Chapter X: SHAKESPEARE AS A COMIC DRAMATIST. Edward Dowden (6)

="Play of the Wether": Early Editions and the Present Text.=--At the time I write, the _Play of the Wether_ has not been reprinted since the sixteenth century. Its bibliography has been rather confused by the existence of two texts of it, one at St. John's College, Oxford, the other at the University Library, Cambridge, each wanting the last leaf, containing in the one case twenty, and in the other sixteen, lines of the text and the colophon with the printer's name. The only perfect copy hitherto generally known is that preserved at the Bodleian Library, which belongs to an edition "Imprinted at London in Paules Churchyearde, at the Sygne of the Sunne, by Anthonie Kytson" whose career as a publisher seems to have been comprised within the years 1549 and 1579. Of this as the only complete edition I then knew I made my first transcript, though subsequent collation showed that the imperfect edition at St. John's College contained many better readings and an earlier spelling, while the copy at the University Library, Cambridge (sometimes, though I think erroneously, attributed to the press of Robert Wyer), belonged to an intermediate edition. The registration by the Bibliographical Society in its _Hand-lists of English Printers_, 1501-1556, of the copy of an edition of 1533, printed by William Rastell, in the Pepys Collection at Magdalene College, Cambridge, sent me to Cambridge for a new transcript. On examination, the Magdalene edition proved to be identical with that at St. John's College, Oxford, which had previously been conjecturally assigned to Rastell, perhaps by some one who had seen it before the last leaf disappeared. In reproducing Rastell's text I have not thought it necessary to print my collation of the later editions, as it is clear that the unidentified edition at the University Library, Cambridge (U. L. C.), was printed from Rastell's, and Kitson's from this. The printer of the U. L. C. edition introduced some errors into his text, most of which Kitson copied: e.g. _hote_ for _hore_ in l. 38, omission of second _so_ in l. 68, and of second _as_ in l. 72, _name_ for _maner_ in l. 115, _or_ for _of_ in l. 357, _we_ for _I_ in l. 427, _plumyng_ for _plumpyng_ in l. 657, _thynges_ for _thynge_ in l. 660, _showryng_ for _skowryng_ in l. 661, _ye_ for _yt_ in l. 699, _and_ for _all_ in l. 705, _belyke_ for _be leak[e]y_ in l. 800; though he corrected a few: e.g. _pale_ for _dale_ in l. 277. On the other hand, Kitson introduced some sixty or seventy errors of his own, such as _creatour_ for _creature_ in l. 5, _well_ for _we_ in l. 21, _myngled_ for _mynglynge_ in l. 144, _mery_ for _mary_ in l. 366, _beseched_ for _besecheth_ in l. 347, _pycked_ for _prycked_ in l. 467, _bodily_ for _boldely_ in l. 470, _solyter_ for _solycyter_ in l. 496, etc. As these variations are obviously misprints and nothing more, it would have been pedantic to record them in full, and these samples will doubtless suffice. The following title-page is a representation, not a reproduction, of the original. There is no running head-line in Rastell's text.

ALFRED W. POLLARD.

FOOTNOTES:

[89] The full title of this play is rather instructive:--"Of Gentylnes & Nobylyte: a dyaloge betwen the marchaunt, the knyght & the plowman dysputyng who is a verey gentylman & who is a noble man and how men shuld come to auctoryte, compiled in maner of an enterlude with divers toys & gestis addyd therto to make mery pastyme and disport."

[90] _The Pardoner and the Frere_ is dated 5 April, 1533; _Johan Johan_, 12 February, 153¾.

[91]

And eke, yf thou dysturbe me anythynge,
Thou art also a traytour to the Kynge,
For here hath he graunted me vnder his brode seale
That no man, yf he love hys hele,
Sholde me dysturbe or let in any wyse

[92] If the reference in l. 636 of the _Play of the Wether_ (see note) is to be pressed, this would be an exception, giving us between 1523 and 1533 as the date of composition.

[93] Dr. Swoboda erroneously places Edward VI.'s birth in August, a slip of some importance as to some extent spoiling his argument that _Thersites_ must have been written for a performance at an earlier date. But perhaps even in October it would not be quite correct to say "All herbs are dead," while the reference to a New Year's gift, though not quite decisive, makes it probable that the play was written for a Christmas entertainment. In any case it is intrinsically probable that a play acted at an improvised festivity on the birth of an heir to the throne would be an old one, rather than specially written for the occasion.

[94]

If no man will with me battle take,
A voyage to hell quickly I will make,
And there I will beat the devil and his dame,
And bring the souls away: I fully intend the same.
After that in Hell I have ruffled so,
Straight to old Purgatory will I go,
I will clean that so purge round about
That we shall need no pardons to help them out.

[95] Dr. Swoboda, who speaks of the plays from the press of William Rastell as printed by his father (John), was apparently unaware that neither _The Pardoner and the Frere_ nor _Johan Johan_ bears Heywood's name, and takes his authorship of them for granted.

[96] It is not contended that the payment was for the performance of _Thersites_, only that it shows that Heywood was a likely man to be called on to produce a play about this period.

[97] See notes to ll. 263 and 482. I quote here the end of the French farce in order to give the "wax" episode in full.

_Le Cousin._ Or ca cousin iay pense
Dung subtil affaire,
Dont vous serez riche a iamas.

_Pernet._ Riche, cousin?

_Le Cousin._ Certes, sire, vous fault chauffer
Et faire ung subtil ouuraige,
Qui vous gardera de dommaige,
Cousin, beau sire.

_Pernet._ Me fault il donc chauffer la cire,
Tandis que vous banqueterez?
Corbieu, ien suis marry,
Je croy que ce paste est bon.

_Le Cousin._ Chauffez & mettez du charbon
Lymaige sera proffittable.

_Pernet._ Vous irayge signer la table?
Je scay bien le benedicite.

_Le Cousin._ Faictes ce que iay recite.
Dea! cousin! ne perdez point de temps.

_Pernet._ Cest vng trespouure passetemps
De chauffer la cire quant on digne!
Regardez elle est plus molle que laine,
En la chauffant rien naqueste.

_Le Cousin._ Conclus & conqueste!
Auec la femme ie banqueste,
Combien que ie ne soye le sire
Et son mary chauffe la cire.

The play of the wether

[Decoration]

A new and a very
mery enterlude of
all maner wethers
made
by John Heywood,

[Decoration]

The players names.

Jupiter a god.
Mery reporte the vyce.
The gentylman.
The marchaunt.
The ranger.
The water myller.
The wynde myller.
The gentylwoman.
The launder.
A boy the lest that can play.

