+liberty+ Syr now we wyl departe hence with your licence 600 For other divers busines that we must haue tohether
+Remdi+ Sirs I am content, now when ye wyll depart To god I commyt you I wyll not make you tary But yet I pray with all my minde and heart Take hede in any wise exchewe yl & shrewd compani yf a mã be neuer soo good & vse [with] th[=e] [that] be vnthrifti He shal lese his name, & to some vice they wil him t[=e]p therfore beware of such people, & from th[=e] be exempt
+Health+ yes yes I warrant you of sach I wyll beware. Farewel good remedy & wel to fare. & goth out 610
+Remdi+ I pray god be your spede & preserue you frõ paine it is mi mind ye shold prosper I wold haue it so fain.
+Wyll.+ Here is none of our acquainta[=u]ce wil retourneth we haue made to longe tariaunce that wyll ye say perchaunce And they begone home come away apare
+Wytte.+ Nay by god not so hastie A lytle whyle we wyll larye Good euen syr to you mary Dwell ye in this place? 620
+Remdi+ Nay good fellowe I dwel not heare Wherefore doest thou chat inquire: Woldest thou ought with any heare Speake be not afryde
+Wyll.+ By God I would I had your gowne And were a myle without the towne Theron & woulde borowe a crowne It is I that so sayde
+Wytte.+ Hew lookest thou one him halfe a scorne I p=omise you he is a scant gentylman borne 630 What sstyest thou in his face
+Remdi+ For somwhat in his face I lok e In dede his mastership standes a crooke For false shrewes both of you I tooke And chyldren that be past grace.
+Wyll.+ I wyll swere for hym, as tor this yeares twenty that he hath ben euer as true as I yet sometyme he will steale and make a lye He is of my alyaunce.
+Remdi+ In good fayth the same thinke I 640 That ye be both lyke, full unthrifty Syrs how do ye lyue, shew me quickly Or I shall put you in duraunce
+wytte.+ How liue we? mary our meate Cummest thou hether for to threte: So lowly syr wittam doth speake From whence doth he come can ye shewe
+Wyll.+ What dost thou ayle canst thou tell? Hast thou any thing with vs to mell? By the masse thy handes doth tykell 650 Thou shalt beare me a blowe.
+remedi+ you false theues I know ye well I shall let your purpose euey deale yllwyll, and shrewd wit, the deuyll of hell Take ye both for me.