R. ROISTER. No, I am a poor homely man, as God made me.
M. MERRY. By the faith that I owe to God, sir, but ye be. Would I might, for your sake, spend a thousand pound land.
R. ROISTER. I daresay thou wouldest have me to thy husband.
M. MERRY. Yea, and I were the fairest lady in the shire, And knew you as I know you, and see you now here-- Well, I say no more--
R. ROISTER. Gramercies, with all my heart.
M. MERRY. But, since that cannot be, will ye play a wise part?
M. MERRY. Refrain from Custance a while now, And I warrant her soon right glad to seek to you. Ye shall see her anon come on her knees creeping, And pray you to be good to her, salt tears weeping.
M. MERRY. In faith, then, farewell she. Or else, if ye be wroth, ye may avenged be.
R. ROISTER. By Cock's precious potstick, and e'en so I shall; I will utterly destroy her, and house and all. But I would be avenged in the mean space, On that vile scribbler, that did my wooing disgrace.
M. MERRY. Scribbler, ko you? Indeed, he is worthy no less. I will call him to you, and ye bid me, doubtless.
R. ROISTER. Yes, for although he had as many lives As a thousand widows and a thousand wives, As a thousand lions and a thousand rats, A thousand wolves and a thousand cats, A thousand bulls and a thousand calves, And a thousand legions divided in halves, He shall never 'scape death on my sword's point, Though I should be torn therefore joint by joint.
M. MERRY. Nay, if ye will kill him, I will not fet him, I will not in so much extremity set him. He may yet amend, sir, and be an honest man; Therefore pardon him, good soul, as much as ye can.
R. ROISTER. Well, for thy sake, this once with his life he shall pass; But I will hew him all to pieces, by the mass--
M. MERRY. Nay, faith, ye shall promise that he shall no harm have, Else I will not fet him.
R. ROISTER. I shall, so God me save! But I may chide him a good.[127]
M. MERRY. I return, and bring him to you by and by.[128] [_Ex._
R. ROISTER. What is a gentleman, but his word and his promise? I must now save this villain's life in any wise; And yet at him already my hands do tickle, I shall unneth[129] hold them, they will be so fickle. But lo, and Merrygreek have not brought him sens![130]