[Decoration]

The Play of the Wether

_Jupyter_ A ii

RYght farre to longe, as now, were to recyte
The auncyent estate wherein our selfe hath reyned,
What honour, what laude, gyven us of very ryght,
What glory we have had, dewly unfayned,
Of eche creature, which dewty hath constrayned; 5
For above all goddes, syns our father's fale,
We, Jupiter, were ever pryncypale.

If we so have beene, as treuth yt is in dede,
Beyond the compas of all comparyson,
Who coulde presume to shew, for any mede, 10
So that yt myght appere to humayne reason,
The hye renowne we stande in at this season?
For, syns that heven and earth were fyrste create,
Stode we never in suche tryumphaunt estate

As we now do, whereof we woll reporte 15
Suche parte as we se mete for tyme present,
Chyefely concernynge your[98] perpetuall comforte,
As the thynge selfe shall prove in experyment,
Whyche hyely shall bynde you, on knees lowly bent,
Sooly to honour oure hyenes, day by day. 20
And now to the mater gyve eare, and we shall say.

Before our presens, in our hye parlyament,
Both goddes and goddeses of all degrees
Hath[99] late assembled, by comen assent,
For the redres of certayne enormytees, 25
Bred amonge them, thorow extremytees
Abusyd in eche to other of them all,
Namely, to purpose, in these moste specyall:

Our forsayde father Saturne, and Phebus,
Eolus and Phebe, these foure[100] by name, 30
Whose natures, not onely, so farre contraryous,
But also of malyce eche other to defame,
Have longe tyme abused, ryght farre out of frame,
The dew course of all theyr constellacyons,
To the great damage of all yerthly nacyons: 35

Whyche was debated in place sayde before; A ii _b_
And fyrste, as became, our father moste auncyent,
With berde whyte as snow, his lockes both colde & hore,
Hath entred[101] such mater as served his entent,
Laudynge his frosty mansyon in the fyrmament, 40
To ayre & yerth as thynge moste precyous,
Pourgynge all humours that are contagyous.

How be yt, he alledgeth that, of longe tyme past,
Lyttell hath prevayled his great dylygens,
Full oft uppon yerth his fayre frost he hath cast, 45
All thynges hurtfull to banysh out of presens.
But Phebus, entendynge to kepe him in sylens,
When he hath labored all nyght in his powres,[102]
His glarynge beamys maryth all in two howres.

Phebus to this made no maner answerynge, 50
Whereuppon they both then Phebe defyed,
Eche for his parte leyd in her reprovynge
That by her showres superfluous they have tryed[103];
In all that she may theyr powres be denyed;
Wherunto Phebe made answere no more 55
Then Phebus to Saturne hadde made before.

Anone uppon Eolus all these dyd fle,
Complaynynge theyr causes, eche one arow,
And sayd, to compare, none was so evyll as he;
For, when he is dysposed his blastes to blow, 60
He suffereth neyther sone-shyne, rayne nor snowe.
They eche agaynste other, and he agaynste al three,--
Thus can these iiii in no maner agree!

Whyche sene in themselfe, and further consyderynge,
The same to redres was cause of theyr assemble; 65
And, also, that we, evermore beynge,
Besyde our puysaunt power of deite,
Of wysedome and nature so noble and so fre,
From all extremytees the meane devydynge,
To pease and plente eche thynge attemperynge, 70

They have, in conclusyon, holly surrendryd A iii
Into our handes, at mych as concernynge
All maner wethers by them engendryd,
The full of theyr powrs, for terme everlastynge,
To set suche order as standyth wyth our pleasynge, 75
Whyche thynge, as of our parte, no parte requyred,
But of all theyr partys ryght humbly desyred,

To take uppon us. Wherto we dyd assente.
And so in all thynges, with one voyce agreable,
We have clerely fynyshed our foresayd parleament, 80
To your great welth, whyche shall be fyrme and stable,
And to our honour farre inestymable;
For syns theyr powers, as ours, addyd to our owne,
Who can, we say, know us as we shulde be knowne?

But now, for fyne,[104] the rest of our entent, 85
Wherfore, as now, we hyther are dyscendyd,
Is onely to satysfye and content
All maner people whyche have been offendyd
By any wether mete to be amendyd,
Uppon whose complayntes, declarynge theyr grefe, 90
We shall shape remedye for theyr relefe.

And to gyve knowledge for theyr hyther resorte
We wolde thys afore proclaymed to be,
To all our people, by some one of thys sorte,[105]
Whome we lyste to choyse here amongest all ye. 95
Wherfore eche man avaunce, and we shal se
Whyche of you is moste mete to be our cryer.

_Here entreth_ MERY-REPORTE.

_Mery-reporte._ Brother,[106] holde up your torche a lytell hyer!
Now, I beseche you, my lorde, loke on me furste.
I truste your lordshyp shall not fynde me the wurste. 100

_Jupyter._ Why! what arte thou that approchyst so ny?

_Mery-reporte._ Forsothe, and please your lordshyppe, it is I.

_Jupyter._ All that we knowe very well, But what I?

_Mery-reporte._ What I? Some saye I am I perse I.[107]
But, what maner I so ever be I, 105
I assure your good lordshyp, I am I.

_Jupyter._ What maner man arte thou, shewe quickely. A iii _b_

_Mery-reporte._ By god, a poore gentylman, dwellyth hereby.

_Jupyter._ A gentylman! Thyselfe bryngeth wytnes naye,
Both in thy lyght behavour and araye. 110
But what arte thou called where thou dost resorte?

_Mery-reporte._ Forsoth, my lorde, mayster Mery-reporte.

_Jupyter._ Thou arte no mete man in our bysynes,
For thyne apparence is of to mych lyghtnes.

_Mery-reporte._ Why, can not your lordshyp lyke my maner 115
Myne apparell, nor my name nother?

_Jupyter._ To nother of all we have devocyon.

