Chapter M: MERRY. Ye shall not (she saith), by her will, marry her cat

Ye are such a calf, such an ass, such a block,
Such a lilburn, such a hobil, such a lobcock;
And because ye should come to her at no season,
She despised your maship out of all reason.
"Beware what ye say (ko I) of such a gentleman!"
"Nay, I fear him not (ko she), do the best he can."
He vaunteth himself for a man of prowess great,
Whereas a good gander, I dare say, may him beat.
And where he is louted[110] and laughed to scorn,
For the veriest dolt that ever was born:
And veriest lubber, sloven and beast,
Living in this world from the west to the east;
Yet of himself hath he such opinion,
That in all the world is not the like minion.
He thinketh each woman to be brought in dotage
With the only sight of his goodly personage:
Yet none that will have him: we do him lout and flock,
And make him among us our common sporting-stock;
And so would I now (ko she), save only because--
"Better nay (ko I)." "I lust not meddle with daws."
"Ye are happy (ko I) that ye are a woman:
This would cost you your life, in case ye were a man."

R. ROISTER. Yea, an hundred thousand pound should not save her life.

M. MERRY. No, but that ye woo her to have her to your wife;
But I could not stop her mouth.

R. ROISTER. Heigho, alas!

M. MERRY. Be of good cheer, man, and let the world pass.[111]

R. ROISTER. What shall I do or say, now that it will not be?

M. MERRY. Ye shall have choice of a thousand as good as she;
And ye must pardon her; it is for lack of wit.

R. ROISTER. Yea, for were not I an husband for her fit?
Well, what should I now do?

M. MERRY. I'faith, I cannot tell.

R. ROISTER. I will go home, and die.

M. MERRY. Then shall I bid toll the bell?

R. ROISTER. No.

M. MERRY. God have mercy on your soul: ah, good gentleman,
That e'er you should thus die for an unkind woman!
Will ye drink once, ere ye go?

R. ROISTER. No, no, I will none.

M. MERRY. How feels your soul to God?

R. ROISTER. I am nigh-gone.

M. MERRY. And shall we hence straight?

R. ROISTER. Yea.

M. MERRY. _Placebo dilexi._ [_ut infra._[112]
Master Roister Doister will straight go home, and die.

R. ROISTER. Heigho, alas! the pangs of death my heart do break.

M. MERRY. Hold your peace, for shame, sir! a dead man may not speak
_Ne quando._ What mourners and what torches shall we have?

R. ROISTER. None.

M. MERRY. _Dirige._ He will go darkling to his grave:
_Neque lux, neque crux, neque_ mourners, _neque_ clink,
He will steal to heaven, unknowing to God, I think,
_A porta inferi_. Who shall your goods possess?

R. ROISTER. Thou shalt be my sector,[113] and have all, more or less.

M. MERRY. _Requiem æternam._ Now, God reward your mastership,
And I will cry halfpenny-dole for your worship,
Come forth, sirs; hear the doleful news I shall you tell.
[_Evocat servos milites._
Our good master here will no longer with us dwell,
But in spite of Custance, which hath him wearied,
Let us see his maship solemnly buried;
And while some piece of his soul is yet him within,
Some part of his funerals let us here begin.
_Audivi vocem._ All men take heed by this one gentleman,
How you set your love upon an unkind woman:
For these women be all such mad, peevish elves,
They will not be won, except to please themselves.
But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in hell,
Master Roister Doister shall serve you as well--
And will ye needs go from us thus in very deed?

R. ROISTER. Yea, in good sadness.

M. MERRY. Now Jesus Christ be your speed.
Good night, Roger, old knave! farewell, Roger, old knave!
Good night, Roger, old knave, knave knap! [_ut infra._[114]
Pray for the late master Roister Doister's soul,
And come forth, parish clerk; let the passing-bell toll.
[_Ad servos milites._
Pray for your master, sirs; and for him ring a peal.
He was your right good master, while he was in heal.

R. ROISTER. _Qui Lazarum._
Heigho!

M. MERRY. Dead men go not so fast _in Paradisum_.

R. ROISTER. Heigho!

M. MERRY. Soft, hear what I have cast.

R. ROISTER. I will hear nothing, I am past.

M. MERRY. Whough, wellaway!
Ye may tarry one hour, and hear what I shall say.
Ye were best, sir, for awhile to revive again,
And quite them, ere ye go.

R. ROISTER. Trowest thou so?

M. MERRY. Yea, plain.

R. ROISTER. How may I revive, being now so far past?

M. MERRY. I will rub your temples, and fet you again at last.

R. ROISTER. It will not be possible.

M. MERRY. Yes, for twenty pound.

R. ROISTER. Arms! what dost thou?

M. MERRY. Fet you again out of your sound.[115]
By this cross, ye were nigh gone indeed; I might feel
Your soul departing within an inch of your heel.
Now follow my counsel--

R. ROISTER. What is it?

M. MERRY. If I were you,
Custance should eft seek to me, ere I would bow.

R. ROISTER. Well, as thou wilt have me, even so will I do.

M. MERRY. Then shall ye revive again for an hour or two.

R. ROISTER. As thou wilt: I am content, for a little space.

M. MERRY. Good hap is not hasty: yet in space cometh grace.
To speak with Custance yourself should be very well;
What good thereof may come, nor I nor you can tell.
But now the matter standeth upon your marriage,
Ye must now take unto you a lusty carriage.[116]
Ye may not speak with a faint heart to Custance.
But with a lusty breast[117] and countenance,
That she may know she hath to answer to a man.

