R. Roister. Yes, dame, I will have you, whether ye will or no.
I command you to love me! wherefore should ye not?
Is not my love to you chafing and burning hot?
M. Merry. To her! that is well said.
R. Roister. Shall I so break my brain,[142]
To doat upon you, and ye not love us again?
M. Merry. Well said yet.
C. Custance. Go to, thou goose.
R. Roister. I say, Kit Custance,
In case ye will not haze, well; better yes, perchance.