R. Roister. What, wilt thou be angry, and I do thee forgive?
Fare thou well, scribbler; I cry thee mercy indeed.
Scrivener. Fare ye well, bibbler, and worthily may ye speed.
R. Roister. If it were another than thou, it were a knave.
M. Merry. Ye are another yourself, sir, the Lord us both save;
Albeit in this matter I must your pardon crave.
Alas! would ye wish in me the wit that ye have?
But, as for my fault, I can quickly amend:
I will show Custance it was I that did offend.
R. Roister. By so doing her anger may be reformed.