But in reading and pointing there was made some fault.
R. Roister. I wot not; but it made all my matter to halt.
Scrivener. How say you, is this mine original, or no?
R. Roister. The self same that I wrote out of, so mot I go.
Scrivener. Look you on your own fist, and I will look on this.
And let this man be judge, whether I read amiss.
To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,
Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by.
How now? doth not this superscription agree?
R. Roister. Read that is within, and there ye shall the fault see.