<2Here ts conteyned a godely interlude of Fulgens cenatoure of Rome, Lucres his>2
<2doughter, Gayus flaminius, and Publius Cornelius, of the Disputacyon of>2
<2Noblenes, and is devyded in two partyes to be played at two tymes. Compyled by>2
<2mayster Henry Medwall, late chapelayne to the ryght reverent fader in God Johan>2
<2Morton, cardynall and archebysshop of Caunterbury.>2


                                             <2Intrat A dicen:>2

<2A>2            A, for Goddis will,
             What meane ye, syrs, to stond so still?
             Have not ye etyn and your fill
                  And payd no thinge therfore?
             Iwys, syrs, thus dare I say,
             He that shall for the shott pay
             Vouch saveth that ye largely assay
                  Suche mete as he hath in store.

             I trowe your disshes be not bare,
             Nor yet ye do the wyne spare,
             Therfore be mery as ye fare.
                  Ye ar welcom eche oon
             Unto this house withoute faynynge.
             But I mervayle moche of one thinge,
             That after this mery drynkynge
                  And good recreacyon

             There is no wordes amonge this presse --
            <2Non sunt loquele neque sermones -->2
             But as it were men in sadnes.
                  Here ye stonde musynge,
             Whereaboute I can not tell --
             [                           ]
             Or some els praty damesell
                  For to daunce and sprynge.

             Tell me, what calt, is it not so?
             I am sure here shalbe somewhat ado,
             And iwis I will know it or I go
                  Withoute I be dryvyn hens.
                                             <2Intrat B.>2
<2B>2            Nay, nay, hardely man, I undertake
             No man wyll suche mastryes make.
             And it were but for the maner sake,
                  Thou maist tary by licence

|p
              Among other men and see the pley --
              I warand no man wyll say the nay.
<2A>2             I thinke it well evyn as ye say
                  That no man wyll me greve.
              But I pray you, tell me that agayn:
              Shall here be a play?
<2B>2                                  Ye, for certeyn.
<2A>2             By my trouth, therof am I glad and fayn.
                  And ye will me beleve,

              Of all the worlde I love suche sport.
              It dothe me so myche plesure and comfort,
              And that causith me ever to resort
                  Wher suche thing is to do.
              I trowe your owyn selfe be oon
              Of them that shall play.
<2B>2                                     Nay, I am none.
              I trowe thou spekyst in derision
                  To lyke me therto.

<2A>2             Nay, I mok not, wot ye well,
              For I thought verely by your apparell
              That ye had bene a player.
<2B>2                                        Nay, never a dell.
<2A>2                 Than I cry you mercy:
              I was to blame. Lo, therfor, I say
              Ther is so myche nyce aray
              Amonges these galandis now aday
                  That a man shall not lightly

              Know a player from a nother man.
              But now to the purpose wher I began:
              I see well here shalbe a play than.
<2B>2                 Ye, that ther shall doutles,
              And I trow ye shall like it well.
<2A>2             It semeth than that ye can tell
              Sumwhat of the mater.
<2B>2                                    Ye, I am of counsell--
                  One tolde me all the processe.
<2A>2             And I pray you, what shall it be?
<2B>2             By my fayth, as it was tolde me
                  More than ones or twyse,
              As fare as I can bere it awaye
              All the substaunce of theyr play
                  Shall procede this wyse:

|p
When thempire of Rome was in such floure
That all the worlde was subgett to the same,
Than was there an nobill senatour,
And as I remember, Fulgens was his name,
Whiche had a doughter of nobill fame.
And yet, as thauctor sayth in veray dede,
Her nobill vertu dide her fame excede,

All be it there was not one allmost
Thoroughoute all the cyte, yong ne olde,
That of her beaute did not boste.
And over that, her verteuse manyfolde
In suche maner wyse were praysid and tolde
That it was thought she lakkede no thing
To a nobill woman that was accordyng.

Grete labour was made her favour to attayne
In the way of mariage, and among all
That made suche labour were specially twayn
Whiche more than other dyd besily on her call,
On the whiche twayn she sett her mynde especiall,
So that she utterly determyned in her hert
The one of them to have, all other sett aparte.

One of them was called Publius Cornelius,
Borne of noble blode, it is no nay.
That other was one Gayus Flamy
Borne of a pore stocke, as men doth say
But for all that, many a fayre day
Thorough his grete wisedome and vertueous behavyour
He rulyd the comen wele to his grete honoure.
And how so be it that the vulgare opynion
Hade both these men in lyke favour and reverence,
Supposing they had bene of lyke condycion,
Yet this seyd woman of inestimable prudence
Sawe that there was some maner of difference,
For the whiche her answere she differred and spared
Tyll both theyre condycions were openly declared.

And yet to them both this comfort she gave:
He that coude be founde more noble of them twayne,
In all godely maner her harte sholde he have.
Of the which answere they both were glade and fayne,
For ether of them trustede therby to attayne
Theffecte of his desyre. Yet when they had do,
One of them must nedis his appetit forgoo.

|p
              Hereuppon was areysyd a grete doute and question.
              Every man all after as he was affeccionate
              Unto the parties seyd his opynion,
              But at the laste, in eschewyng of debate,
              This matter was brought before the cenate,
              They to gyve therin an utter sentence
              Whiche of these two men sholde have the preeminence.

              And finally they gave sentence and awarde
              That Gayus Flamyneus was to be commende
              For the moie nobill man, havynge no regarde
              To his lowe byrthe of the whiche he dyde dyscende,
              But onely to his vertue thay dyde therin attende,
              Whiche was so grete that of convenience
              All the cyte of Rome dyd hym honour and reverence.

<2A>2             And shall this be the proces of the play?
<2B>2             Ye, so I understonde be credible informacyon.
<2A>2             By my fayth, but yf it be evyn as ye say,
                  I wyll advyse them to change that conclusion.
              What? Wyll they afferme that a chorles son
              Sholde be more noble than a gentilman born?
              Nay, beware, for men wyll have therof grete scorn --

              It may not be spoken in no maner of case.
<2B>2             Yes, suche consyderacions may be layde
              That every resonable man in this place
              Wyll holde hym therin right well apayde --
              The matter may be so well convayde.
<2A>2             Let them convay and cary clene than,
              Or els he wyll repent that this play began.
              How be it, the matter touchith me never a dell,
              For I am nether of vertue excellent
              Nor yet of gentyl blode. This I know well,
              But I speke it onely for this entent:
              I wolde not that any man sholde be shent.
              And yet there can no man blame us two,
              For why in this matter we have nought to do.

<2B>2             We? No, God wott, no thing at all,
              Save that we come to see this play
              As farre as we may by the leve of the marshall.
              I love to beholde suche myrthes alway,
              For y have sene byfore this day
              Of suche maner thingis in many a gode place
              Both gode examples and right honest solace.

|p
              This play in like wyse I am sure
              Is made for the same entent a[n]d purpose
              To do every man both myrth and pleasure.
              Wherfor I can not think or suppose
              That they wyll ony worde therin disclose
              But suche as shall stond with treuth and reason
              In godely maner according to the season.

<2A>2             Ye, but trouth may not be sayde alway,
              For somtyme it causith gruge and despite
<2B>2             Ye, goth the worlde so now a day
              That a man must say the crow is white?
<2A>2             Ye, that he must, be God allmyght.
              He must both lye and flater now and than
              That castith hym to dwell amonge worldly men.

              In some courtis such men shall most wyn.
<2B>2             Ye, but as for the parish where I abide,
              Suche flaterye is abhorride as dedly syn.
              And specially lyars be sett asyde
              As sone as they may with the faute be spied,
              For every man that favoreth and loveth vertue
              Wyll suche maner of folke utterly esscheue,

              Wherfor I can think these folke wyll not spare
              After playne trouth this matier to procede
              As the story seyth. Why shulde they care?
              I trow here is no man of the kyn or sede
              Of either partie, for why they were bore
              In the cytie of Rome as I sayd before.

              Therfor leve all this doutfull question
              And prayse at the parting evyn as ye fynde.
<2A>2             Yes, be ye sure, whan thei have all done
              I wyll not spare to shew you my mynd.
              Praise who wyll or dispraise, I will not be behynd.
              I wvll gest theron what so ever shal befall
              If I can fynd any man to gest withall.

<2B>2             Pees, no moo wordes, for now they come --
              The plears bene evyn here at hand.
<2A>2             So thei be, so help me God and halydome.
              I pray you, tell me where I shall stand.
<2B>2             Mary, stand evyn here by me, I warand.
              Geve rome there, syrs, for God avowe.
              Thei wold cum in if thei myght for you.

|p
<2A>2             Ye, but I pray the, what calt, tell me this:
              Who is he that now comyth yn?
<2B>2             Mary, it is Fulgence the senatour.
<2A>2                                                Ye, is?
              What; The father of the forseide virgyn?
<2B>2             Ye, forsoth, he shall this matere begyn.
<2A>2             And wher is feyr doughter Lucrece?
<2B>2             She comyth anon. I say, hold thy pece.
                                              <2Intrat Fulgens dicens:>2

<2Fulgens>2       Everlastyng joy with honoure and praise
              Be unto our most drad Lord and Savyour,
              Whiche doth us help and comfort many ways,
              Not lefyng us destitute of his ayde and socour,
              But lettith his son shyne on the riche and poore,
              And of his grace is ever indifferent
              All be yt he diversely commytteth his talent.
              To some he lendith the sprete of prophecy,
              To some the plenty of tonges eloquence,
              To some grete wisdome and worldly policy,
              To some litterature and speculatyf science,
              To some he geveth the grace of preemynence
              In honour and degre, and to some abundance
              Of tresoure, riches, and grete inheritaunce.

              Every man oweth to take gode hede
              Of this distribution, for who so doth take
              The larger benefite, he hath the more nede
              The larger recompense and thank therfor to make.
              I speke these wordes onely for myne owne sake
              And for non other person, for I know well
              That I am therin chargid as 1 shall you tell.

              When I consider and call to my remembraunce
              The prosperous lyfe that I have allwey
              Hyderto endured withoute any grevaunce
              Of wor[l]dly adversitie, well may I sey
              And thynke that I am bound to yeld and pay
              Grete prayse and thankes to the hye Kynge
              Of whom procedith and growith cvery gode thing.

              And certes, if I wold not praise of boste
              The benefytis that he hath done unto me,
              Yet is it well know of lest and most
              Thrughoute all Rome [t]hemperiall cyte
              What place in the cenate and honorable degre
              I occupye, and how I demean me in the same --
              All this can they tell that knowith but my name.

|p
 To speke of plenty and grete abundaunce
 Of wor[l]dly riches therunto belongyng,
 Houses of pleasure and grete inheritaunce,
 With riche apparell and every other thing
 That to a worthy man shold be according,
 I am and ever have be in metely gode case,
 For the whiche I thank allmighty God of his grace.

Than have I a wyfe of gode condicyon
And right conformable to myn entent
In every thing that is to be done.
And how be it that God hath me not sent
An hayr male, whiche were convenient
My name to continew and it to repeyre,
Yet am I not utterly destitute of an heyre,

For I have a doughter in whom I delight
As for the chefe comfort of myn olde age,
And surely my seyd doughter Lucres doth hight
Men seyth she is as lyke me in visage
As though she were evyn myn owne ymage,
For the whiche cause nature doth me force and bynde
The more to favour and love here in my mynde.

But yet the principall and grettist occasion
That makyth me to love her as I do
Is this, whiche 1 speke not of affection
But evyn as the treuth movith me therto:
Nature hath wrought in my Lucres so
That to speke of beaute and clere understanding
I can not thinke in here what shold be lakking.
And besides all that, vet a gretter thing
Whiche is not oft sene in so yong a damesell.
She is so discrete and sad in all demeanyng,
And therto full of honest and verteous counsell
Of here owne mynd, that wonder is to tell
The giftes of nature and of especiall grace
[                                         ]
Am not I gretly bound in this case
To God, as I rehersid you bifore?
I were to voyd of all reson and grace
lf I wold not serve and prayse hym therfore
With due love and drede -- he askyth no more.
As far as he will me grace therto send,
The rest of my lif therin will I spend,

|p
              Albe yt that 1 must partely intend
              To the promocyon of my doughter Lucres
              To some metely mariage, ellis God defend.
              She is my chief jewell and riches,
              My comfort agayn all care and hevynes,
              And also she is now of gode and ripe age
              To be a mannes fere by wey of mariage.