R. ROISTER. Yes, I can do that as well as any can.

M. MERRY. Then, because ye must Custance face to face woo,
Let us see how to behave yourself ye can do.
Ye must have a portly brag after your estate.

R. ROISTER. Tush, I can handle that after the best rate.

M. MERRY. Well done; so, lo! up, man, with your head and chin!
Up with, that snout, man: so lo! now ye begin.
So, that is somewhat like; but, pranky-coat, nay when?
That is a lusty brute! hands unto your side, man:
So, lo! now is it even as it should be;
That is somewhat like for a man of your degree.
Then must ye stately go, jetting up and down.[118]
Tut! can ye no better shake the tail of your gown?
There, lo! such a lusty brag it is ye must make.

R. ROISTER. To come behind, and make curts'y,[119]
thou must some pains take.

M. MERRY. Else were I much to blame. I thank your mastership;
The Lord one day all to begrime you with worship.
Back, Sir Sauce! let gentlefolks have elbow-room.
'Void, sirs, see ye not Master Roister Doister come?
Make place, my masters--

R. ROISTER. Thou jostlest now too nigh.

M. MERRY. Back, all rude louts.

R. ROISTER. Tush.

M. MERRY. I cry your maship mercy.
Hoiday! if fair fine Mistress Custance saw you now,
Ralph Roister Doister were her own, I warrant you.

R. ROISTER. Ne'er a _master_ by your girdle?

M. MERRY. Your good Mastership's
Mastership were her own mistresship's mistresship's.
Ye were take up for hawks; ye were gone, ye were gone:
But now one other thing more yet I think upon.

R. ROISTER. Show what it is.

M. MERRY. A wooer, be he never so poor,
Must play and sing before his best-beloved's door.
How much more then you?

R. ROISTER. Thou speakest well, out of doubt.
And perchance that would make her the sooner come out.[120]
Go call my musicians; bid them hie apace.

M. MERRY. I will be here with them, ere ye can say _trey ace_.
[_Exeat._

R. ROISTER. This was well said of Merrygreek, I 'low his wit,
Before my sweetheart's door we will have a fit,
That, if my love come forth, I may with her talk:
I doubt not but this gear shall on my side walk.
But lo! how well Merrygreek is returned since.

M. MERRY.[121] There hath grown no grass on my
heel, since I went hence:
Lo! here have I brought that shall make you pastance.

R. ROISTER. Come, sirs, let us sing, to win my dear love Custance.
[_Cantent._[122]

M. MERRY. Lo, where she cometh! some countenance to her make;
And ye shall hear me be plain with her for your sake.

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 4.

CUSTANCE, MERRYGREEK, ROISTER DOISTER.

C. CUSTANCE. What gauding and fooling is this afore my door?

M. MERRY. May not folks be honest, pray you, though they be poor?

C. CUSTANCE. As that thing may be true, so rich folks may be fools.

R. ROISTER. Her talk is as fine as she had learned in schools.

M. MERRY. Look partly toward her, and draw a little near.
[_Aside._

C. CUSTANCE. Get ye home, idle folks.

M. MERRY. Why may not we be here?
Nay, and ye will haze, haze;[123] otherwise, I tell you plain,
And ye will not haze, then give us our gear again.

C. CUSTANCE. Indeed, I have of yours much gay things, God save all.

R. ROISTER. Speak gently unto her, and let her take all.
[_Aside._

M. MERRY. Ye are too tender-hearted. Shall she make us daws?
[_Aside._
Nay, dame, I will be plain with you in my friend's cause.

R. ROISTER. Let all this pass, sweetheart, and accept my service.

C. CUSTANCE. I will not be served with a fool in no wise.
When I choose an husband, I hope to take a man.

M. MERRY. And where will ye find one which can do that he can?
Now this man toward you being so kind,
Why not make him an answer somewhat to his mind?

C. CUSTANCE. I sent him a full answer by you, did I not?

M. MERRY. And I reported it.

C. CUSTANCE. Nay, I must speak it again.

R. ROISTER. No, no, he told it all.

M. MERRY. Was I not meetly plain?

R. ROISTER. Yes.

M. MERRY. But I would not tell all; for, faith, if I had,
With you, dame Custance, ere this hour it had been bad;
And not without cause: for this goodly personage
Meant no less than to join with you in marriage.

C. CUSTANCE. Let him waste no more labour nor suit about me.

M. MERRY. Ye know not where your preferment lieth, I see;
He sendeth you such a token, ring and letter.

C. CUSTANCE. Marry, here it is; ye never saw a better.

M. MERRY. Let us see your letter.

C. CUSTANCE. Hold! read it if ye can:
And see what letter it is to win a woman.

M. MERRY. [_reads_:]

_To mine own dear coney, bird, sweetheart, and pigsny,_
_Good Mistress Custance, present these by and by._

Of this superscription do ye blame the style?

C. CUSTANCE. With the rest, as good stuff as ye read a great while.