Royster. Tushe foole, thou art deceived, this is not she.
M. Mery. Well mocke[415] muche of hir, and keepe hir well I vise[416] ye.
I will take no charge of such a faire piece keeping.
M. Mumbl. What ayleth thys fellowe? he driveth me to weeping. 20
M. Mery. What weepe on the weddyng day? be merrie woman,
Though I say it, ye have chose a good gentleman.
R. Royster. Kocks nownes[417] what meanest thou man[?] tut a whistle[418][!]
[M. Mery.][419] Ah sir, be good to hir, she is but a gristle,[420] C i
Ah sweete lambe and coney. 25
R. Royster. Tut thou art deceived.
M. Mery. Weepe no more lady, ye shall be well received.
Up wyth some mery noyse sirs, to bring home the bride.[421]
R. Royster. Gogs armes knave, art thou madde? I tel thee thou art wide.[422]
M. Mery. Then ye entende by nyght to have hir home brought.
R. Royster. I tel thee no. 30
M. Mery. How then?
R. Royster. Tis neither ment ne thought.
M. Mery. What shall we then doe with hir?
R. Royster. Ah foolish harebraine,
This is not she.
M. Mery. No is?[423] why then unsayde againe,
And what yong girle is this with your mashyp so bolde?
R. Royster. A girle?
M. Mery. Yea. I dare say, scarce yet three score yere old. 34
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. Royster. No, no.
M. Mery. What an please your maship
A nourse talke so homely[424] with one of your worship?
R. Royster. I will have it so: it is my pleasure and will. 39
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,[425] and blessing on my hart.
R. Royster. This is our best friend[,] man[!]
M. Mery. Then teach hir what to say[!]
M. Mumbl. I am taught alreadie.
M. Mery. Then go, make no delay.
R. Royster. Yet hark one word in thine eare. 45
M. Mery [Dobinet, etc., press on Royster, who pushes them back]. Back sirs from his taile.
R. Royster. Backe vilaynes, will ye be privie of my counsaile?
M. Mery. Backe sirs, so: I tolde you afore ye woulde be shent.
R. Royster. She shall have the first day a whole pecke of argent.
M. Mumbl. A pecke? Nomine patris [crossing herself], have ye so much spare?[426]
R. Royster. Yea and a carte lode therto, or else were it bare, 50
Besides other movables, housholde stuffe and lande.
M. Mumbl. Have ye lands too.
R. Royster. An hundred marks.
M. Mery. Yea a thousand.
M. Mumbl. And have ye cattell too? and sheepe too?
R. Royster. Yea a fewe.
M. Mery. He is ashamed the numbre of them to shewe.
Een rounde about him, as many thousande sheepe goes, 55
As he and thou and I too, have fingers and toes.
M. Mumbl. And how many yeares olde be you?
R. Royster. Fortie at lest.
M. Mery. Yea and thrice fortie to them. C i b
R. Royster. Nay now thou dost jest.
I am not so olde, thou misreckonest my yeares. 59
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. Mery. This is hee[,] understand,
That killed the blewe Spider[427] in Blanchepouder[428] lande.
M. Mumbl. Yea Jesus[!] William[!] zee law[!] dyd he zo[?] law[!] 65
M. Mery. Yea and the last Elephant[429] that ever he sawe,
As the beast passed by, he start out of a buske,[430]
And een with pure strength of armes pluckt out his great tuske.
M. Mumbl. Jesus, nomine patris [crossing herself], what a thing was that?
R. Roister. Yea but Merygreke one thing thou hast forgot. 70
M. Mery. What?
R. Royster. Of thother Elephant.
M. Mery. Oh hym that fledde away.
R. Royster. Yea.
M. Mery. Yea he knew that his match was in place that day
Tut, he bet the king of Crickets[431] on Christmasse day,
That he crept in a hole, and not a worde to say.
M. Mumbl. A sore man by zembletee.[432] 75
M. Mery. Why, he wrong a club
Once in a fray out of the hande of Belzebub.
R. Royster. And how when Mumfision?
M. Mery. Oh your coustrelyng[433]
Bore the lanterne a fielde so before the gozelyng.
Nay that is to long a matter now to be tolde:
Never aske his name Nurse, I warrant thee, be bolde, 80
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 evill.
M. Mery. Nay let hir take him Nurse, and feare not the devill. 86
But thus is our song dasht. [To the musicians] Sirs ye may home againe.
R. Royster. No shall they not. I charge you all here to remaine:
The villaine slaves[!] a whole day ere they can be founde.
M. Mery. Couche on your marybones whooresons, down to the ground[!][434] 90
Was it meete he should tarie so long in one place
Without harmonie of Musike, or some solace? C ii
Who so hath suche bees as your maister in hys head,
Had neede to have his spirites with Musike to be fed.
By your maisterships licence [picking something from his coat].
R. Royster. What is that? a moate? 96
M. Mery. No it was a fooles feather[435] 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 men com when it plese them.