              Wherfor, if I might see or I dye
              That she were bestowid sumwhat accordyng,
              Then were my mynd dischargid utterly
              Of every grete cure to me belongyng.
              It was the chief cause of my hider cummyng
              To have a communication in this same matere
              With on Cornelius. Cam ther non suche here?

                                              <2Intrat Publius Cornelius>2
                                              <2dicens:>2
<2Cornelius>2     Yes, now am I come here at the last.
              I have taried long -- I cry you mercy!
<2Fulgens>2       Nay, no offence. Ther is no waste
              Nor losse of tyme yet hardely,
              For this is the oure that ye and I
              Apoyntid here to mete this other day.
              Now shew me your mynd, lete me here what ye say.

<2Cornetius>2     Than wyll I leve superfluite awey,
              For why ye know alredy my minde in substance.
<2Fulgens>2       I wot not whether I do, ye or nay.
<2Cornelius>2     Why, is it now oute of your remembraunce
              That my desire is to honour and advaunce
              Your doughter Lucres, if she will agree
              That I so pore a man her husbonde shuld be?

<2Fulgens>2       Ye nede not, syr, to use these wordis to me,
              For non in this cyte knowith better than I
              Of what grete birth or substaunce ye be.
              My doughter Lucres is full unworthy
              Of birth and goodis to loke so hye,
              Savyng that happily her gode condicyon
              May her enable to suche a promocyon.

              But if this be youre mynde and suche intent,
              Why do ye not laboure to her therfore?
              For me semyth it were ryght expedient
              That we know therin her mynde before
              Or ever we shold commune therof any more,
              For if she wold to your mynde apply,
              No man shalbe so glad therof as I.

|p
<2Cornelius>2     Suppose ye that I dyde not so begyn
              To gete fyrste her favoure? Yes, truste me well.
<2fulgens>2       And what comfort wolde she gyve you therin?
<2Cornelius>2     By my feyth, no grete comfort to tell
              Save that she abideth to have youre counsell.
              For as she seyth, she will no thing
              In suche mater to do withoute your counsell[yng],

              Nor other wyse than ye shalbe contente.
              And theruppon it was my mynde and desire
              To speke with you of her for the same intent
              Your gode will in this behalfe to requyre,
              For 1 am so brent in loves fyre
              That no thing may my payne aslake
              Withoute that ye wyll my cure undertake.

<2Fulgens>2       Syr, I shall do you the comfort that I can
              As far as she wil be advised by me.
              How be it, certeynly I am not the man
              That wyll take from her the liberte
              Of her owne choice -- that may not be.
              But when I speke with her, I shall her advyse
              To love you before other in all godely wyse.

<2Cornelius>2     I thanke you, syr, with all myn harte,
              And I pray you do it withoute delay.
<2Fulgens>2       As sone as I shall fro you departe
              I wyll her mynde therin assay,
              For I shall think that every howre is twayne
              Till I may speke with you agayne.

                                              <2[Exeat Fulgens.]>2
<2Cornelius>2     Now a wise felow that had sumwhat a brayne,
              And of suche thingis had experience,
              Such one wolde I with me retayne
              To gyve me counseile and assistence.
              For I will spare no cost or expence
              Nor yet refuse ony laboure or payne
              The love of fayre Lucres therby to attayne.

              So many gode felowes as byn in this hall,
              And is ther non, syrs, among you all
                    That wyll enterprise this gere?
              Some of you can do it if ye lust.
              But if ye wyl not, than I must
                  Go seche a man elliswhere.

                                              <2Et exeat. Deinde loquitur B:>2

|p
<2B>2             Now have I spied a mete office for me,
              For I wyl be of counsell and I may
              With yonder man.
<2A>2                                 Pece, let be.
              Be God, thou wyll distroy all the play.
<2B>2             Distroy the play, quod a? Nay, nay,
              The play began never till now.
              I wyll be doyng, I make God avow,
              For there is not in this hondred myle
              A feter bawde than I am one.
<2A>2             And what shall I do in the meane while?
<2B>2             Mary, thou shalt com in anone
              With a nother pageant
<2A>2                                     Who, I?
<2B>2                                              Ye, by Saynt Johan.
<2A>2             What? I never uside suche thing before.
<2B>2             But folow my counsell, and do no more.
              Loke that thou abide here still,
              And I shall undertake for to fulfyll
              All his mynde withouten delay.
              And whether I do so, ye or nay,
              At the lest, well dare I undertake
              The mariage utterly to mare or to make.

              If he and I make any bargeyn
              So that I must gyve hym attendaunce,
              When thou seest me com in ageyn,
              Stond evyn still and kepe thy contenaunce,
              For when Gayus Flamyneus comyth in
              Than must thou thy pageaunt begyn.
<2A>2             Shall ony profyt grow therby?
<2B>2             Hold thy pece. Speke not so hye,
              Leste any man of this company
              Know oure purpose openly
                   And breke all oure daunce.
              For I assure the feithfully,
              If thou quyte the as well as I,
                   This gere shall us both avaunce.
                              <2Exeat.>2

<2A>2             Nay then, let me alone hardely!
              Yf ony advauntage honge therby
              I can my selfe thereto apply
                   By helpe of gode counsell
              This felowe and I be maysterles
              And lyve moste parte in ydelnes,
              Therefore some maner of besenes
                   Wolde become us both well.

|p
               At the leste wyse, it is mery beynge
               With men in tyme of woynge,
               For all that whyle they do no thynge
                   But daunce and make revell,
               Synge and laugh with greate shoutynge,
               Fyll in wyne with revell routynge.
               I trowe it be a joyfull thinge
                   Amonge suche folke to dwell.
                                              <2Intrat Fulgens, Lueres, et>2
                                              <2Ancilla, et dicat.->2

<2Fulgens>2        Doughter Lucres, ye knowe well ynough
               What study and care I have for youre promocyon
               And what fatherly love I bere to you,
               So that I thynke in myne opynyon
               It were tyme loste and wastfull occupacyon
               This matter to reherse or tell you ony more,
               Syth ye it best knowe, as I sayde before.

               But the specyall cause that I speke fore
               Is touchynge youre mariage As ye knowe well,
                            here be that desyreth sore
               And laboureth in that behalve with you to mell.
               Ye knowe what is for you, ye nede no counsell.
               Howe so be it, yf ye lyste my counseyle to requyre,
               I shall be glad to satysfye therein youre desyre.

<2Lucres>2         Trought it is, fader, that I am bounde
               As moche unto you as ony chylde may be
               Unto the fader lyvynge on the grounde,
               And where it pleaseth you to gyve unto me
                   e owne fre choyse and my lyberte,
               It is the thynge that pleaseth me well
               Sith I shall have therein youre counsell.

               And nowe accordynge to this same purpose,
               What thynke ye best for me to do?
               Ye knowe ryghte well, as I suppose,
               That many folke doth me greatly woo,
                        he whiche there be specyally twoo
               In whome, as I trowe and so do ye,
               The choyce of this matter must fynally be --
               In that poynt your mynde and myne dothe agre.
               But yet, ryght now er I came here,
               For Publius Cornelius ye advysed me,
               As touchinge ye wolde have me only reste there.
               Yf that be youre mynde I shall gladly forbere
               All other, and only to hym assente
               To have me in wedlocke at his commaundemente.

|p
<2Fulgens>2        Naye, doughter Lucres, not so I mente,
               For though I dyde somwhat to hym enclyne,
               Yet for all that it is not myne entente
               That ye shulde so thereupon utterly diffyne,
               But loke whom ye wyll on Godys blessing and myne
               For truste ye me verely, it is all one to me
               Whether Gayus Flamyneus wedde you or els he.

<2Lucres>2         Than syth I have so greate lyberte
               And so gode choyce, 1 were unfortunable
               And also to unwyse yf I wolde not see
               That I had hym whiche is moste honorable
               Wherfore may it lyke you to be agreable
               That 1 may have respyte to make inquisycyon
               Whiche of this two men is better of condicyon.

<2Fulgens>2        1 holde me content, that shall be well done.
               lt may be respyted for a day or twayne,
               But in the meane tyme use this provysyon:
               Se that ye indyfferently them both entertayne
               Tyll that youre mynde be sett at a certayne
               Where ye shall rest now. Can ye do so?
<2Lucres>2         At the leste, my gode wyll shall I put thereto

<2Fulgens>2        Than syth I have bysynes at whome for to do,
               1 wyll go thetherwarde as fast as I may.
<2Lucres>2         Is it youre pleasure that I shall with you go?
<2Fulgens>2        Nay, I had lever that ye went your way
               Aboute this matter.
                                              <2Et exeat.>2
<2Lucres>2                             Well, God be with you than!
               I shall do therein the best that I can.

                                              <2Et facta aliqua Pausatione>2
                                              <2dicat Lucres:>2
<2Lucres>2         I wyll not dysclaunder nor blame no man,
              But neverthelesse, by that I here saye,
              Fore maydens be dissayved now and than.
              So greate dyssemblynge now a daye
              There is convayed under wordes gaye,
              That if...

<2Ancilla>2        Peace, lady, ye must forbere!
               Se ye not who cometh here?
<2Lucres>2             Who is it, wot ye ere?
<2Ancilla>2        It is Gayus Flamyneus, parde,
               He that wolde your husbonde be.
<2Lucres>2         Ey, gode Lorde, how wyste he
                   For to fynde me here?

                                              <2Sntrat Gayus Flaminius.>2

|p
<2Gayus>2         Yes, gode lady, where so ever ye go,
              He that lysteth to do his dylygence
              In suche manere wyse as I have do,
              At the laste he may come to youre presence.
              For who so ever oweth obedyence
              Unto love, he hath greate nede
              To attendaunce if he wyll spede.

<2Lucres>2        Svr, ye be welcome. What is your mvnde?
<2Gayus>2         Why, fayre Lucres, is that your gyse,
              To be so straunge and so unkynde
              To hym that owith you lovyng servyce?
              1 trow 1 have tolde you twyse or thrise
              That myn desyre is to mary with you.
              Have ye not herde this matter or now?

<2Lucres>2        Yes, in veray trouth, I have herde you say
              Att dyverse tymes that ye bare me affeccvon-
              To suche an intent I say not nay.
<2Gayus>2         What nede ye than to aske the question
              What 1 wolde with you at this season?
              Me semyth ye sholde therin doubt no more
              Sith ye know well myn erande before.

              Iwys, your strangnes greveth me sore,
              But not withstonding, now wyll I sece,
              And at this tyme 1 wyll chide no more
                             u cause of hevynes.
              I cam hyder onely for youre sake, doubtles,
              To glade you and please you in all that I can,
              And not for to chyde with you as I began.

              For thynke it in your mynde, I am the man
              That wolde you please in all that I rnay,
              And to that purpose I wyll do what I can
                       ye forbyde it and say therin nay --
              In that poynt onely I wyll you disobay
              My hart shall ye have in all godely wise
              Whether ye me take or utterly dispise.
              And to say that I will folow the gise
              Of wanton lovers now aday,
              Whiche doth many flatering wordis devise
              With gyftis of ringis and broches gay
              Theyr lemmans hartis for to betray,
              Ye must have me therin excusid,
              For it is the thing that I never usid.

|p
               Therfore I will be short and playne,
               And I pray you hartely, feyre Lucres,
               That ye wyll be so to me agayne.
               Ye know well I have made labour and besynes
               And also desyrid you by wordis expresse
               That ye wold vouche save in your harte
               To be my wife till deth us departe.

               Lo, this is the mater that I come fore-
               To know therin your mynde and plesoure,
               Whether ye sett by me ony store
               To theffect of my seyd desire.
               And nothing ellis I wyll require
               But that 1 may have a playne ye or nay,
               Whereto I may trust withoute delay.

<2Lucres>2         Me thinketh that by that that ye say,
               Ye force not what myne answere be.
<2Gayus>2          A, wyll ye take it that way?
               My lady, I ment not so parde.
               Thaffirmatyfe were most lefe to me,
               For as ye your self knowith best,
               That was and is my principall request.

               But ye may say I am a homely gest
               On a gentil[wo]man so hastely to call.
<2Lucres>2         Nay, nay, syr, that guyse is best
               Ye can not displeyse me with all,
               And accordyng to your desire I shall
               Evyn as sone as I godely may
               Answere you therin withoute delay.
               How be it, it can not be done strait way
               If I myght gett a realme therby.
               Fyrst wyll I my faders mynde assay
               Whether he wyll therunto applye.
               For if he like you as well as I,
               Your mynde in this behalf shalbe sone easid
               If my seyd fader can be content and pleysid.

<2Gayus>2          Gramercy, myne owne swete Lucres.
               Of you desire can I no more at all,
               Save onely that ye do your besynes
               Upon youre fader besily to call,
               So that what so ever shal befall,
               Within few days I may verily know
               To what effect this mater shal grow.

|p
<2Lucres>2        Ye shall know by tomorow nyght
              What my fader wyll sey therto
<2Gayus>2         Than shall ye make myne harte full light
              lf it pleyse you so to do.
<2Lucres>2        Yes, doubt ye not it shal be so,
              And for that cause I wyll even now departe.
<2Gayus>2         Now fare well than, myne owne swete harte.

                                              <2Et exeat Lucres [et>2
                                              <2Ancilla]. Deinde A>2
                                              <2accedens ad Gayum>2
                                              <2Flaminium dicat ei sic>2
<2A>2             Syr, ye seme a man of grete honoure,
              And that moveth me to be so bolde-
              I rede you, adventure not over moche laboure
              Upon this woman, leste ye take colde.
              I tell you, the mater is bought and solde!
              Withoute ye take the better hede,
              For all these feyre wordes ye shall not spede

<2Guyus>2         Thynkest thou so in very dede?
<2A>2             Ye, so helpe me God, and I shall tell you why:
              Syr, ryght now, this way as I yede,
              This gentylwoman cam even by,
              And a fresshe galant in her company.
              As God wolde, nere them I stalked
              And herde every worde that they talked.

<2Gayus>2         But spake they ony worde of me?
<2A>2             Nay, nay, ye were no thinge in her thoughte
              They were as besy as they myghte be
              Aboute suche a matter as ye have wroughte.
              And by God that me dere boughte,
              Loke what answer that ye now have,
              Even the same wordes to hym she gave.

              lwys, syr, I am but a pore knave,
              But yet I wolde take on me a greate payne
              Youre honeste in this matter to save,
              Though it be unto me no profyte nor gayne.
              But therefore I speke and have dysdayne
              To se in a woman suche dyssemblaunce
              Towarde a gentylman of youre substaunce
<2Gayus>2         Why, hast thou of me ony acquentaunce?
<2A>2             Ye, syr, and some tyme ye knewe me,
              Though it be now oute of youre remembraunce.
<2Guyus>2         By my fayth it may well be,
              But never the lesse I thanke the.
              Me semeth thou woldest that all were well
              Betwyxte me and yonder fayre damesell

|p
<2A>2             Ye, by God, I wolde fyghte in the quarell
              Rather than ye sholde lese youre ente[n]te.
<2Gayus>2         I praye the felowe, where doste thou dwell?
<2A>2             By my fayth, I am now at myn owne commaundement--
              I lacke a mayster, and that I me repente.
              To serve you and please I wolde be fayne
              Yf it myght lyke you me to retayne.
              And ol one thynge I wyll, a certayn
              I doubte not I shall do you better stede
              Towarde this maryage than some other twayne,
              And yf I do not, let me be dede
<2Gayus>2         Well, than wyll I do by thy rede,
              And in my servyce thou shalt be
              Yf thou canst fynde me any surete.

<2A>2             Yes, I can have sureties plente
              For my trouth within this place.
              Here is a gentilman that wolde truste me <2[Points to B.]>2
              For as moche gode as he hase.
<2Gayus>2         Ye, and that is but litle percase.
<2A>2             By my fayth, go where he shall,
              It is as honest a man as ony in the reall.

              I have no more acqueyntaunce within this hall
              If I wolde ony frendis assay.    <2[B comes foward.]>2
              By God, here is one best of all-
              I trow he wyll not say
              For he hath knowen me many a day.
              Syr, wyll not ye for my trouth undertake?
<2B>2             Yes, for God, els I wolde I were bake.
              Syr, my maister, wyll ye beleve me?
              I dare trust hym for all that I can make,
              Yf ye fynde me sufficient surete.
              As for his trouth, doubt not ye.
              I never coude by hym any thing espie
              But that he was as true a man as I.

              He and I dwelled many a feyre day
              In one scole, and yet I wot well
              From thens he bare never away
              The worth of an halfe peny that I can tell--
              Therfore he is able with you to dwell!
              As for his trought, that dare I well saye,
              Hardely truste hym therein ye maye.

|p
<2Gavus>2         Upon youre worde 1 shall assaye,
             And, syr, after thi gode deservynge,
             So shall I thy wagys pay
             But now to remembre one thinge
             Me thought thou saydist at the begynnynge
             That Lucres favoreth better than me
             A nother lover. What man is he?

<2A>2             Cornelius I wene his name sholde be.
<2Gayus>2         A, then, I knowe him well, by the rode.
              There is not within all this cyte
              A man borne of a better blode.
              But yet Lucres hath a wytt so gode
              That as I thynke she wyll before see
              Whether his condicyons therto agree,
              And if they do not, fare well he.
              But therin I have nought ado
              He shall not be dispraysid for me
              Withoute that I be compellid therto
              I can not let hym for to woo
                   oman beyng at her owne liberte,
              For why it is as fre for hym as for me.
              I wyll forbere never the more
              Tyll I knowe what shall be the ende.
              Go thy waye unto Lucres therfore
              And hertly me unto her recommende,
              Prayng her that she wyll me sende
                 A redy answere of that thing
              That she promised me at her departing.

<2A>2             Mary, I shall, without any tarying
              I knowe myne erand well inow:
              Ye shdll se me apoynte a metynge
              Where she agayne shall speke wyth you.
<2Gayus>2         Than shall 1 thy wyt alowe
                  hou can brynge that aboute!
<2A>2             Yes, that I shall do, have ye no doubte

                                             <2Et exeat Gayus Flaminius,>2
                                             <2et dicat B.>2
<2B>2             Now by my trought, I wolde not have thoughte
             That thou haddest bene halfe so wyse,
             For thou hast this matter featly wrought
             And convayed it poynt devyse
             To brynge thy selfe to suche a servyce --
             I se well thou hast some wytt in thy hede.
<2A>2             Ye, a lytell. But hast thou spede?

|p
<2B>2              Even lyke wyse, have thou no drede,
               I have goten a maister for my prowe --
               I never thryvede as I shall do now.
<2A>2              No? Whiche way?
<2B>2                                 I shall tell the how:
               It is no maystry to thryve at all
               Under a man that is so liberall.

               Ther is now late unto hym fall
               So grete goodis by inheritaunce
               That he wote never what to do with all,
               But lassheth it forth daily escaunce
               That he had no dayly remembraunce
               Of tyme to come, nor makyth no store,
               For he carith not whiche ende goth before.

               And by oure Lady, I commende hym the more.
               Why sholde he those goodis spare,
               Sith he laborede never therfore?
               Nay, and every man sholde care
               For goodis, and specially suche as are
               Of gentil blode, it were grete syn,
               For all liberalite in them sholde begyn.

               Many a pore man therby doth wyn
               The chef substauns of his lyving.
               My maister were worthy to be a kyng
               For liberall expensis in all his deling
               I trow thou shalt se hym com yn
               Lyke a rutter somwhat according
               In all apparell to hym belongyng.
               How moche payeth he, as ye suppose,
               For the makyng of a peyre of his hose?

<2A>2              Mary, twelve pence were a feyre thing.
<2B>2              Ye by the rode, twenty tymes tolde,
               That is evyn twenty shelyngis for the makyng.
<2A>2              It can not be so withoute a man wolde
               Make them all with sylke and golde.
<2B>2              Nay, by Jys, non erthly thing
               But evyn the bare cloth and the lynynge

               Save onely that ther is in cuttinge
               A new maner of fascyon now a day:
               Because they sholde be somwhat straunge,
               They moste be strypide all this way
               With small slypes of coloures gay,
               A codpece before allmost thus large,
               And therin restith the gretist charge!

|p
              To speke of gowns and that gode chaunge,
              Of them he hath store and plenty,
              And that the fascyons be new and straunge,
              For non of them passith the mydde thy.
              And yet he puttyth in a gown communely --
              How many brode yardis, as ye gesse?
<2A>2             Mary, two or thre.
<2B>2                                 Nay, seven and no lesse
<2A>2             By my trouth, that is lyke a lye.
<2B>2             But it is as true as ye stond there,
              And I shall tell you a reson why
              All that doth that fascyon were,
              They have whingis behynd redy to flye,
              And a sleve that wolde cover all the body
              Than forty playtis, as I think in my mynde,
              They have before, and as many behynde.
<2A>2             Well as for gentilmen, it is full kynde
                       theyr plesyrs that may well paye
<2B>2             Ye, but than this grugeth my mynde-
              A gentylman shall not were it a dave,
              But every man wyll hym self araye
              Of the same fascyon even by and by
              On the morow after.
<2A>2                                   Nay, that I defy
              But then I marvell gretly why
                            rnysshyd after that gyse.
<2B>2             There is never a knave in the house save I
              But his gowne is made in the same wyse,
              And for bycause I am new come to servyce,
              I must for a whyle be content
              To were stylle myn olde garment

<2A>2             Ye, but abyde To what intent
                          ayster take in honde
              To make hym so moche costely rayment?
<2B>2             Mary, that is esy to understonde
              All is done for Lucres sake --
              To wedde her he doth his rekenynge make.

<2A>2             1 put case that she do hym forsake
              So that she be my maysters wyf?
<2B>2             By my fayth, then I say it wyll make
                       man to lose his lyf,
              For therof wyll ryse a gret stryf!
<2A>2             Mary, I  pray God send us pes.
<2B>2             Be my fayth, it wyll be no lesse
              Yf my master have not Lucres.

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<2A>2            I can no more, God sped the ryght
             Lo,  thes folke wyll stryve and fyght
                  For this womans sake,
             And whan thay have done ther uttyrmest,
             I wene veryly he shall sped best
                  That must her forsake.

             He is well at ease that hath a wyf,
             Yet he is better that hath none, be my lyf.
             But he that hath a good wyf and wyll forsake her,
             I pray God the devyll take her.
<2B>2            Now in gode fayth thou art a made knave--
             I se well thou hast wedyd a shrew.
<2A>2                                                The devyll I have.

             Nay, I have marryed two or thre
             Syth the tyme that I her lost.
<2B>2            And kepist thou them all styll with the?
<2A>2            Nay, that wolde not quyte the cost
             To say the trouth, thay fond me most.

<2B>2            Than thay have some maner gettynge
             By some occupacione, have thay?
<2A>2            Syr, thay have a prety waye
              The chef meane of ther levynge
              ls lechery -- lech crafte I wolde say --
              Wherein thay labore nyght and day
              And ease many a man in some case
<2B>2            And where do thay dwell?
<2A>2                                       Att the Commen Place --

              There thou mayst them all fynde.
              Goddis mercy, where is my mynde?
                  By God, I shall be shent.
              I shold have gone to Lucres
              Abowte my maysters besynes --
                  Thetherwarde I was bent.

<2B>2            By my fayth, my mayster is there
             All the whyle that thou arte here,
                  As I veryly suppose.
<2A>2            I shrow thy face, by Saynt Mary
             With thy chaterynge thou doyst me tary
                  Evyn for the same purpose.

<2B>2            I say, whan thou hast with Lucres spoken,
             1 pray the, wyll thou delyver me a token
                  In myne name to her mayde?
<2A>2            Nay, ye muste be ware of that gere,
             For I have bene afore you there.
<2B>2                 Why, hast thou hyr assayed?

|p
<2A>2             Ye, ye, that matyr ys sped full.
              I may have her and she wull --
                  That comfort she me gave.
<2B>2             And hast thou no noder comfort att all?
             I truste to God than yet I shall
                  All this matyr save.
             How be it, I wyll not the matter begyn
             Withoute I were sure she were a virgyn.

<2A>2             By my trought, this comfort shall I putt the in --
              I cam never on her backe in the way of synne.
                                             <2Avoyde the place A.>2
<2B>2                 Than all is well and fyne
              Yf the matter be in that case.
              I trust that within a lytyll space
                  That wenche shall be myne.
              I tell you it is a trull of trust
              All to quenche a mannes thrust
                  Bettyr then ony wyne!

              It is a lytyll praty moucet,
              And her voyce is as doucett
                  And as swete as resty porke.
              Her face is some what browne and yelow,
              But for all that she hath no felow
                  In syngynge hens to Yorke.

              But the worst that grevyth me,
              She hath no layser nor lybarte
                  For an howre or twayne
              To be owte of her maystres syght.
              I wachyde for her this odyr nyght,
                  But all was in vayne.
              How be it, I thinke that at the laste
                                             <2Come in the maydyn.>2
              I shall come within two stonys caste
                  Of her--I aske no more.
              And yf I do so, then my mate
              Shall have no lust therin to prate
                  As he dyde before.
              Cockis body, here she is.
              Now wellcome by hevyn blys,
                  The last that was in my thought.
<2Ancilla>2       Tusshe, I pray you, let me go
              I have somewhat els to do,
                  For this howre I have soughte

|p
            A man that 1 sholde speke with all
            Fro my maystres.
                               What do you hym call?
<2Ancilla>2          Mayster Gayus or his man.
<2B>2           Am not I he that ye wolde have?
<2Ancilla>2     No,  no, 1 wolde have an other knave.
<2B>2                Why, am I a knave than?

<2Ancilla>2     Nay, I sayd not so perde.
            But where trow ye these folkis be?
                 1 can not veryly say.
            His man went evyn now frome me
            And I marvell gretly that ye
                 Met hym not by the way,
            For he is gone to speke with Lucres
            From his maystyr.
<2Ancilla>2                         What, with my maystres?
                 Nay.
                       Ye, so I harde hym say.

<2Ancilla>2     Goddis mercy, and I was sent
            Evyn hedyr for the same intent
                 To brynge an answere
            Of the erande that he is gone fore,
            Wherefore now ther is no more
                 But I must go seche hym there.

<2B>2       Nay, tary here a whyle gentyll Jone,
            For he wyll come hedyr anone.
<2Ancilla>2          Tary? Why shold 1 so?
            <2B>2 Mary, to laugh and talke with me
<2Ancilla>2     Nay, loke where suche gyglottis be,
            Fur 1 am none of them, 1 warne the,
                 That use so to do
<2B>2           I mene no thinge but good and honest
            And for your wele, and you lyst
                 To assent therunto.

<2Ancilla>2     For my wele, quod a? How may that be?
            That is a thinge that I can not se.
<2B>2           Mary, this, lo, is myne entent.
            I mene, yf ye wolde be content
                 Or ony wyse agree

            For to be my sacrament of penaunce --
            Ey, God gyve it a very vengeaunce. --
                 Of wedlocke 1 wolde have sayde.
<2ncilla>2      Tush, by Seynt Jame, ye do but mocke
            To speke to me of ony wedlocke,
                 And I so yonge a mayde.

|p
<2B>2             Why, are ye a mayde?
<2Ancilla>2       Ye, ellis I were to blame.
<2B>2             Where by wote ye?
<2Ancilla>2       Mary, for I ame.
<2B>2                 A, that is a thinge.
              Here ye not, syrs, what she sayth?
              So resonable a cause thereto she layth.
<2Ancilla>2           A straw for your mockynge
              Have ye none to mocke but me?
<2B>2             Mocke? Nay, so mote I the,
                  I mene evyne gode ernest.
              Geve me your honde and you shall se
              What I wyll promes you.
<2Ancilla>2       That way were not best for my prow!

              Wold ye hondefast me forth with all?
              Nay, be the roode, fyrst ye shall
                  Chepe or ever you by!
              We must fyrst of the price agre,
              For who some ever shall have me,
                  I promes you fayt[h]fully,
              He shall me fyrst assure
              Of twenty pound londe in joyncture.
<2B>2                 Why, are ye so costely?
              Nay, nay, then ye be not for me
              As prety a woman as ye be
                     an some tyme by
              For moche les wagis and hyre
              As for the season that I desyre
                  To have hyr in company.

              Therefore, yf ye can fynde in youre harte
              To leve all sucche joynter aparte
                  And take me as I am,
              I shall do you as greate a pleasure
                               1 love you oute of mesure,
                  Els I were to blame.
<2Ancilla>2       Ye, but oure housholde shall be full small
              But yf we have somewhat els with all
                  Oure charges for to bere.
<2B>2             Ye, God sende us mery wether.
              I may not wed and thryve all together --
                  I loke not for that gere.

              I shall tell you a marvelous case.
              I knewe twayne marryed in a place

|p
              Dwellyng together in one house,
              And I am sure they were not worth a louse
                  At the begynnynge.
              And or ever the yere were do,
              They were worth an hondred or two
<2Ancilla>2           That was a marvelous thynge

              But yet I can tell the a gretter marvayle,
              And I knewe the persons ryght well:
              Syr, I knewe two certayne,
              That when they were wedded, they had in store
              Scarce halfe a bed and no more
                  That was worth an hawe,
              And within a yere or twayne
              They had so greate encrease and gayne
              That at the last they were fayne
                  To shove theyre hedes in the strawe!
<2B>2             Tusshe, ye do but mocke and r
              And I promesse you withouten fayle
                  Yf ye lyste to have me,
              I woot where is an hundred pound in store
              And 1 ow never a grot therfore.
<2Ancilla>2           All that may be --

              I beleve hyt evyn as ye say.
              But ye tary me here all day,
                  I pray you let me goo.
              And for my mariage, that is a thing
              In the whyche I purpose to geve a sparyng
                  For a yere or two.
<2B>2             A yere or two, quod a? Nay, God forbede.
              lwis, hyt had be tyme fore you to wedde
                  Seven or eight yere agoo.

              And ye wyst how mery a lyfe
              Hyt is to be a wedded wyf,
                  Ye wold chaunge that mynde.
<2Ancilla>2       Ye, so hyt is, as I understonde,
              If a woman have a gode husbonde --
                  But that ys herd to fynde

              Many a man blamyth his wyf parde,
              And she is more to blame than he.
<2B>2             As true as the gospell now say ye,
                  But now tell me one thing.
              Shall I have none other answere but this
              Of my desyre?
<2Ancilla>2                      No syr, iwys,
                  Not at this metyng.

|p
<2B>2             Wyll ye now nede be agoo than?
              Take your leve honestly
                                              <2Et conabitur eam osculari.>2
<2Ancilla>2                                 Se the man!
                   Let me alone, with sorowe.
<2B>2             Mary, so be hyt. But one worde
              I wyll kys the or thou goo.
<2Ancilla>2                                   The devyllis torde.
                   The man is madde I trowe!
<2B>2             So madde I am that nedis I must
              As in this poynt have my lust
                   How so ever I doo.

<2Ancilla>2       Parde, ye may do me that request,
              For why it is but good and honest.
                                              <2Et osculabitur. Intrat A.>2

<2A>2             Now a felychip, I the beseche,
              Set even suche a patche one my breche.
<2B>2             A wyld feyre therone.
<2Ancilla>2                              Goddis mercy, this is he
              That I have sought so.
<2A>2                                     Have ye sought me?
<2Ancilla>2            Ye, that have I do.
              This gentylman can wytnes bere
              That all this owre I have stonde here
                   Sechyng even for you
<2A>2             Have ye two be togeder so longe?
<2Ancilla>2       Ye,  why not?
<2A>2                            Mary, then all is wrong
                   I fere me so now.
<2B>2             Nay, nay, here be to many wytnes
              For to make ony syche besynes
                   As thou wenest, hardely
<2Ancilla>2       Why, what is the mannes thought?
              Suppose ye that I wolde be nowght
                   Yf no man were by?
<2[A]>2           Nay, for God, y ment not so,
              But I wolde no man sholde have to do
                   With you but onely I.

<2Ancilla>2       Have to do, quod a? What call ye that?
              Hyt sowndyth to a thing I wote ner what!
<2[A]>2                Ey, Godes mercy
              I se well a man must be warre
              How he spekyth ther as ye ar--
                   Ye take it so straungely!

|p
             Nay, 1 mene nothyng but well,
             For by my wyll no man shall dele
                  With you in way of maryage
             But onely I -- this wyse I ment.
<2Ancilla>2      Ye,  but though it were youre entent,
                  Yet ye do but rage

             To use suche wordes unto me,
             For I am yet at my lyberte.
                  Ye, that I know well
             But never the lesse, sythen I beganne
             To love you longe before this man,
                  I have veray greate mervell
             That ever ye wolde his mynde fulfyll
             To stonde and talke with hym styll
                  So long as ye have do.
<2B>2            Before me, quod a? Nay, I make avowe,
             I mevyde this matter long byfore you:
                  How sey ye therto?

<2Ancilla>2      I wyll no thinge in the matter say
             Lest I cause you to make a fray,
                  For thereof I wolde be lothe.
<2A>2            By cokkis body, butt who so ever it be
             That weddythe her bysydes me,
                  I shall make hym wrothe
             Ye, but he that is so hasty at every worde,
             For a medsyn must ete his wyves torde.
<2Ancilla>2           Holde your tongis there I say,
             For and ye make this warke for me,
             Ye shall bothe dyspoyntyd be
                  As fare as I may.

<2A>2            By my trouthe, but marke me well-
             Yf ever thou with this man dwell
                  As a woman with here make,
             Thou shalt fynde hym the most froward man
             That ever thou sawiste sythe the worlde bygan
                  For I dare undertake

             That forty tymes on a day
             Withoute ony cause he wyll the afray
                  And bete the bake and syde
<2Ancilla>2      He shall not nede so to do,
             For he shall have forty causes and forty too
                  Yf I with hym abyde.

|p
<2A>2            Mary, that ys a remedy accordynge.
             But I can tell the an other thynge,
                  And it is no lye:
             Thow maist well be hys weddyd wyf,
             But he wyll never love the in his lyf!
<2Ancilla>2           Yet I know a remedy.

<2A>2            Howso?
<2Ancilla>2                Mary, I wyll love hym as lytyll agayne.
             For  every shrewed turne he shall have twayne
                  And he were my brother.
<2B>2            Iwys, Jone, he spekythe but of males
              There ys no man hens to Cales,
                  Who so ever be the tother,

              That can hym selfe better applye
              To please a woman better then I
<2Ancilla>2           Ye, so I harde you say.
             But yet, be ye never so wrothe,
             There ys never one of you bothe,
                  For all youre wordes gay,
             That shalbe assured of me
             Tyll I may fyrst here and se
                  What ye bothe can do
             And he that can do most maystry,
             Be it in cokery or in pastry,
             In fettis of warre or dedys of chevalry,
                  With hym wyll I go!

<2A>2            By my trowthe, that lykythe me well.
             Ther is no maystry that a man can tell
                  But I am mete thereto,
             Wherefor that wagere I dare well undertake.
             Lett me se, wylt thou go coyt for thy ladis sake,
                  Or what thyng shall we do?

<2B>2            Nay, yf thou wylt her with maystry wynne,
             With boyes game thou mayst not begyn --
                  That is not her intent.
<2A>2            What is best that we do than?
<2B>2            Mary, canst thou syrig?
<2A>2                                     Ye, that I can,
                  As well as ony man in Kent.

|p
<2B>2             What maner of song shall it be?
<2A>2             What so ever thou wylt chose the,
                  I holde me well content.
              And yf I mete the not at the close,
              Hardely let me the wager lose
                  By her owne jugement.
              Go to now, wyll ye set in?
<2B>2             Nay, be the rode, ye shall begyn.
<2A>2                 By Seynt Jame, I assent.

              Abyde, Jone: ye can gode skyll,
              And if ye wolde the song fulfyll
                  With a thyrd parte,
              It wolde do ryght well, in my mynde.
<2Ancilla>2       Synge on, hardely, and I wyll not be behynde,
                  I pray the with all my hert.

                                              <2Et tunc cantabunt.>2
<2B>2             I am so whorse, it wyll not be
<2A>2             Horse, quod a? Nay, so mot I the,
                  That was not the thynge
              And a man sholde the trowth saye
              Ye lost a crochet or two by the waye,
                  To myne understondynge.

<2B>2             Why, was I a mynyme before?
<2A>2             Ye be the rode, that ye were and more.
<2B>2                 Then were ye a mynyme behynde
              Let me se, yet syng agayne,
              And marke whyche of us twayne
                  Plesyth best your mynde.
<2Ancilla>2       Nay, nay, ye shall this matter try
              By some other maner of mastry
                  Than by your syngynge.
<2B>2             Let hym assay what mastry he wull.
<2A>2             Mary, and my bely were not so full
              I wolde wrestell with hym a fayre pull --
                  That were a game accordynge

              For suche valyaunt men as we be.
<2B>2             I shrew thyn hert and thou spare me

                                              <2Et deinde luctabuntur.>2
                                              <2[A is thrown.]>2

<2Ancilla>2       Nay, by my fayth, that was no fall.
<2B>2             A, than I se well ye be parcyall,
                  Whan ye juge so.
              Well, I shall do more for your love!
              Evyn here I cast to hym my glove
                  Or ever I hens goo,

|p
              On the condycion that in the playne fylde
              I shall mete hym with spere and shelde
                  My lyf theron to jeoparde.
              Let me se and he dare take hyt
                                              <2Tunc projiciet cirothecam>2
<2A>2             Yes hardely, I wyll not forsake hyt.
                  I am not suche a coward

              But I dare mete the at all assays --
              Whan shall hyt be do?
<2B>2                                    Evyn streyght ways
                  Withoute furthere delay,
              And I shrewe his hert that feris
              Eyther with cronall or sharpe speris
                  This bargyn to assay.

<2A>2             And I beshrewe hym for me.
              But abyde, now let me se,
                  Where shall I have a hors?
<2B>2             Nay, we shall nede no horse ne mule,
              But let us just at farte pryke in cule.
<2A>2                 Be Seynt Jame, no forse,

              Evyn so be it. But where is oure gere?
<2B>2             By my fayth, all thing is redy [here]
                  That belongethe therto.
              Com forthe, ye flowre of the frying pane,
              Helpe ye to aray us as well as ye can.
                  And how so ever ye do,
              Se that ye juge indifferently
              Whiche of us twayne hathe the mastry.
<2Ancilla>2           Yes, hardely, that I shall --
              I shall juge after my mynde.
              But see ye hold fast behynd
                  Lest ye troble us in all.

<2B>2             Tushe, that is the lest care of fiftene.
              And yf I do not, on my game be yt sene!
                  Go to, bynd me fyrst, hardely.
              So, lo, now, geve me my spere,
              And put me a staffe thorow here --
                  Than am I all redy.

<2A>2             Abyde, who shall helpe to harnys me?
<2Ancilla>2       That shall I do, so mott I the,
                  With a ryght gode wyll.
<2A>2             Soft and fayre. Myne arme is sore,
              Ye may not bynd me strayt ther fore.
<2Ancilla>2           Nay, no more I wyll --

|p
              1 wyll not hurte the for twenty pounde.
              Come of now, syt downe on the grounde
                  Evyn upon thy tayle.
<2A>2             Ey, gode Lorde, whan wyll ye have do?
<2Ancilla>2       Now all is redy hardely, go to
                  Bydde hym bayle, bayle.

<2A>2             Fall to prayer, syrs, it is nede,
              As many of you as wolde me Gode spede,
                  For this gere stondyth me uppon.
<2B>2             Ye, and that shall thou fynde or we departe,
              And yf thou spaie me I shrow thy harte
                  Let me se, com on.
                                              <2Et Projectus dicat A.>2

<2A>2             Out, out, alas for payne.
              Jet me have a pryst or I be slayne
                  My syn to dysclose.
<2B>2             And bycause he sayth so, it is nede,
              For he is not in clene lyfe in dede.
                  I fele it at my nose--

              Fo. Fo. etc.
              Now ye ar myne, lady
<2Ancilla>2                               Nay, never the more.
<2B>2             No? Why so?
<2Ancilla>2                     For I am taken up before.
<2B>2             Mary, I beshrew your hart therefore.
                  It shold better content me
              That ye had be taken up behynde.
<2Ancilla>2       Nay, nay, ye understond not my mynde
                  ln that poynt
<2B>2                                It may well be,
              But tell me, how ment ye then?
<2Ancilla>2       Mary, I am sure to an other man
                  Whose wyfe I intende to be.

<2B>2             Nay, I trow, by cockis passyon,
              Ye wyll not mocke us of that fascyon --
                  Ye may not, for very shame.
<2Ancilla>2       Shame or not, so shall it be,
              And bycause that fore the love of me
                  Ye two have made this game,
              It shall not be done all in vayne,
              For I wyll rewarde you bothe twayne,
                  And ellis I were to blame.

|p
               Somewhat thereby ye must nedis wyn,
              And therfore to everyche of you wyll I spyn
                   A new peyre of breches!
              Take the that fore thy dole
              And  bycause he is blacke in the hole,
                   He shall have as moche.
                                              <2Et utroque flagellato>2
                                              <2recedit Ancilla.>2
<2A>2             Oute, alas! What woman was this?
<2B>2             It is Lucres mayde.
<2A>2                                  The devyll it is!
                   I pray God a vengeance take her.
              How saist thou, shall she be thy wyfe?
<2B>2             Nay, I had lever she had etyn my knyfe.
                   I utterly forsake her.
                                              <2Intrat Gaius.>2
<2Gayus>2     How, syrs, who hath arayde you thys?
<2A>2         Fals thevys, maister, iwys,
                   And all for your quarell.
<2Gayus>2         What? And this other man too?
<2A>2             Ye,  and ye wolde oure hondes undo,
                   The matter whe shall tell.
<2Gayus>2         Yes, mary, wyll I. Now tell on
                       Who hathe you these wrongis done?
                      Mary, that I shall.
              Cornelyus servantis, whiche is your enmy,
              Espyed me goyng toward Lucres place,
              [                                      ]
              That I coude brynge the matter to passe
              Of that gentyl[wo]man, as your desyre was.
                      yd awayte for me in the way,
              And so they lefte me in this araye.
<2Gayus>2         Ye, but haste thou ony dedely wounde? --
              That is the thinge that feryth my mynde.
<2A>2             I faythe, I was lefte for dede on the grounde,
              And I have a grete garce here byhynde
              Out of the whiche ther commythe suche a wynde
              That f ye holde a candyll therto
                         Hyt wyll blowe it oute -- that wyll hyt do.

|p
<2Gayus>2         Se to hyt be tyme, by myne advyse,
              Lest the wounde fewster within.
<2A>2             Then have I nede of a gode surgyn,
              For hyt is so depe within the skyn
              That ye may put youre nose therin
                  Evyn up to the harde eyes.

              Here is a man that quyt hym as well
              For my defence as ever I see
              He toke suche parte that in the quarell
              His arme was strykyne of by the harde kne,
              And yet he slew of them two or thre.
<2Gayus>2         Be they slayne? Nay, God forbyde.
<2A>2             Yes, so helpe me God, I warande them dede.

              How be it I stonde in grete drede
              That yf ever he come in theyr way
              They wyll kyt of his arme or his hede,
              For so I herde them all thre say.
<2Gayus>2         Whiche? Thay that were slayne?
<2A>2                                              Ye, by this day.
              What nedyth me therfore to lye?
              He herd it hym selfe as well as I

<2Gayus>2         Well then, ye lye both two
                                              <2[Exeat B.]>2
              But now tell me, what hast thou do
                  As touchynge my commaundement
              That I badde the do to Lucres?
              Spakyst thou with her?
<2A>2                                     Ye, syr, dowtles,
                  And this is her intent:

              Sche commaundyth hyr to you by the same tokyn
              That with hyr father she hath spokyn
                  Accordynge to your requeste,
              And so she wyllythe you to be of gode chere,
              Desyrynge you this nyght to appere,
                  Or tomorow at the furthest,
              And she wyll mete you here in this place
              To gyve you a fynall answare in this case
                  Whereto ye shall trust.
<2Gayus>2         That is the thing that I desyre.
              But sayd she so?
<2A>2                              Ye, be thys fyre,
                  I tell you verey juste,

|p
             In so moche that she bad me say
             And warne you that ye shulde purvay
                  For your owne besenes,
             For than it shall determyde be
             Whether Publyus Cornelyus or ye
                  Shall have the preemynence
<2Gayus>2         All that purpose lykythe me well,
              But who shall be here more, canst thou tell?
<2A>2                 Mary, here shall be Fulgens

              And Publius Cornelius hym selfe also,
              With dyverse other many moo
                  Besyde this honorable audyence.
              Wherfore yf ye wyll youre honour save
              And your intent in this matter have,
                  It is best that ye go hens

              For to study and call to mynde
              Suche argumentis as ye can best fynde
                  And make your selfe all prest.
<2Gayus>2         Thy counsell is gode -- be it so,
              And evyn thereafter wyll I do,
                  For I holde it best.
                                             <2Et exeat Gaius et A.>2
                                             <2Intrat B.>2

<2B>2             Goddes body, syr[s], this was a fytt.
              I beshrew the horys hart yett
                  When I thinke theron,
              And yet the strokys be not so sore
              But the shame grevyth me more,
                  Sith that it was done
              Before so many as here be present.
              But and I myght take her,
              By my trowth I shall make her
                  This dede to repent.
                                             <2[Intrat A.]>2

<2A>2             Yet thou were as gode holde thy pease,
              For ther is no remedy doutles --
                     herfore lett itt go.
              It is to us bothe grete foly and shame
              This matter ony more to reherse or name.
<2B>2                 Well than, be it so.

|p
              And yet, because she hathe made me smart
              I trust onys to ryde in her carte
                  Be it shame or no.
              I can not suffre it paciently
              To be rebuked openly
                  And to be mockyd also.
              An other thing grevythe me werst of all:
              I shal be shent, that I shall,
                  Of my mayster too

              Because I have ben so long away
              Oute of his presence.
<2A>2                                   Nay, nay,
              I have harde so muche syth I went hens
              That he had lityll mynd to thyn offens.
<2B>2                 I pray you tell me why.

<2A>2             For as I brought my mayster on hys way
              I harde one of Lucres men say
                  That thy mayster hathe ben
              All this houre at her place,
              And that he his answere hase,
                  This wyse as I mene:

              She hathe appoynted hym to be here
              Sone, in the evynyng aboute suppere,
              An[d] than he shall have a fynall answere
                  What she entendith to do.
              And so than we shal know here intent,
              For as I understond she wyll be content
                  To have one of them too
              But furst she wyll nedis know the certayn
              Whether is the most noble of them twayne --
                  This she sayeth alway.
<2B>2             Why, that is easy to understonde
              Yf she be so wyse as men bere in honde
<2A>2                 Ye, so I hard you say.

              Let me se now, what is your oppynion
              Whether of them is most noble of condycion?
<2B>2                 That can I tell hardely
              He that hathe moste nobles in store,
              Hym call I the most noble ever more,
                  For he is most sett by.

|p
              And I am sure Cornelyus is able
              With his owne goodis to bye a rable
                  Of suche as Gayus is
              And over that, yf noblenes of kynn
              May this womans favour wynn,
                  I am sure he can not mys.

<2A>2             Ye, but come hether sone to the ynde of this plave
              And thou shalt se wherto all that wyll wey --
                  It shall be for thy lernynge.
<2B>2             Ye, cum agayne who wyll for me,
              For I wyll not be here, so mot I the
                  It is a gentylmanly thinge

              That I shulde awayt and com agayne
              For other mennys causes and take suche payne!
              I wyll not do it, I make God avowe.
              Why myght not this matter be endyd nowe?
<2A>2                 Mary, I shall tell the why:
              Lucres and her father may not attende
              At this seson to make an ende --
                  So I hard them say.
              And also it is a curteyse gyse
              For to respyte the matter this wyse
                  That the partyes may

              In the meane tyme advyse them well,
              For eyther of them bothe must tell
                  And shew the best he can
              To force the goodnes of his owne condycion
              Bothe by example and gode reason.
                  I wold not for a swan

              That thou sholdest be hens at that season,
              For thou shalt here a reyal disputacyon
                  Bitwext them or thay have do.
              An other thing must be considred with all:
              These folke that sitt here in the halle
                  May not attende theretoo
              Whe may not with oure long play
              Lett them fro theyre dyner all day --
                  Thay have not fully dyned
              For and this play where ones overe past,
              Some of them wolde falle to fedyng as fast
                  As thay had bene almost pyned.

|p
              But no forse, hardely, and they do.
              Ussher, gete them goode wyne therto,
                   Fyll them of the best.
              Let it be do or ye wyll be shent,
              For it is the wyll and commaundement
                   Of the master of the fest.

              And therfore we shall the matter forbere
              And make a poynt evyn here
                   Lest we excede a mesure,
              And we shall do oure labour and trewe entent
              For to play the remenant
                   At my lordis pleasure.

                              <2Finis prime partis.>2


                              <2[The Second Part]                                                   >2

                                              <2Intrat A dicens.:>2

<2A>2             Muche gode do it you everycheone --
              Ye wyll not beleve how fast I have gone
                   For fere that I sholde come to late.
              No forse, I have lost but a lytyll swete
              That I have taken upon this hete
                   My colde corage to abate.

