An. Now M. Slender, what’s your will?
40 Slen. Godeso, theres a Iest indeed: why misteris An, I neuer made will yet: I thank God I am wise inough for that.
Shal. Fie cusse fie, thou art not right,
O thou hadst a father.
Slen. I had a father misteris Anne, good vncle
Tell the Iest how my father stole the goose out of
45 The henloft. All this is nought, harke you mistresse Anne.
Shal. He will make you ioynter of three hundred pound a yeare, he shall make you a Gentlewoman.
Slend. I be God that I vill, come cut and long taile, as good as any is in Glostershire, vnder the degree of a Squire.
XII. 50 An. O God how many grosse faults are hid