R. Roister. No, no.
M. Mery. No, I know your wit,
I warrant it well.
M. Mumble. It shall be delivered.
But if ye speed, shall I be considered?
M. Mery. Whough! Dost thou doubt of that?
M. Mumble. What shall I have?
M. Mery. An hundred times more than thou canst devise to crave.
M. Mumble. Shall I have some new gear? for my old is all spent.
M. Mery. The worst kitchen-wench shall go in ladies’ raiment....