C. Custance. Gay love, God save it! so soon hot, so soon cold.
M. Merry. I am sorry for you: he could love you yet, so he could.
R. Roister. Nay, by Cock's precious, she shall be none of mine.
M. Merry. Why so?
R. Roister. Come away, by the matt, she is mankine.[166]
I durst adventure the loss of my right hand.
If she did not slee her other husband.
And see, if she prepare not again to fight!
M. Merry. What, then, Saint George to borrow, our Lady's knight?
R. Roister. Slee else whom she will, by Gog, she shall not slee me.