_Mery-reporte._ A proper lycklyhod of promocyon!
Well, than, as wyse as ye seme to be,
Yet can ye se no wysdome in me. 120
But syns ye dysprayse me for so lyghte an elfe,
I praye you gyve me leve to prayse my-selfe:
And, for the fyrste parte, I wyll begyn
In my behavour at my commynge in,
Wherin I thynke I have lytell offendyd, 125
For, sewer, my curtesy coulde not be amendyd;
And, as for my sewt your servaunt to be,
Myghte yll have bene myst for your honeste;
For, as I be saved, yf I shall not lye,
I saw no man sew for the offyce but I! 130
Wherfore yf ye take me not or I go,
Ye must anone, whether ye wyll or no.
And syns your entent is but for the wethers,
What skyls[108] our apparell to be fryse[109] or fethers?
I thynke it wisdome, syns no man forbad it, 135
With thys to spare a better--yf I had it!
And, for my name, reportyng alwaye trewly,
What hurte to reporte a sad mater merely?
As, by occasyon, for the same entent,
To a serteyne wedow thys daye was I sent, 140
Whose husbande departyd wythout her wyttynge,
A specyall good lover and she hys owne swettynge![110]
To whome, at my commyng, I caste suche a fygure,
Mynglynge the mater accordynge to my nature,
That when we departyd,[111] above al other thynges, 145
She thanked me hartely for my mery tydynges!
And yf I had not handled yt merely, A iv
Perchaunce she myght have taken yt hevely;
But in suche facyon I conjured and bounde her,
That I left her meryer then I founde her! 150
What man may compare to showe the lyke comforte
That dayly is shewed by me, Mery-reporte?
And, for your purpose, at this tyme ment,
For all wethers I am so indyfferent,[112]
Without affeccyon, standynge so up-ryght, 155
Son-lyght, mone-lyght, ster-lyght, twy-light, torch-light,
Cold, hete, moyst, drye, hayle, rayne, frost, snow, lightnyng,
thunder,
Cloudy, mysty, wyndy, fayre, fowle, above hed or under,
Temperate or dystemperate, whatever yt be,
I promyse your lordshyp, all is one to me. 160

_Jupyter._ Well, sonne, consydrynge thyne indyfferency,
And partely the rest of thy declaracyon,
We make the our servaunte and immediately
Well woll thou departe and cause proclamacyon,
Publyshynge our pleasure to every nacyon, 165
Whyche thynge ons done, wyth all dylygens,
Make thy returne agayne to this presens,

Here to receyve all sewters of eche degre;
And suche as to the may seme moste metely,
We wyll thou brynge them before our majeste, 170
And for the rest, that be not so worthy,
Make thou reporte to us effectually,
So that we may heare eche maner sewte at large.
Thus se thow departe and loke uppon thy charge!

_Mery-reporte._ Now, good my lorde god, our lady be wyth ye! 175
Frendes, a fellyshyppe,[113] let me go by ye!
Thynke ye I may stande thrustyng amonge you there?
Nay, by god, I muste thruste aboute other gere!

MERY-REPORTE _goeth out_.

_At thende[114] of this staf[115] the god hath a song played in his
trone or_ MERY-REPORTE _come in_.

_Jupiter._ Now, syns we have thus farre set forth our purpose,
A whyle we woll wythdraw our godly presens, 180
To embold all such more playnely to dysclose,
As here wyll attende, in our foresayd pretens.
And now, accordynge to your obedyens, A iv _b_
Rejoyce ye in us with joy most joyfully,
And we our-selfe shall joy in our owne glory! 185
[JUPITER _here closes the curtains of his throne_.]

MERY-REPORTE _cometh in_.

_Mery-reporte._ Now, syrs, take hede! for here cometh goddes servaunt!
Avaunt! carte[r]ly keytyfs,[116] avaunt!
Why, ye dronken horesons, wyll yt not be?
By your fayth, have ye nother cap nor kne?
Not one of you that wyll make curtsy 190
To me, that am squyre for goddes precyous body?
Regarde ye nothynge myne authoryte?
No welcome home! nor where have ye be?
How be yt, yf ye axyd, I coulde not well tell,
But suer I thynke a thousande myle from hell, 195
And on my fayth, I thinke, in my consciens,
I have been from hevyn as farre as heven is hens,
At Lovyn,[117] at London and in Lombardy,
At Baldock,[118] at Barfolde,[119] and in Barbary,
At Canturbery, at Coventre, at Colchester, 200
At Wansworth and Welbecke,[120] at Westchester,
At Fullam, at Faleborne, and at Fenlow,
At Wallyngford, at Wakefeld, and at Waltamstow,
At Tawnton, at Typtre[121] and at Totnam,[122]
At Glouceter, at Gylford and at Gotham, 205
At Hartforde, at Harwyche, at Harowe on the hyll,
At Sudbery,[123] Suth hampton, at Shoters Hyll,[124]
At Walsingham, at Wyttam[125] and at Werwycke,
At Boston, at Brystow[126] and at Berwycke,
At Gravelyn,[127] at Gravesend, and at Glastynbery, 210
Ynge Gyngiang Jayberd the paryshe of Butsbery.[128]
The devyll hym-selfe, wythout more leasure,
Could not have gone halfe thus myche, I am sure!
But, now I have warned[129] them, let them even chose;
For, in fayth, I care not who wynne or lose. 215

_Here the gentylman before he cometh in bloweth his horne._

_Mery-reporte._ Now, by my trouth, this was a goodly hearyng.
I went yt had ben the gentylwomans blowynge!
But yt is not so, as I now suppose,
For womens hornes sounde more in a mannys nose. 220

_Gentylman._ Stande ye mery, my frendes, everychone. B i

_Mery-reporte._ Say that to me and let the rest alone!
Syr, ye be welcome, and all your meyny.

_Gentylman._ Now, in good sooth, my frende, god a mercy!
And syns that I mete the here thus by chaunce, 225
I shall requyre the of further acqueyntaunce,
And brevely to shew the, this is the mater.
I come to sew to the great god Jupyter
For helpe of thynges concernynge my recreacyon,
Accordynge to his late proclamacyon. 230

_Mery-reporte._ Mary, and I am he that this must spede.
But fyrste tell me what be ye in dede.

_Gentylman._ Forsoth, good frende, I am a gentylman.

_Mery-reporte._ A goodly occupacyon, by seynt Anne!
On my fayth, your maship[130] hath a mery life. 235
But who maketh all these hornes, your self or your wife?
Nay, even in earnest, I aske you this questyon.

_Gentylman._ Now, by my trouth, thou art a mery one.

_Mery-reporte._ In fayth, of us both I thynke never one sad,
For I am not so mery but ye seme as mad! 240
But stande ye styll and take a lyttell payne,
I wyll come to you, by and by, agayne.
Now, gracyous god, yf your wyll so be,
I pray ye, let me speke a worde wyth ye.

_Jupyter._ My sonne, say on! Let us here thy mynde. 245

_Mery-reporte._ My lord, there standeth a sewter even here behynde,
A Gentylman, in yonder corner,
And, as I thynke, his name is Mayster Horner
A hunter he is, and cometh to make you sporte.
He woide hunte a sow or twayne out of thys sorte.[131] 250

_Here he poynteth to the women._

_Jupyter._ What so ever his mynde be, let hym appere.

_Mery-reporte._ Now, good mayster Horner, I pray you come nere.

_Gentylman._ I am no horner, knave! I wyll thou know yt.

_Mery-reporte._ I thought ye had [been], for when ye dyd blow yt,
Harde I never horeson make horne so goo. 255
As lefe ye kyste myne ars as blow my hole soo!
Come on your way, before the God Jupyter,
And there for your selfe ye shall be sewter.

_Gentylman._ Most myghty prynce and god of every nacyon,
Pleaseth your hyghnes to vouchsave the herynge 260
Of me, whyche, accordynge to [y]our proclamacyon, B i _b_
Doth make apparaunce, in way of besechynge,
Not sole for myself, but generally
For all come of noble and auncyent stock,
Whych sorte above all doth most thankfully 265
Dayly take payne for welth of the comen flocke,
With dylygent study alway devysynge
To kepe them in order and unyte,
In peace to labour the encrees of theyr lyvynge,
Wherby eche man may prosper in plente. 270
Wherfore, good god, this is our hole desyrynge,
That for ease of our paynes, at tymes vacaunt,
In our recreacyon, whyche chyefely is huntynge,
It may please you to sende us wether pleasaunt,
Drye and not mysty, the wynde calme and styll. 275
That after our houndes yournynge[132] so meryly,
Chasynge the dere over dale and hyll,
In herynge we may folow and to-comfort the cry.

_Jupyter._ Ryght well we do perceyve your hole request,
Whyche shall not fayle to reste in memory, 280
Wherfore we wyll ye set your-selfe at rest,
Tyll we have herde eche man indyfferently,
And we shall take suche order, unyversally,
As best may stande to our honour infynyte,
For welth in commune and ech mannys synguler profyte. 285

_Gentylman._ In heven and yerth honoured be the name
Of Jupyter, who of his godly goodnes
Hath set this mater in so goodly frame,
That every wyght shall have his desyre, doutles.
And fyrst for us nobles and gentylmen, 290
I doute not, in his wysedome, to provyde
Suche wether as in our huntynge, now and then,
We may both teyse[133] and receyve[134] on every syde.
Whyche thynge, ones had, for our seyd recreacyon,
Shall greatly prevayle[135] you in preferrynge our helth 295
For what thynge more nedefull then our preservacyon,
Beynge the weale and heddes of all comen welth?

_Mery-reporte._ Now I besech your mashyp, whose hed be you?

_Gentylman._ Whose hed am I? Thy hed. What seyst thou now?

_Mery-reporte._ Nay, I thynke yt very trew, so god me helpe! 300
For I have ever bene, of a lyttell whelpe, B ii
So full of fansyes, and in so many fyttes,
So many smale reasons, and in so many wyttes,
That, even as I stande, I pray God I be dede,
If ever I thought them all mete for one hede. 305
But syns I have one hed more then I knew,
Blame not my rejoycynge,--I love all thinges new.
And suer it is a treasour of heddes to have store:
One feate can I now that I never coude before.

_Gentylman._ What is that?

_Mery-reporte._ By god, syns ye came hyther, 310
I can set my hedde and my tayle togyther.
This hed shall save mony, by Saynt Mary,
From hensforth I wyll no potycary;
For at al tymys, when suche thynges shall myster
My new hed shall geve myne olde tayle a glyster.[136] 315
And, after all this, then shall my hedde wayte
Uppon my tayle, and there stande at receyte.
Syr, for the reste I wyll not now move you,
But, yf we lyve, ye shall smell how I love yow.
And, sir, touchyng your sewt here, depart, when it please you
For be ye suer, as I can I wyll ease you. 321

_Gentylman._ Then gyve me thy hande. That promyse I take.
And yf for my sake any sewt thou do make,
I promyse thy payne to be requyted
More largely than now shall be recyted. 325

_Mery-reporte._ Alas, my necke! Goddes pyty, where is my hed?
By Saynt Yve, I feare me I shall be deade.
And yf I were, me-thynke yt were no wonder,
Syns my hed and my body is so farre asonder,

_Entreth the_ MARCHAUNT.

Mayster person,[137] now welcome by my life! 330
I pray you, how doth my maistres, your wyfe?[138]

_Marchaunt._ Syr, for the presthod and wyfe that ye alledge
I se ye speke more of dotage then knowledge.
But let pas, syr, I wolde to you be sewter
To brynge me, yf ye can, before Jupiter. 335

[_Mery-reporte._] Yes, Mary, can I, and wyll do yt in dede.
Tary, and I shall make wey for your spede. [_Goes to_ JUPYTER.]
In fayth, good lorde, yf it please your gracyous godshyp,
I muste have a worde or twayne wyth your lordship. B ii _b_
Syr, yonder is a nother man in place, 340
Who maketh great sewt to speke wyth your grace.
Your pleasure ones knowen, he commeth by and by.[139]

_Jupyter._ Bryng hym before our presens, sone, hardely.

_Mery-reporte._ Why! where be you? shall I not fynde ye?
Come a-way, I pray god, the devyll blynde ye! 345

_Marchaunt._ Moste myghty prynce and lorde of lordes all,
Right humbly besecheth your majeste
Your marchaunt-men thorow the worlde all,
That yt may please you, of your benygnyte,
In the dayly daunger of our goodes and lyfe, 350
Fyrste to consyder the desert of our request,
What welth we bryng the rest, to our great care & stryfe,
And then to rewarde us as ye shall thynke best.
What were the surplysage of eche commodyte,
Whyche groweth and encreaseth in every lande, 355
Excepte exchaunge by suche men as we be?
By wey of entercours, that lyeth on our hande[140]
We fraught from home, thynges wherof there is plente;
And home we brynge such thynges as there be scant.
Who sholde afore us marchauntes accompted be? 360
For were not we, the worlde shuld wyshe and want
In many thynges, whych now shall lack rehersall.
And, brevely to conclude, we beseche your hyghnes
That of the benefyte proclaymed in generall
We may be parte-takers, for comen encres, 365
Stablyshynge wether thus, pleasynge your grace,
Stormy, nor mysty, the wynde mesurable.
That savely we may passe from place to place,
Berynge our seylys for spede moste vayleable;[141]
And also the wynde to chaunge and to turne, 370
Eest, West, North and South, as best may be set,
In any one place not to longe to sojourne,
For the length of our vyage may lese our market.

_Jupyter._ Right well have ye sayde, and we accept yt so,
And so shall we rewarde you ere we go hens. 375
But ye muste take pacyens tyll we have harde mo,[142]
That we may indyfferently gyve sentens.
There may passe by us no spot of neglygence,
But justely to judge eche thynge, so upryghte B iii
That ech mans parte maye shyne in the selfe ryghte.[143] 380

_Mery-reporte._ Now, syr, by your fayth, yf ye shulde be sworne,
Harde ye ever god speke so, syns ye were borne?
So wysely, so gentylly hys wordes be showd!

_Marchaunt._ I thanke hys grace. My sewte is well bestowd.

_Mery-reporte._ Syr, what vyage entende ye nexte to go? 385

_Marchaunt._ I truste or myd-lente to be to Syo.[144]

_Mery-reporte._ Ha, ha! Is it your mynde to sayle at Syo?
Nay, then, when ye wyll, byr lady, ye maye go,
And let me alone with thys. Be of good chere!
Ye maye truste me at Syo as well as here. 390
For though ye were fro me a thousande myle space,
I wolde do as myche as ye were here in place,
For, syns that from hens it is so farre thyther,
I care not though ye never come agayne hyther.

_Marchaunt._ Syr, yf ye remember me, when tyme shall come, 395
Though I requyte not all, I shall deserve some.
_Exeat_ MARCHAUNT.

_Mery-reporte._ Now, farre ye well, & god thanke you, by saynt Anne,
I pray you, marke the fasshyon of thys honeste manne;
He putteth me in more truste, at thys metynge here,
Then he shall fynde cause why, thys twenty yere. 400

_Here entreth the_ RANGER.

_Ranger._ God be here, now Cryst kepe thys company!

_Mery-reporte._ In fayth, ye be welcome, evyn very skantely!
Syr, for your comynge what is the mater?

_Ranger._ I wolde fayne speke with the god Jupyter.

_Mery-reporte._ That wyll not be, but ye may do thys-- 405
Tell me your mynde. I am an offycer of hys.

_Ranger._ Be ye so? Mary, I crye you marcy.
Your maystership may say I am homely.
But syns your mynde is to have reportyd
The cause wherfore I am now resortyd, 410
Pleasyth your maystership it is so.
I come for my-selfe and suche other mo,
Rangers and kepers of certayne places,
As forestes, parkes, purlews and chasys[145]
Where we be chargyd with all maner game. 415
Smale in our profyte and great is our blame.
Alas! For our wages, what be we the nere?
What is forty shyllynges, or fyve marke, a yere? B iii _b_
Many tymes and oft, where we be flyttynge,
We spende forty pens a pece at a syttinge. 420
Now for our vauntage, whyche chefely is wyndefale.
That is ryght nought, there bloweth no wynde at all,
Whyche is the thynge wherin we fynde most grefe,
And cause for my commynge to sew for relefe,
That the god, of pyty, al thys thynge knowynge, 425
May sende us good rage of blustryng and blowynge,
And, yf I can not get god to do some good,
I wolde hyer the devyll to runne thorow the wood,
The rootes to turne up, the toppys to brynge under.
A mischyefe upon them, and a wylde thunder! 430

_Mery-reporte._ Very well sayd, I set by your charyte
As mych, in a maner, as by your honeste.
I shall set you somwhat in ease anone.
Ye shall putte on your cappe, when I am gone.
For, I se, ye care not who wyn or lese, 435
So ye maye fynde meanys to wyn your fees.

_Ranger._ Syr, as in that, ye speke as it please ye.
But let me speke with the god, yf it maye be.
I pray you, lette me passe ye.

_Mery-reporte._ Why, nay, syr! By the masse, ye-- 440

_Ranger._ Then wyll I leve you evyn as I founde ye.

_Mery-reporte._ Go when ye wyll. No man here hath bounde ye.

_Here entreth the_ WATER MYLLER _and the_ RANGER _goth out_.

_Water Myller._ What the devyll shold skyl,[146] though all the world
were dum,
Syns in all our spekynge we never be harde?
We crye out for rayne, the devyll sped drop wyll cum. 445
We water myllers be nothynge in regarde.
No water have we to grynde at any stynt,
The wynde is so stronge the rayne cannot fall,
Whyche kepeth our myldams as drye as a flynt.
We are undone, we grynde nothynge at all, 450
The greter is the pyte, as thynketh me.
For what avayleth to eche man his corne,
Tyll it be grounde by such men as we be?
There is the loss, yf we be forborne.[147]
For, touchynge our-selfes, we are but drudgys, 455
And very beggers save onely our tole, B iv
Whiche is ryght smale and yet many grudges
For gryste of a busshell to gyve a quarte bole.[148]
Yet, were not reparacyons, we myght do wele.
Our mylstons, our whele with her kogges, & our trindill[149] 460
Our floodgate, our mylpooll, our water whele,
Our hopper,[150] our extre,[151] our yren spyndyll,
In this and mych more so great is our charge,
That we wolde not recke though no water ware,
Save onely it toucheth eche man so large, 465
And ech for our neyghbour Cryste byddeth us care.
Wherfore my conscience hath prycked me hyther,
In thys to sewe, accordynge to the cry,[152]
For plente of raine to the god Jupiter
To whose presence I wyll go evyn boldely. 470

_Mery-reporte._ Sir, I dowt nothynge your audacyte,
But I feare me ye lacke capacyte,
For, yf ye were wyse, ye myghte well espye,
How rudely ye erre from rewls of courtesye.
What! ye come in revelynge and reheytynge,[153] 475
Evyn as a knave might go to a beare-beytynge!

_Water Myller._ All you bere recorde what favour I have!
Herke, howe famylyerly he calleth me knave!
Dowtles the gentylman is universall!
But marke thys lesson, syr. You shulde never call 480
Your felow knave, nor your brother horeson;
For nought can ye get by it, when ye have done.

_Mery-reporte._ Thou arte nother brother nor felowe to me,
For I am goddes servaunt, mayst thou not se?
Wolde ye presume to speke with the great god? 485
Nay, dyscrecyon and you be to farre od![154]
Byr lady, these knaves must be tyed shorter.[155]
Syr, who let you in? Spake ye with the porter?

_Water Myller._ Nay, by my trouth, nor wyth no nother man.
Yet I saw you well, when I fyrst began. 490
How be it, so helpe me god and holydam,[156]
I toke you but for a knave, as I am.
But, mary, now, syns I knowe what ye be,
I muste and wyll obey your authoryte.
And yf I maye not speke wyth Jupiter 495
I beseche you be my solycyter. B iv _b_

_Mery-reporte._ As in that, I wyl be your well-wyller.
I perceyve you be a water myller.
And your hole desyre, as I take the mater,
Is plente of rayne for encres of water. 500
The let wherof, ye affyrme determynately,
Is onely the wynde, your mortall enemy.

_Water Myller._ Trouth it is, for it blowyth so alofte,
We never have rayne, or, at the most, not ofte.
Wherfore, I praye you, put the god in mynde 505
Clerely for ever to banysh the wynde.

_Here entreth the_ WYNDE MYLLER.

_Wynde Myller._ How! Is all the wether gone or I come?
For the passyon of god, helpe me to some.
I am a wynd-miller, as many mo be.
No wretch in wretchydnes so wrechyd as we! 510
The hole sorte[157] of my crafte be all mard at onys,
The wynde is so weyke it sturryth not our stonys,
Nor skantely can shatter[158] the shyttyn sayle
That hangeth shatterynge[159] at a womans tayle.
The rayne never resteth, so longe be the showres, 515
From tyme of begynnyng tyl foure & twenty howres;
And, ende whan it shall, at nyght or at none,
An-other begynneth as soone as that is done.
Such revell of rayne ye knowe well inough,
Destroyeth the wynde, be it never so rough, 520
Wherby, syns our myllys be come to styll standynge,
Now maye we wynd-myllers go evyn to hangynge.
A myller! with a moryn[160] and a myschyefe!
Who wolde be a myller? As good be a thefe!
Yet in tyme past, when gryndynge was plente, 525
Who were so lyke goddys felows as we?
As faste as god made corne, we myllers made meale.
Whyche myght be best forborne[161] for comyn weale?
But let that gere passe, for I feare our pryde
Is cause of the care whyche god doth us provyde. 530
Wherfore I submyt me, entendynge to se
What comforte may come by humylyte.
And, now, at thys tyme, they sayd in the crye,
The god is come downe to shape remedye.

_Mery-reporte._ No doute, he is here, even in yonder trone. C 535
But in your mater he trusteth me alone,
Wherein, I do perceyve by your complaynte,
Oppressyon of rayne doth make the wynde so faynte,
That ye wynde-myllers be clene caste away.

_Wynde Myller._ If Jupyter helpe not, yt is as ye say. 540
But, in few wordes to tell you my mynde rounde,[162]
Uppon this condycyon I wolde be bounde,
Day by day to say our ladyes' sauter,[163]
That in this world were no drope of water,
Nor never rayne, but wynde contynuall, 545
Then shold we wynde myllers be lordes over all.

_Mery-reporte._ Come on and assay how you twayne can agre--
A brother of yours, a myller as ye be!

_Water Myller._ By meane of our craft we may be brothers,
But whyles we lyve shal we never be lovers. 550
We be of one crafte, but not of one kynde,
I lyve by water and he by the wynde.

_Here_ MERY-REPORT _goth out_.

And, syr, as ye desyre wynde continuall,
So wolde I have rayne ever-more to fall,
Whyche two in experyence, ryght well ye se, 555
Ryght selde, or never, to-gether can be.
For as longe as the wynde rewleth, yt is playne,
Twenty to one ye get no drop of rayne;
And when the element is to farre opprest,
Downe commeth the rayne and setteth the wynde at reste. 560
By this, ye se, we can-not both obtayne.
For ye must lacke wynde, or I must lacke rayne.
Whertore I thynke good, before this audiens,
Eche for our selfe to say, or we go hens;
And whom is thought weykest, when we have fynysht, 565
Leve of his sewt and content to be banysht.

_Wynde Myller._ In fayth, agreed! but then, by your lycens,
Our mylles for a tyrne shall hange in suspens.
Syns water and wynde is chyefely our sewt,
Whyche best may be spared we woll fyrst dyspute. 570
Wherfore to the see my reason shall resorte,
Where shyppes by meane of wynd try from port to porte,
From lande to lande, in dystaunce many a myle,--
Great is the passage and smale is the whyle.
So great is the profile, as to me doth seme, C i _b_ 575
That no man's wysdome the welth can exteme.[164]
And syns the wynde is conveyer of all
Who but the wynde shulde have thanke above all?

_Water Myller._ Amytte[165] in this place a tree here to growe,
And therat the wynde in great rage to blowe; 580
When it hath all blowen, thys is a clere case,
The tre removeth no here-bred[166] from hys place.
No more wolde the shyppys, blow the best it cowde.
All though it wolde blow downe both mast & shrowde,
Except the shyppe flete[167] uppon the water 585
The wynde can ryght nought do,--a playne matter.
Yet maye ye on water, wythout any wynde,
Row forth your vessell where men wyll have her synde.[168]
Nothynge more rejoyceth the maryner,
Then meane cooles[169] of wynde and plente of water. 590
For, commenly, the cause of every wracke
Is excesse of wynde, where water doth lacke.
In rage of these stormys the perell is suche
That better were no wynde then so farre to muche.

_Wynde Myller._ Well, yf my reason in thys may not stande, 595
I wyll forsake the see and lepe to lande.
In every chyrche where goddys servyce is,
The organs beare brunt of halfe the quere,[170] i-wys.
Whyche causeth the sounde, of water or wynde?
More-over for wynde thys thynge I fynde 600
For the most parte all maner mynstrelsy,
By wynde they delyver theyr sound chefly,
Fyll me a bagpype of your water full,
As swetely shall it sounde as it were stuffyd with wull.

_Water Myller._ On my fayth I thynke the moone be at the full, 605
For frantyke fansyes be then most plentefull.
Which are at the pryde of theyr sprynge in your[171] hed,
So farre from our matter he[171] is now fled.
As for the wynde in any instrument,
It is no percell of our argument, 610
We spake of wynde that comyth naturally
And that is wynde forcyd artyfycyally,
Whyche is not to purpose. But, yf it were,
And water, in dede, ryght nought coulde do there,
Yet I thynke organs no suche commodyte,[172] C ii 615
Wherby the water shulde banyshed be.
And for your bagpypes, I take them as nyfuls,[173]
Your mater is all in fansyes and tryfuls.

_Wynde Myller._ By god, but ye shall not tryfull me of[174] so!
Yf these thynges serve not, I wyll reherse mo. 620
And now to mynde there is one olde proverbe come,
One bushell of marche dust is worth a kynges raunsome,
What is a hundreth thousande bushels worth than?

_Water Myller._ Not one myte, for the thynge selfe, to no man.

_Wynde Myller._ Why shall wynde every-where thus be objecte? 625
Nay, in the hye wayes he shall take effecte,
Where as the rayne doth never good but hurt,
For wynde maketh but dust and water maketh durt.
Powder or syrop, syrs, whyche lycke ye best?
Who lycketh not the tone maye lycke up the rest. 630
But, sure, who-so-ever hath assayed such syppes,
Had lever have dusty eyes then durty lyppes.
And it is sayd, syns afore we were borne,
That drought doth never make derth of corne.
And well it is knowen, to the most foole here, 635
How rayne hath pryced corne within this vii. yeare.[175]

_Water Myller._ Syr, I pray the, spare me a lytyll season.
And I shall brevely conclude the wyth reason.
Put case on[176] somers daye wythout wynde to be,
And ragyous wynde in wynter dayes two or thre, 640
Mych more shall dry that one calme daye in somer,
Then shall those thre wyndy dayes in wynter.
Whom shall we thanke for thys, when all is done?
The thanke to wynde? Nay! Thanke chyefely the sone.
And so for drought, yf corne therby encres, 645
The sone doth comfort and rype all dowtles,
And oft the wynde so leyth the corne, god wot,
That never after can it rype, but rot.
Yf drought toke place, as ye say, yet maye ye se,
Lytell helpeth the wynde in thys commodyte. 650
But, now, syr, I deny your pryncypyll.
Yf drought ever were, it were impossybyll
To have ony grayne, for, or it can grow,
Ye must plow your lande, harrow and sow,
Whyche wyll not be, except ye maye have rayne C ii _b_ 655
To temper the grounde, and after agayne
For spryngynge and plumpyng all maner corne
Yet muste ye have water, or all is forlorne.
Yf ye take water for no commodyte
Yet must ye take it for thynge of necessyte, 660
For washynge, for skowrynge, all fylth clensynge,
Where water lacketh what bestely beynge!
In brewyng, in bakynge, in dressynge of meate,
Yf ye lacke water, what coulde ye drynke or eate?
Wythout water coulde lyve neyther man nor best, 665
For water preservyth both moste and lest.
For water coulde I say a thousande thynges mo,
Savynge as now the tyme wyll not serve so;
And as for that wynde that you do sew fore,
Is good for your wynde-myll and for no more. 670
Syr, syth all thys in experyence is tryde,
I say thys mater standeth clere on my syde.

_Wynde Myller._ Well, syns thys wyll not serve, I wyll alledge the
reste.
Syr, for our myllys I saye myne is the beste.
My wynd-myll shall grynd more corne in one our 675
Then thy water-myll shall in thre or foure,
Ye more then thyne shulde in a hole yere,
Yf thou myghtest have as thou hast wyshyd here.
For thou desyrest to have excesse of rayne,
Whych thyng to the were the worst thou couldyst obtayne. 680
For, yf thou dydyst, it were a playne induccyon[177]
To make thyne owne desyer thyne owne destruccyon.
For in excesse of rayne at any flood
Your myllys must stande styll; they can do no good.
And whan the wynde doth blow the uttermost 685
Our wyndmylles walke a-mayne in every cost.
For, as we se the wynde in hys estate,
We moder[178] our-saylys after the same rate.
Syns our myllys grynde so farre faster then yours,
And also they may grynde all tymes and howrs, 690
I say we nede no water-mylles at all,
For wyndmylles be suffycyent to serve all.

_Water Myller._ Thou spekest of all and consyderest not halfe!
In boste of thy gryste thou art wyse as a calfe!
For, though above us your mylles grynde farre faster, C iii 695
What helpe to those from whome ye be myche farther?
And, of two sortes, yf the tone shold be conserved,
I thynke yt mete the moste nomber be served.
In vales and weldes, where moste commodyte is,
There is most people: ye must graunte me this. 700
On hylles & downes, whyche partes are moste barayne,
There muste be few; yt can no mo sustayne.
I darre well say, yf yt were tryed even now,
That there is ten of us to one of you.
And where shuld chyefely all necessaryes be, 705
But there as people are moste in plente?
More reason that you come vii. myle to myll
Then all we of the vale sholde clyme the hyll.
If rayne came reasonable, as I requyre yt,
We sholde of your wynde mylles have nede no whyt. 710

_Entreth_ MERY-REPORTE.

_Mery-reporte._ Stop, folysh knaves, for your reasonynge is suche,
That ye have resoned even ynough and to much.
I hard all the wordes that ye both have hadde,
So helpe me god, the knaves be more then madde!
Nother of them both that hath wyt nor grace, 715
To perceyve that both myllys may serve in place.
Betwene water and wynde there is no suche let,
But eche myll may have tyme to use his fet.
Whyche thynge I can tell by experyens;
For I have, of myne owne, not farre from hens, 720
In a corner to-gether a couple of myllys,
Standynge in a marres[179] betweene two hyllys,
Not of inherytaunce, but by my wyfe;
She is feofed in the tayle for terme of her lyfe,
The one for wynde, the other for water. 725
And of them both, I thanke god, there standeth[180] nother;
For, in a good hour be yt spoken,
The water gate is no soner open,
But clap, sayth the wyndmyll, even strayght behynde!
There is good spedde, the devyll and all they grynde! 730
But whether that the hopper be dusty,
Or that the mylstonys be sumwhat rusty,
By the mas, the meale is myschevous musty!
And yf ye thynke my tale be not trusty, C iii _b_
I make ye trew promyse: come, when ye lyste, 735
We shall fynde meane ye shall taste of the gryst.

_Water Myller._ The corne at receyte happely is not good.

_Mery-reporte._ There can be no sweeter, by the sweet roode!
Another thynge yet, whyche shall not be cloked,
My watermyll many tymes is choked. 740

_Water Myller._ So wyll she be, though ye shuld burste your bones,
Except ye be perfyt in settynge your stones.
Fere not the lydger,[181] beware your ronner.
Yet this for the lydger, or ye have wonne her,
Parchaunce your lydger doth lacke good peckyng. 745

_Mery-reporte._ So sayth my wyfe, & that maketh all our checkyng.[182]
She wolde have the myll peckt, peckt, peckt, every day!
But, by god, myllers muste pecke when they may!
So oft have we peckt that our stones wax right thynne,
And all our other gere not worth a pyn, 750
For with peckynge and peckyng I have so wrought,
That I have peckt a good peckynge-yron to nought.
How be yt, yf I stycke no better tyll her,
My wyfe sayth she wyll have a new myller.
But let yt passe! and now to our mater! 755
I say my myllys lacke nother wynde nor water;
No more do yours, as farre as nede doth requyre.
But, syns ye can not agree, I wyll desyre
Jupyter to set you both in suche rest
As to your welth and his honour may stande best. 760

_Water Myller._ I praye you hertely remember me.

_Wynde Myller._ Let not me be forgoten, I beseche ye.

_Both_ MYLLERS _goth forth_.

_Mery-reporte._ If I remember you not both alyke
I wolde ye were over the eares in the dyke.
Now be we ryd of two knaves at one chaunce. 765
By saynte Thomas, yt is a knavyshe ryddaunce.

_The_ GENTYLWOMAN _entreth_.

_Gentylwoman._ Now, good god, what a foly is this?
What sholde I do where so mych people is?
I know not how to passe in to the god now.

_Mery-reporte._ No, but ye know how he may passe into you. 770

_Gentylwoman._ I pray you let me in at the backe syde.

_Mery-reporte._ Ye, shall I so, and your fore syde so wyde? C iv
Nay not yet; but syns ye love to be alone,
We twayne will into a corner anone.
But fyrste, I pray you, come your way hyther, 775
And let us twayne chat a whyle to-gyther.

_Gentylwoman._ Syr, as to you I have lyttell mater.
My commynge is to speke wyth Jupiter.

_Mery-reporte._ Stande ye styll a whyle, and I wyll go prove
Whether that the god wyll be brought in love. 780
My lorde, how nowe! loke uppe lustely!
Here is a derlynge come, by saynt Antony.
And yf yt be your pleasure to mary,
Speke quyckly; for she may not tary.
In fayth, I thynke ye may wynne her anone; 785
For she wolde speke with your lordshyp alone.

_Jupyter._ Sonne, that is not the thynge at this tyme ment.
If her sewt concerne no cause of our hyther resorte,
Sende her out of place; but yf she be bent
To that purpose, heare her and make us reporte. 790

_Mery-reporte._ I count women lost, yf we love them not well,
For ye se god loveth them never a dele.
Maystres ye can not speake wyth the god.

_Gentylwoman._ No! why?

_Mery-reporte._ By my fayth, for his lordship is ryght besy.
Wyth a pece of worke that nedes must be doone; 795
Even now is he makyng of a new moone.
He sayth your olde moones be so farre tasted,[183]
That all the goodnes of them is wasted,
Whyche of the great wete hath ben moste mater
For olde moones be leake;[184] they can holde no water. 800
But for this new mone, I durst lay my gowne,
Except a few droppes at her goyng downe,
Ye get no rayne tyll her arysynge,
Wythout yt nede, and then no mans devysynge
Coulde wyshe the fashyon of rayne to be so good; 805
Not gushynge out lyke gutters of Noyes flood,
But small droppes sprynklyng softly on the grounde;
Though they fell on a sponge they wold gyve no sounde.
This new moone shall make a thing spryng more in this while
Then a olde moone shal while a man may go a mile. 810
By that tyme the god hath all made an ende, C iv _b_
Ye shall se how the wether wyll amende.
By saynt Anne, he goeth to worke even boldely.
I thynke hym wyse ynough; for he loketh oldely!
Wherfore, maystres, be ye now of good chere; 815
For though in his presens ye can not appere,
Tell me your mater and let me alone.
Mayhappe I will thynke on you when you be gone.

_Gentylwoman._ Forsoth, the cause of my commynge is this:
I am a woman right fayre, as ye se; 820
In no creature more beauty then in me is;
And, syns I am fayre, fayre wolde I kepe me,
But the sonne in somer so sore doth burne me,
In wynter the wynde on every side me.
No parte of the yere wote I where to turne me, 825
But even in my house am I fayne to hyde me.
And so do all other that beuty have;
In whose name at this tyme, this sewt I make,
Besechynge Jupyter to graunt that I crave;
Whyche is this, that yt may please hym, for our sake, 830
To sende us wether close and temperate,
No sonne-shyne, no frost, nor no wynde to blow.
Then wolde we get[185] the stretes trym as a parate.[186]
Ye shold se how we wolde set our-selfe to show.

_Mery-reporte._ Jet where ye wyll, I swere by saynt Quintyne, 835
Ye passe them all, both in your owne conceyt and myne.

_Gentylwoman._ If we had wether to walke at our pleasure,
Our lyves wolde be mery out of measure.
One part of the day for our apparellynge
Another parte for eatynge and drynkynge, 840
And all the reste in stretes to be walkynge,
Or in the house to passe tyme with talkynge.

_Mery-reporte._ When serve ye God?

_Gentylwoman._ Who bosteth in vertue are but dawes[187]

_Mery-reporte._ Ye do the better, namely syns there is no cause.
How spende ye the nyght?

_Gentylwoman._ In daunsynge and syngynge 845
Tyll mydnyght, and then fall to slepynge.

_Mery-reporte._ Why, swete herte, by your false fayth, can ye syng?

_Gentylwoman._ Nay, nay, but I love yt above all thynge.

_Mery-reporte._ Now, by my trouth, for the love that I owe you, D i
You shall here what pleasure I can shew you. 850
One songe have I for you, suche as yt is,
And yf yt were better ye should have yt, by gys.[188]

_Gentylwoman._ Mary, syr, I thanke you even hartely.

_Mery-reporte._ Come on, syrs; but now let us synge lust[e]ly.

_Here they singe._

_Gentylwoman._ Syr, this is well done; I hertely thanke you. 855
Ye have done me pleasure, I make God avowe.
Ones in a nyght I long for suche a fyt;
For longe tyme have I bene brought up in yt.

_Mery-reporte._ Oft tyme yt is sene, both in court and towne,
Longe be women a bryngyng up & sone brought downe. 860
So fet[189] yt is, so nete yt is, so nyse yt is,
So trycke[190] yt is, so quycke yt is, so wyse yt is.
I fere my self, excepte I may entreat her,
I am so farre in love I shall forget her.
Now, good maystres, I pray you, let me kys ye-- 865

_Gentylwoman._ Kys me, quoth a! Why, nay, syr, I wys ye.

_Mery-reporte._ What! yes, hardely! Kys me ons and no more.
I never desyred to kys you before.

_Here the_ LAUNDER _cometh in_.