              But now to the matter that I cam fore:
              Ye know the cause therof before --
                   Your wittis be not so short.
              Perde, my felowys and I were here
              Today whan ye where at dyner,
                   And shewed you a lytyll disport

              Of one Fulgens and his doughter Lucres,
              And of two men that made grett besynes
                   Her husbonde for to be.
              She answered to them bothe than:
              Loke whiche was the more noble man,
                   To hym she wolde agre

              This was the substance of the play
              That was shewed here today,
                   All be it that there was
              Dyvers toyes mengled yn the same
              To styre folke to myrthe and game
                   And to do them solace,

|p
The  whiche tryfyllis be impertinent
     To the matter principall,
But never the lesse they be expedient
For to satisfye and content
     Many a man with all.

For some there be that lokis and gapys
Only for suche tryfles and japys,
     And some there be amonge
That forceth lytyll of suche madnes,
But delytyth them in matter of sadnes
     Be it never so longe.

And every man must have hys mynde,
Ellis thay will many fautys fynde
     And say the play was nought.
But no force, I car not,
Let them say and spare not,
     For God knoweth my thought.

It is the mynde and intent
Of me and my company to content
     The leste that stondyth here,
And so I trust ye wyll it alowe.
Ey,  Godis mercy, where am I now?
     It were almys to wrynge me by the eare
Bycause I make suche degression
From the matter that I began
     Whan I entred the halle
For had I made a gode contynuaunce,
I sholde have put you in remembraunce
     And to your myndis call

How Lucres wyll come hyder agayne,
And her sayde lovers bothe twayne,
           dyffyne thys question:
Whether of them ys the more noble man.
For theron all this matter began
     It is the chefe foundacyon
Of all thys proces both all and some,
And yf thes players were ons come,
     Of this matter will they speke.
I mervell gretely in my mynde
That thay tary so long behynde
     Theyre howre for to breke.

|p
               But what, syrs I pray you everychone
               Have pacyens, for thay come anone.
                   I am sure they wyll not fayle
               But thay wyll mete in this place
               As theyre promys and apoyntment wase,
                   And ellis I have merveyle.

               Jet me se, what is now acloke?
                                              <2[Knocking at the door ]>2
               A, there commyth one--I here hym knoke.
                   He knokythe as he were wood.
               One of you go loke who it is.

                                              <2[Intrat B ]>2

<2B>2              Nay, nay, all the meyny of them iwis
                   Can not so moche gode.
               A man may rappe tyll his naylis ake
               Or ony of them wyll the labour take
                   To gyve hym an answere.
<2A>2              I have grete marvell on the
               That ever thou wylt take upon the
                   To chyde ony man here.

               No man is so moche to blame as thow
               For longe taryinge.
<2B>2                                 Ye, God avow,
                   Wyll ye play me that?
               Mary, that shall be amended anone:
               I am late comen and I wyll sone be gone,
                   Ellis I shrew my catt.

               Kockis body, syr, it is a fayre resone.
               I am com hedyr att this season
                   Only at thy byddynge,
               And now thou makyst to me a quarell
               As though all the matter were in parell
                   By my longe taryynge

               Now God be with you, so mote I the,
               Ye shall play the knave alone for me.
                                              <2[B offers to leave.]>2
<2A>2                  What? I am afrayde,
               Iwis, ye are but lewyde.
               Turne agayne, all beshrewyde --
                   Now are you fayre prayde!

|p
<2B>2              Why than, is your angyr all do?
<2A>2              Ye, mary, is it, lo.
<2B>2                                 So is myne too--
                   I have done clene.
               But now how goyth this matter forth
               Of this mariage?
<2A>2                               By Saynt Jame, ryght nought worth.
                   I wot nere what thay meane,

              For I can none other wise thinke
              But that some of them begyn to shrinke
                   Bycause of ther longe tariage.
<2B>2              Shrynke now, quod a? Mary, that were mervele.
               But one thinge of surete I can the tell
                   As touchynge this mariage:
               Cornelius my tnayster apoyntyth hym therupone,
               And dowtles he wyll be here anone,
                   In payne of forty pens,
               In so muche that he hath devysyde
               Certayne straungers fresshly disgisyd
                   Att his owne exspens

               For to be here this nyght also.
<2A>2              Straungers, quod a? What to do?
<2B>2                  Mary, for to glade with all
               This gentylwoman at her hedyr comynge.
<2A>2              A, then I se well we shall have a mummynge!
<2B>2                  Ye, surely, that we shall.
               And therfor never thinke it in thy mynde
               That my mayster wyll be behynde
                   Nor slacke at this bargyn.
               Mary, here he commyth, I have hym aspyde.
               No more wordis, stonde thou asyde,
                   For it is he playne.

                                              <2[A goes out. Cornelius>2
                                              <2enters in the costume of>2
                                              <2a gallant.]>2

<2Cornelius>2      My frynde, where abowt goist thou all day?
<2B>2              Mary syr, I came heder to asay
                   Whedyr these folke had ben here.

               And yet thay be not come,
               So helpe me God and holydome --
               Of that I have moche marvaile,
               That thay tary so.
<2Comelius>2           Mary, go thi way
               And wit where thay wyll or no!
<2B>2              Ye, God avow, shall I so.
<2Cornelius>2          Ye, mary, so I say.

|p
<2B>2              Yet in that poynt, as semyth me,
               Ye do not accordynge to your degre.
<2Cornelius>2          I pray the, tell me why?
<2B>2              Mary, it wolde becom them well inow
               To be here afore and to wayte upon you,
                   And not you to tary

               For theyr laysyr and abyde them here
               As it were one that were ledde by the eare --
                   For that I defy
               By this mene you sholde be theyr druge,
                   I tell you trought, I.

               And yet the worst that greveth me
               Is that your adversary sholde in you se
                   So notable a foly --
               Therfore wit[h]draw you for a seasone.
<2Cornelius>2      By Seynt Johan, thou sayst but reasone.
<2B>2                  Ye, do so hardely,

              And whan the tyme drawith upon
              That thay be com everychone
                   And all thinge redy,
              Than shall I come streyght away
              For to seche you withoute delay.
<2Cornelius>2          Be it so, hardely.

              But one thinge whyle I thinke therone,
              Remember this when I am gone.
                   Yef hit happon so
              That Lucres come in fyrst alone,
              Go in hand with her anone,
                   How so ever thou do,
              For to fele her mynde toward me,
              And by all meanis possyble to be,
                   Induce her therunto.
<2B>2              Than some token you must gyve me,
               For ellis she wyll not beleve me
                   That I cam from you.
<2Cornelius>2      Mary, that is evyn wysely spoken.
               Commaunde me to her by the same token --
                   She knowyth it well inow --

               That as she and I walkyde onis togedyr
               In her garden hedyr and thedyr,
                   There happonde a straunge case.
               For at the last we dyd se
               A byrd sittynge on a holow tre --
                   An ashe I trow it was.
               Anone she prayde me for to assay
               Yf I coude start the byrde away
<2B>2                  And dyde ye so? Alas, alas.

|p
<2Cornelius>2     Why the devyll sayst thou so?
<2B>2             By cokkis bonis, for it was a kocko.
                  And men say amonge,
              He that throwyth stone or stycke
              At suche a byrde, he is lycke
                  To synge that byrdes songe.

<2Cornelius>2     What the devyll recke I therfore?
              Here what I say to the ever more,
                  And marke thine erand well:
              Syr, I had no stone to throw with all,
              And therfore she toke me her musc ball,
                  And thus it befell:

              I kyst it as strayght as ony pole,
              So that it lyghtyde evyn in the hole
                  Of the holow ashe.
              Now, canst thou remember all this?
<2B>2             By God, I wolde be loth to do amys,
                  For some tyme I am full rashe

              Ye say that ye kyst it evyn in the hole
              Of the holow ashe as strayte as a pole --
                  Sayde ye not so?
<2Cornelius>2     Yes.
<2B>2                 Well then, let me alone.
              As for this erande, it shall be done
                  As sone as ye be go.
<2Cornelius>2     Fare well then, I leve the here,
              And remembyr well all this gere
                  How so ever thou do.

                                              <2Et exeat Cornelius.>2

<2B>2             Yes hardely, this erande shall be spoken.
              But how say you, syrs, by this tokene?
                  Is it not a quaynt thinge?
              I went he hade bene a sad man,
              But I se well he is a made man
                  In this message doynge.

              But what? Chose he for me,
              I am but as a messanger perde --
                  The blame shall not be myne but his,
              For I wyll his token reporte
              Whether she take it in ernest or sporte --
                  I wyll not thcrof mys.
              Be she wroth or well apayde,
              I wyll tell her evyn as he sayde.
                                              <2Intrat Lucres.>2

|p
                  God avow, here she is.
              It is tyme for me to be wyse.
              Now welcome lady, floure of prise:
              I have sought you twyse or thryse
                  Wythin this houre iwys.

<2Lucres>2        Me syr? Have ye sought me?
<2B>2             Ye, that I have by God that bowght me.
<2Lucres>2            To what intent?
<2B>2             Mary, for I have thingis a few
              The which I must to you shew
                  By my maysters commaundement.

              Publius Cornelius is hys name,
              Your veray lover, in payne of shame,
              And yf ye love hym not ye be to blame.
                  For this dare I say,
              And on a boke make it gode:
              He lovyd you better than his one hart blode.
<2Lucres>2            Hys harde bloode? Nay, nay,

              Half that love wolde serve for me.
<2B>2             Yet sithe he dyde you fyrst se
                  In the place where he dwellis,
              He had lovyd you so in hys hart
              That he settyth not by hym self a fart,
                  Nor by noo man ellis.
              And bycause ye shulde gyve credence
              Unto my sayng in hys absence
                  And trust to that I say,
              He tolde me tokyns two or thre
              Whiche I know well as he tolde me.
<2Lucres>2            Tokyns? What be thay?

<2B>2             Let me se -- now I had nede to be wyse,
              For one of his tokyns is very nyse
                  As ever I harde tell
              He prayd you for to beleve me
              By the same tokyn that ye and he
              Walkyd togeder by a holow tre
<2Lucres>2            All that I know well.

<2B>2             A, than I am yet in the ryght way.
              But I have som other thyng to say
                  Towchyng my credence
              Whiche as I thynke were best to be spared,
              For happely ye wold not have it declared
                  Byfore all this audience.

|p
<2Lucres>2       Nay, nay, hardely, spare not-
             As for my dedis, I care not
                  Yf all the worlde it harde.
<2B>2            Mary, than shall I procede.
             He shewde me also in very dede
                  How ther satt a byrde,
             And than ye delyveryd hym your muskball
             For to throw at the byrd with all,
             And than as he sayd, ye dyd no wors
             But evyn fayr kyst hym on the noke of the ars.
<2Lucres>2       Nay, ther thow lyest falsely, by my fay!
<2B>2            Trouth, it was on the hole of thars I shulde say --
             I wyst well it was one of the too,
             The noke or the hole.
<2Lucres>2                              Nay, nor yet so
<2B>2            By my fayth, ye kyst hym or he kyst you
             On the hole of thars, chose you now --
             This he tolde me sure.
             How be it, I speke it not in reprove,
             For it was done but for gode love
                  And for no synfull pleasure.
<2Lucres>2       May, nay, man, thow art farr amys!
             I know what thyn erande is,
                    hough thow be neclygent.
             Of thy foly thou mayst well abasshe,
             For thou shuldis have sayde the holow asshe:
                  That hole thy mayster ment.
<2B>2            By God avow, I trow it was.
             I crye you mercy, I have done you trespas.
             But I pray you take it in pacyence,
             For I mystoke it by necligence.
                  A myscheef com theron
             He myght have sent you this gere in a letter.
             But I shall go lerne myn erande better,
                  And cum ayen anon.
                                             <2Et exeat.>2
<2Lucres>2       Ye,  so do hardely.
                            his was a lewed message
             As ever I harde sith I was bore
             And yf his mayster have therof knowlege
             He wyll be angry with hym therfore.
             How be it, I will speke therof no more,
             For hyt hath ben my condiscyon alwey
             No man to hender but to helpe where I may.
                                             <2Intrat A.>2

|p
<2A>2             Feyr maysters, lyketh it you to know
              That my mayster commaunde me to you.
<2Lucres>2        Commaundeth you to me?
<2A>2                                       Nay,  commaundeth you to hym!
<2Lucres>2        Wele amendyd, by Saynt Sym.

