Will ye yelde and graunt to be this gentmans wife? 35
C. Custance. Ye tolde me he loved me, call ye this love?
M. Mery. He loved a while even like a turtle dove.
C. Custance. Gay love God save it, so soone hotte, so soone colde,[581]
M. Mery. I am sory for you: he could love you yet so he coulde.
R. Royster. Nay by cocks precious[582] she shall be none of mine. 40
M. Mery. Why so?
R. Royster. Come away, by the matte she is mankine.[583]
I durst adventure the losse of my right hande,
If shee dyd not slee hir other husbande: