And I warrant her soon right glad to seek to you.
Ye shall see her anon come on her knees creeping,
And pray you to be good to her, salt tears weeping.
R. Roister. But what, and she come not?
M. Merry. In faith, then, farewell she.
Or else, if ye be wroth, ye may avenged be.
R. Roister. By Cock's precious potstick, and e'en so I shall;
I will utterly destroy her, and house and all.
But I would be avenged in the mean space,
On that vile scribbler, that did my wooing disgrace.