<2A>2             Commaundeth he to you, I wolde say,
              Or ellis you to he-- now chose ye may
              Whether lyketh you better!
              And here he sendyth you a letter.

              Godis mercy, I had it ryght now!
              Syrs, is there none there among you
                  That toke up suche a wrytyng?
              I pray you, syrs, let me have it agayne!
<2Lucres>2        Ye ar a gode messanger for certeyne.
                  But I pray you, syr, of one thyng:

              Who is your mayster? -- tell me that.
<2A>2             Maister what call ye hym. Parde, ye wott
                  Whome I mene well and fyne.
<2Lucres>2        Yet I know not, so mot I go
<2A>2             What? Yes, parde, he that wolde have you so.
<2Lucres>2        I suppose there be many of tho
                  Yf I wolde enclyne!

              But yet know I not who ye mene.
              I holde best that ye go ageyene
                  To lerne your maysters name.
<2A>2             By my fayth, and I holde it best.
              Ye may say I am a homely gest
                  In ernest and in game.
<2Lucres>2        Abyde, I shall go to you nerehonde:
              What ys your owne name, I wolde understonde?
                  Tell me that or I go.
              I trow thou canst not well tell.
<2A>2             By my fayth, not verely well,
                  Bycause ye say so.

                                              <2Et scalpens caput post>2
                                              <2modicum intevallum dicat:>2
              By this lyght, I have forgoten!
              How be it, by that tyme I have spoken
                  With som of my company,
              I shall be acerteyned of this gere.
              But shall I fynde you agayne here?
<2Lucres>2            Ye, that thow shalt, happely.

                                              <2Et exeat A. [Et intrat>2
                                              <2Cornelius.]>2

|p
<2Cornelius>2      Now fayr Lucres, accordyng to thappoyntement
              That ye made with me here this day,
              Bycause ye shall not fynde me there neclygent,
              Here I am come your wyll to obey,
              And redy am I for my selfe to sey
              That, as towchyng the degre of noble condycion,
              Betwyxt me and Gayus there may be no comparison.
              And that shall I shew you by apparent reason
              Yf it shall lyke you that I now begynne.
<2Lucres>2         Nay, ye shall spare it for a lytyll season
               Tyl suche tyme that Gayus your adversary corne in,
               For I wyll gyve you therin none audience
               Tyll ye be both toge[d]er in presence.

               And in ony wyse, kepe well your patience
               Lyke as I have bound you both to the peace
               I forbyde you utterly all maner of violence
               Durynge this matter, and also that ye seace
               Of all suche wordis as may gyve occasion
               Of brallynge or other ongodely condycion.
<2Cornelius>2      There shal be in me no suche abusyon
               In worde nor dede, I you promyse.
                                              <2[Intrat B ]>2
               But now let me se what occupation
                    Of what maner of passe tyme wyll ye devyse
               Whyle that these folke dothe tary this wyse?
               Wyll ye see a bace daunce after the gyse
               Of Spayne whyle ye have no thynge to do?
               All thynge have I purvaide that belongyth therto.

<2Lucres>2         Syr, I shall gyve you the lokynge on.
<2Cornelius>2      Wyll ye do so? I aske no more
               Go sone and bidde them come thens anone,
               And cause the mynystrellis to come in beffore.
                                              <2[B fetches the minstrels.]>2
<2B>2              Mary, as foi one of them, his lippe is sore --
               I trow he may not pype, he is so syke.
               Spele up tamboryne, ik bide owe frelike

                                              <2[The dancers come in ] Et>2
                                              <2deinde corisabunt>2
<2Lucres>2         Forsothe, this was a godely recreacyon.
               But I pray you, of what maner nation
                    Be these godely creatours?
               Were they of Englonde or of Wales?
<2B>2              Nay, they be wylde Irissh Portyngales
                    That dyde all these pleasures.

|p
              How be it, it was for my maysters sake,
              And he wyll deserve it, I undertake,
                   On the largest wyse.
<2Cornelius>2     Go thy selfe -- why stondis thou so? --
              And make them chere. Let it be do
                   The best thou canst devyse.

<2B>2             Yes, they shall have chere hevyn hye.
              But  one thing I promyse you faithfully --
                   They get no drynke therto.

                                              <2Exeat [with dancers and>2
                                              <2minstrels. Gayus comes in.]>2
                                              <2Dicut Lucres.>2

<2Lucres>2        Lo, here thys man ys come now --
              Now may ye in your matter procede
              Ye remembre both what I sayde to you
              Touchynge myne answere -- I trow it is no nede
              Ony more to reherse it
<2Cornelius>2                              No, in veray dede,
              For moche rehersall wolde let the spede
              Of all this matter -- it nedyth no more
              Let us roundely to the matter we come for.

<2Lucres>2        Ye,  that I pray you as hartly as I can.
              But fyrst me semyth it were expedient
              That ye both name some indifferent man
              For to gyve betwyxt you the forseyde jugement.
<2Cornelius>2     Nay, as for that, by myne assent,
              No man shall have that office but ye.
<2Gayus>2         And I holde me well content that it so be

<2Lucres>2        Ye, but not wythstondyng that ye therto agre
              That I sholde this question of nobles diffine,
              It is a grete matter whiche, as semyth me,
              Pertayneth to a philosopher or ellis a devyne.
              How be it, sith the choyse of this matter is myne,
              I can be content, under certayne protestacyon,
              Whan that I have harde you, to say myne opinion.
              Lo, this wyse I mene and thus I do intende:
              That what so ever sentence I gyve betwyxt you two
              After myne owne fantasie, it shall not extende
              To ony other person. I wyll that it be so,
              For why no man ellis hath theryn ado
              It may not be notyde for a generall precedent,
              All be it that for your partis ye do therto assent.

|p
<2Gayus>2         As touchyng that poynt we holde us well content --
              Your sentence shall touche no man but us twayne.
              And sith ye shall gyve it by our owne agrement,
              None other man ought to have thereat disdayne.
              Wherfor all thys dout ye may well refrayne,
              And in that matter principall this tyme wolde be spent.
<2Cornelius>2     Than wyll I begynne.
<2Gayus>2                                I holde me well content.

<2Cornelius>2     Syth ye have promysed, fayre Lucres, heretofore
              That to the more noble man ye wyll enclyne,
              Vary not fro that ~orde and I aske no more,
              For than shall the victory of this cause be myne,
              As it shalbe easy to jugge and diffyne.
              For every creature that ony reason hase
              Me semyth I durst make hym self jugge in this case,
              Save that I fere me the beaute of your face
              Sholde therin blynde hym so that he ne myght
              Egally disserne the wronge fro the right.
              And if he were half so wyse a man in dede
              As he reputeth hym self for to be,
              Upon your saide answere he sholde not nede
              To gaynesay in this matter or travers with me.
              My noblenes is knowen thorow all the cyte --
              He knoweth hym selfe the noblenes of my kyn --
              And at that one poynt my proces I wyll begyne.
              Amonge all thistoryes of Romaynes that ye rede,
              Where fynde ye ony blode of so gret noblenes
              As hath ben the Cornelys wherof I am brede?
              And if so be that I wolde therin holde my pease,
              Yet all your cornecles beryth gode witnes
              That my progenytours and auncetours have be
              The chefe ayde and diffence of this noble cyte
              How ofte have myne auncetours in tymes of necessite
              Delyverd this cyte from dedely parell
              As well by theyr manhode as by theyr police?
              What jeopardi and paine they have suffred in the quarell
              Thempire to encrece and for the comune wele
              It nedith not the specialties to reherse or name
              Sith every trew Romaine knoweth the same.
              In every mannys howse that histories be rife
              And wrytten in bookis, as in some placis be
              The gestis of Arthur, or of Alexandyrs life,
              In the whiche stories ye may evidently se
              And rede how Cartage, that royall cyte,
              By Cipion of Affrick, my grete graunte-sire,
              Subduede was and also ascribede to his empire.

|p
And many other cyties that dyde conspire
Ayenst the noble senatoure makynge resistence,
As often as necessite did it require
They were reducyd unto due obedience
Eyther by the policy or by the violence
Of my sayde aunceters: thistories be playne
And witnesse that I speke not these wordis in vayne

My blode hath ever takyn suche payne
To salve garde the comune wele fro ruyn and decay,
That by one advyse the Cenat dyde ordeyne
Them to be namyd the faders of the contray,
And so were myne auctours reputed alway,
For in every nede they dyde upon them call
For helpe as the chylde doth on the fader naturall.

How be it, to praye them it was no nede at all,
For of their owne myndis they were redy alway.
In tokyn of the same, for a memoriall
Of theyr desertis the cytie dyde edifye
Triumphall arches, wheruppon ye may
To my grete honour se at this day
Thymages of myn auncetours evyn by and by
Bycause that theyr noblenes sholde never dye.

In token also that they were worthy
Grete honour and prayse of all the contray,
It is commaunded and used generally
That every cytezen that passith that way
By the sayde images, he must obey
And to that fygures make a due reverence,
And ellis to the lawes he dothe grete offence.

Sith it is so than that of convenience
Suche honoure and homage must nedis be do
To these dede ymagis, than muche more reverence
To me sholde be gevyn -- I trow ye thinke so --,
For I am theyr very ymage and relyque to
Of theyr flesch and blode, and veray inherytoure
As well of theyr godes as of theyr sayde honoure.
To me they have left many a castell and toure
Whiche in theyr triumphes thay rightfully wan.
To me they have also left all theyr tresoure
In suche abundaunce that I trow no man
Within all Rome, sith it fyrst began,
Had half the store as I understonde
That I have evyn now at ons in my honde.

|p
              Lo, in these thyngis my noblenes doth stonde,
              Whiche in myne oppynyon suffiseth for this intent
              And I trow there is no man throwgh all this londe
              Of Italy, but if he were here present
              He wolde to my sayng in this matter assent
              And gyve unto me the honoure and preeminence
              Rather than make agayne me resistence.
              I marvayle gretly what shulde thy mynde insence
              To thinke that thy tytle therin sholde be gode.
              Parde, thow canst not say for thy deffence
              That ever there was gentilman of thy kyn or blode
              And if there were oone, it wolde be understode
              Without it be thy self, whiche now of late
              Among noble gentylmen playest check mate

<2Lucres>2        No more therof, I pray you Suche wordis I hate,
              And I dyde forbid you them at the begynnyng
              To eschue thoccasyon of stryfe and debate.
<2Gayus>2         Nay, let hym alone -- he spekyth after his lernyng
              For I shall answer hym to every thyng
              Whan he hath all said, if ye woll here me,
              As I thinke ye wyll of your equyte
<2Cornelius>2     Abide, I must make an ende fyrst, parde.
              To you, swete Lucres, I wolde have said beffore
              That yf ye wyll to my desyre in this matter agre,
              Doubtles ye shall blesse the tyme that ever ye were bore,
              For riches shall ye have at your will ever more
                     Without care or study of laboriouse besynes,
              And spend all your dayes in ease and plesaunt idelnesse.
              About your owne apparell ye can do non excesse
              In my company that sholde displese my mynd
              With me shall ye do non other maner of besynes
              But hunt for your solace at the hart and hynde,
              And some tyme where we convenient game fynde
              Oure hawkis shal be redy to shew you a flight
              Whiche shal be right plesaunt and chereful to your sight.
              And yf so be that in huntyng ye have no delyght,
              Than may ye daunce a whyle for your disport.
              Ye shall have at your pleasure both day and night
              All maner of mynstralsy to do you comfort
              Do what thyng ye wyll, I have to support
              Our chargis, and over that I may susteyne
              At myne owne fyndyng an hundred or twayne.

|p
And as for hym, I am certayn
Hys auncetours were of full poore degre,
All be it that now withyn a yere or twayne,
Bycause that he wold a gentilman be,
He hath hym goten both office and fee,
Whiche after the rate of hys wrechyd sparyng
Suffiseth scarsely for hys bare lyvynge.

Wherfore swete Lucres, it were not accordyng
For your grete beaute with hym to dwell,
For there sholde ye have a threde bare lyvynge
With wrechyd scarcenes, and I have herde tell
That maydens of your age love not ryght well
Suche maner of husbondis, without it be thay
That forceth lytyll to cast them self away.

I mene specyally for suche of theru as ruay
Spede better if they wyll, as ye be yn the case.
And therfore Lucres, what so ever he wyll say
Hys title agaynst you to force and embrace,
Ye shall do your owen selfe to grete a trespas
Yf ye folow hys part and enclyne therto.
Now say what ye wyll, syr, for I have all doo.

