ALISOUN
[Approaches Chaucer tentatively.]
God save thee, man! I ken not who thou art,
But him’s can curry down a ticklish mare
Like me, he hath a backbone in his bolster;
I love thee better for’t.—Ay, gang thy gait;
But, bully Geoffrey, mind, we have a bet:
Yea, if I fry thee not in thine own grease
And cry thee tit for tat, call me a man.
Man lives for wit, but woman lives by it.—