M. Mery. By your leve.
R. Roister. What is that?
M. Mery. Your gown was foule spotted with the foot of a gnat. 100
R. Roister. Their maister to offende they are nothing afearde.
What now?
M. Mery. A lousy haire from your masterships beard.
Omnes famul[i].[436] And sir for Nurses sake pardon this one offence.
We shall not after this shew the like negligence. 104
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 save his maistership that so can his men forgeve,
And I wyll heare them sing ere I go, by his leave.
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. 111
M. Mumbl. Pipe up a mery note,
Let me heare it playde, I will foote it for a grote.
Cantent.[437]
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[!][438] 115
M. Mery. Who made it?
R. Royster. I wrote it ech whit.
M. Mery. Then nedes it no mending.
R. Royster. No, no.
M. Mery. No I know your wit.
I warrant it wel.
M. Mumb. It shal be delivered.
But if ye speede, shall I be considered?
M. Mery. Whough, dost thou doubt of that?
Madge. What shal I have? 119
M. Mery. An hundred times more than thou canst devise to crave.
M. Mumbl. Shall I have some newe geare? for my olde is all spent.
M. Mery. The worst kitchen wench shall goe in ladies rayment.
M. Mumbl. Yea?
M. Mery. And the worst drudge in the house shal go better
Than your mistresse doth now.
Mar. Then I trudge with your letter.
[Exit.]
R. Royster. Now may I repose me: Custance is mine owne. C ii b
Let us sing and play homeward that it may be knowne. 126
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.
Actus. i. Scæna. v.
Christian Custance. Margerie Mumblecrust.
C. Custance. Who tooke[439] 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[440] your doing.
C. Custance. Yea, but where learned he that manner of wowing?
M. Mumbl. If to sue to hym, you will any paines take, 5
He will have you to his wife (he sayth) for my sake.
C. Custance. Some wise gentlemen belike. I am bespoken:[441]
And I thought verily thys had bene some token
From my dere spouse[442] Gawin Goodluck, whom when him please
God luckily sende home to both our heartes ease. 10
M. Mumbl. A joyly[443] man it is I wote well by report,
And would have you to him for marriage resort:
Best open the writing, and see what it doth speake.
C. Custance. At thys time nourse I will neither reade ne breake.
M. Mumbl. He promised to give you a whole pecke of golde. 15
C. Custance. 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. Custance. In good sooth Madge, een so would I, if I were thou.[444]
But no more of this fond talke now, let us go in,
And see thou no more move me folly to begin. 20
Nor bring mee no mo letters for no mans pleasure,
But thou know from whom.
M. Mumbl. I warrant ye shall be sure.
Actus. ii. Scæna i.[445] C [iii]
Dobinet Doughtie.
D. Dough. Where is the house I goe to, before or behinde?
I know not where nor when nor how I shal it finde.
If I had ten mens bodies and legs and strength,
This trotting that I have must needs lame me at length.
And nowe that my maister is new set on wowyng, 5
I trust there shall none of us finde lacke of doyng:
Two paire of shoes a day will nowe be too litle
To serve me, I must trotte to and fro so mickle.
Go beare me thys token, carrie me this letter,
Nowe this is the best way, nowe that way is better. 10
Up before day sirs, I charge you, an houre or twaine,
Trudge, do me thys message, and bring worde quicke againe,
If one misse but a minute, then [H]is armes and woundes[446]
I woulde not have slacked for ten thousand poundes.
Nay see I beseeche you, if my most trustie page, 15
Goe not nowe aboute to hinder my mariage,
So fervent hotte wowyng, and so farre from wiving,
I trowe never was any creature livyng,
With every woman is he in some loves pang,
Then up to our lute at midnight, twangledome twang,[447] 20
Then twang with our sonets, and twang with our dumps,[448]
And heyhough from our heart, as heavie as lead lumpes:
Then to our recorder[449] with toodleloodle poope
As the howlet out of an yvie bushe should hoope.
Anon to our gitterne, thrumpledum, thrumpledum thrum, 25
Thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum thrum.
Of Songs and Balades also is he a maker,
And that can he as finely doe as Iacke Raker,[450] C iii b
Yea and extempore will he dities compose,
Foolishe Marsias nere made the like I suppose, 30
Yet must we sing them, as good stuffe I undertake,
As for such a pen man is well fittyng to make.
Ah for these long nights, heyhow, when will it be day?
I feare ere I come she will be wowed away.
Then when aunswere is made that it may not bee, 35
O death why commest thou not? by and by[452] (sayth he)[;]
But then, from his heart to put away sorowe,
He is as farre in with some newe love next morowe.
But in the meane season we trudge and we trot,
From dayspring to midnyght, I sit not, nor rest not. 40
And now am I sent to dame Christian Custance:
But I feare it will ende with a mocke for pastance.[451]
I bring hir a ring, with a token in a cloute,
And by all gesse, this same is hir house out of doute.
I knowe it nowe perfect, I am in my right way. 45
And loe yond the olde nourse that was wyth us last day.