M. Merry.[121] There hath grown no grass on my heel, since I went hence:
Lo! here have I brought that shall make you pastance.
R. Roister. Come, sirs, let us sing, to win my dear love Custance.
[Cantent.[122]
M. Merry. Lo, where she cometh! some countenance to her make;
And ye shall hear me be plain with her for your sake.
ACTUS III., SCÆNA 4.
Custance, Merrygreek, Roister Doister.
C. Custance. What gauding and fooling is this afore my door?