<2Gayus>2 With ryght gode will I shall go to,
So that ye will here me with as grete pacience
As I have harde you -- reason wolde soo.
And what so ever I shall speke in this audience,
Eyther of myn owne meritis or of hys insolence,
Yet fyrst unto you all, syrs, I make this request:
That it wolde lyke you to construe it to the best.

For lothe wolde I be as ony creature
To boste of myne owne dedis -- it was never my gyse.
On that other syde, loth I am to make ony reportur
Of this mans foly or hym to dispice.
But never the lesse this matter towchith me in suche wise
That what so ever ye thinke in me, I must procede
Unto the veray trouth therof as the matter is in dede.
To make a grete rehersall of that ye have saide
The tyme will not suffre, but never the lesse
Two thingis for your self in substaunce ye have layd
Whiche as ye suppose maketh for your nobles,
Upon the whiche thingis dependith all your processe:
Fyrst, of your auncetours ye allege the noble gestis,
Secondly, the substaunce that ye have of theyr bequestis.

|p
 In the whiche thingis onely, by your owne confession,
Standeth all your noblenes -- this sayd ye beffore.
Whereunto this I say under the correction
Of Lucres oure jugge here, that ye ar never the more
Worthy in myne oppynion to be callyd noble therfore,
And withoute ye have better causes to shew than these,
Of reson ye must the victory of this matter lese.
To the fyrst parte as touching your auncetours dedis,
Some of them were noble lyke as ye declare --
Thestoris bereth witnes, I must graunt them nedis.
But yet for all that, some of them ware
Of contrary di[s]posycion like as ye are,
For they dyde no proffite -- no more do ye --
To the comon wele of this noble cytie.
Yf ye wyll the title of noblenes wynne,
Shew what have ye done your self therfore.
Some of your owne meritis let se bryng in,
             Yf ever ye dyde ony syth ye were bore.
But surely ye have no suche thyng in store
Of your owne meritis wherby of right
Ye shulde appere noble to ony mannys sight.
But neverthelesse I wyll you not blame
Thowgh ye speke not of your owne dedis at all.
And to say the trowght, ye may not for shame:
        Your lyfe is so voluptuouse and so bestiall
In folowynge of every lust sensuall
That I marvaille no thynge in my mynde
Yf ye leve your owne dedis behynde.
He wenyth that by hys proude contenaunce
Of worde and dede, with nyse aray,
Hys grete othys, and open mayntenaunce
     Of theftis and murdres every day,
Also hys ryotouse disportis and play,
 Hys sloth, his cowardy, and other excesse,
Hys mynde disposed to all unclennesse --
By these thyngis oonly he shall have noblenesse.
     Nay, the title of noblenes wyll not ensue
A man that is all gevyn to suche insolence,
But it groweth of longe continued vertu,
     rust, lady, that youre indifference
Can well diffyne by your sentence.
   Hys auncetours were not of suche condicion,
But all contrary to hys disposicyon.

|p
And therfore they were noble withouten faile,
And dyde grete honoure to all the contrey.
But what can theyr sayde noblenes advayle
To hym that takyth a contrary way? --
Of whome men spekith every day
So grete dishonoure, that it is marvel
The contrey suffereth hym therin to dwelle.

And where he to-wyteth me of pore kyn,
He doth me therin a wrongfull offence.
For no man shall thankis or praysyng wyn
By the gyftis that he hath of natures influence.
Lyke wyse I thinke by a contrary sense
That if a man be borne blynde or lame,
Not he hym selfe but nature therin is to blame.

Therfor he doth not me therin repreve.
And as for that poynt, this I wott welle,
That both he and I cam of Adam and Eve.
There is no difference that I can tell
Whiche makith oon man an other to excell
So moche as doth vertue and godely maner,
And therin I may well with hym compare

How be it, I speke it not for myne one prayse,
But certeynly this hath ever be my condicion:
I have borne unto God all my daies
His laude and prayse with my due devocion,
And next that I bere allwayes
To all my neyghbours charitable affeccyon.
Incontynency and onclennes I have had in abhominacion,
Lovyng to my frende and faythfull with all,
And ever I have withstonde my lustis sensuall.

One tyme with study my tyme I spende
To eschew idelnes, the causer of syn.
An other tyme my contrey manly I deffend,
And for the victoryes that I have done therin,
Ye have sene your selfe, syr, that I have come in
To this noble cytee twyse or thryse
Crownyd with lawryel as it is the gyse.

By these wayes, lo, I do aryse
Unto grete honoure fro low degre,
And yf myn heires will do likewyse
Thay shal be brought to nobles by me.
But Cornely, it semyth by the
That the nobles of thyn auncetours everycheon
Shall utterly starve and die in the alone.

|p
               And where he to-witeth me on that other syde
               Of small possession and grete scarcenes,
               For all that, lady, if ye will with me abidde
               I shall assure you of moderate richesse,
               And that sufficient for us both doutles.
               Ye shall have also a man accordyng
               To youre owne condicions in every thing
               Now Lucres, I have shewyd unto you a parte
               Of my title that I clayme you by,
               Besechynge you therfore with all my hart
               To considre us both twayne indifferently,
               Whiche of us twayne ye will rather alow
               More worthy for nobles to marry with you
<2Lucres>2         Syrs, I have hard you both at large.
<2Cornelius>2      Nay, abide Lucres, I pray you hertly
               Sithe he leyeth many thynges to my charge,
               Suffre that I may therunto repply.
<2Lucres>2         Iwis, replication shall not be necessary
               Withoute that ye have some other thing in store
               To shew for your self than ye dyde beffore.
<2Cornelius>2      Why lady, what thing will ye desyre more
               Than I have shewyd to make for noblenes?
<2Lucres>2         Yes, som thyng ther ys that makyth therfore
               Better than ye have shewid in your processe
               But now let me se what man of witnes
                           Or what other proves will ye forth bryng
               By the whiche eyther of you may justifie his sayng?

<2Gayus>2      As for my parte, I wyll stonde gladlyf
                To the commune voyce of all the contrey.
<2Lucres>2         And ye lyke wyse syr?
<2Cornelius>2                             Ye certaynly,
               I shall in no wyse your worde dissobey.
<2Lucres>2         Than wyll I betwyxt you both take this way:
               I shall go enquyre as faste as I may
               What the commune fame wyll theryn reporte,
               And whan I have therof a due evidence,
               Than shall I agayne to you resorte
               To shew you thopynyon of my sentence
               Whome I wyll jugge to have the preemynence.
<2Cornelius>2      Nay, fayre Lucres, I you requyre-
               Let me not now depart in vayne
              Not knowyng theffect of my desyre.
<2Lucres>2         Syr, allthough it be to you a payne,
               Yet must ye do so evyn both twayne.
               Eche of you depart hens to hys owne place,
               And take no more labour or payne in this case.

|p
              For as towchyng theffect of my sentence,
              I shall go write it by gode advysement
              Sone after that I am departed fro hens.
              And than to eyther of you both shalbe sent
              A copy of the same, to this intent:
              That of none other person it shall be sayn
              Sith it concerneth but onely unto you twayne.
<2Gayus>2         This is a gode waye as in my mynde.
              Ar not ye, syr, content in lyke wyse?
<2Cornelius>2     I wot nere, yet I wyll prayse as I fynde
              And as I have cause -- that is evyr my gyse
<2Gayus>2         Well Lucres, will ye commaunde me ony servyce?
<2Lucres>2        No servyce at all, syr. Why say ye so?
              Our Lorde spede you both where so ever ye goo.
                                              <2Et exeant Publius>2
                                              <2Cornel[i]us et Gaius>2
                                              <2Flaminius [et A].>2

              Now som mayde, happely, and she were in my case,
              Wolde not take that way that I do intend,
              For I am fully determyned with Godis grace
              So that to Gaius I wyll condyscend,
              For in this case I do hym commend
              As the more noble man, sith he thys wyse
              By meane of hys vertue to honoure doth aryse.

              And for all that, I wyll not dispise
              The blode of Cornelius -- I pray you thinke not so!
              God forbede that ye sholde note me that wyse,
              For truely I shall honoure them where so ever I go,
              And all other that be of lyke blode also.
              But unto the blode I wyll have lytyl respect
              Where the condicyons be synfull and abject.

              I pray you all, syrs, as meny as be here:
              Take not my wordis by a sinistre way.
                                              <2[Intrat B.]>2
<2B>2             Yes, by my trouth, I shall witnes bere,
              Where so ever I be com a nother day,
              How suche a gentylwoman did opynly say
              That by a chorles son she wolde set more
              Than she wolde do by a gentylman bore.

<2Lucres>2        Nay, syr, than ye report me amys
<2B>2             I pray you tell me, how sayd ye than?
<2Lucres>2        For God syr, the substaunce of my wordis was this:
              I say evyn as I saide whan I began,
              That for vertue excellent I will honoure a man
              Rather than for hys blode, if it so fall
              That gentil condicyons agre not with all.

|p
<2B>2             Than I put case that a gentilman bore
              Have godely maners to his birth accordyng.
<2Lucres>2        I say, of hym is to be set gret store:
              Suche one is worthy more lawde and praysyng
              Than many of them that hath their begynnyng
              Of low kynred, ellis God forbede. --
              I wyll not afferme the contrary for my hede,
              For in that case ther may be no comparyson!
              But never the lesse I said this before,
              That a man of excellent vertuouse condicions,
              Allthough he be of a pore stoke bore,
              Yet I wyll honour and commende hym more
              Than one that is descendide of ryght noble kyn
              And therfore I have determyned utterly
              That Gaius Flaminius shall have his intent
              To hym onely I shall my self apply
              To use me in wedloke at his commaundement,
              So that to Cornelyus I wyll never assent
              Allthough he had as grete possession
              As ony one man in Cristen region.
              I shall in no wyse favour or love hys condicyon,
              How be it that his blode requyreth due reverence,
              And that shall I gyve hym with all submyssion --
              But yet shall he never have the preemynence
              To speke of very nobles by my sentence.
              Ye be hys servaunt syr--go your way
              And report to your mayster evyn as I say.
                                               <2[Exeat Lucres.]>2
<2B>2             Shall I do that erand? Nay, let be.
              By the rode, ye shall do it your selfe for me.
                   I promyse you faythfully,
              I wolde my mayster had be in Scotland
              Whan he dyd put this matter in her hand
                   To stond to her jugement.
              But forasmoche as it is so
              That this wrong to hym is doo
              By a woman, he must let it goo
                   And holde hym content.
              But he is of suche disposycion
              That whan he hereth of this conclusion
                   He wylbe starke madd --
              Ye by my trowth, as made as an hare!
              It shall make hym so full of care
              That he wyll with hym self fare
                   Evyn as it were a lade!

|p
              And so wold not I, so mote I thee.
              For this matter, and I were as he,
              It shulde never anger me,
                  But this wold I do
              I wolde let her go in the mare name.
                                              <2[Intrat A.]>2
<2A>2             What now, syrs, how goth the game?
                  What, is this woman go?

<2B>2             Ye, ye, man.
<2A>2                          And what way hathe she takyn?
<2B>2             By my fayth, my mayster is forsakyn,
                  And nedis she wyll agre
              Unto thy mayster -- thus she saieth,
              And many causes therfore she leyeth
                  Why it shulde so be.

<2A>2             I marvayle gretely wherof that grue.
<2B>2             By my fayth, she saide -- I tell the true --
              That she wolde nedis have hym for his vertue
                  And for none other thynge.
<2A>2             Vertue? What the devyll is that?
              And I can tell, I shrew my catt,
                  To myne understondynge

<2B>2             By my fayth, no more can I.
              But this she said here opynly --
                  All these folke can tell.
<2A>2             How say ye, gode women? Is it your gyse
              To chose all your husbondis that wyse?
                  By my trought, than I marvaile!
<2B>2             Nay, this is the fere, so mot I goo.
              T[h]at men chise not theyr wyffis so
                  In placis where I have be.
              For wiffis may well complayne and grone,
              Albe it that cause have they none
                  That I can here or se
              But of weddyd men there be ryght fewe
              That welle not say the best is a shrew --
                  Therin they all agree

              I warne you weddyd men everichone
              That other remede have ye none
                  So moche for your ease,
              And ye wold study tyll tomoro
              But let them evyn alone -- with sorow!
                  Whan they do you displease.

|p
<2A>2             Tusshe, here is no man that settyth a blank
              By thy consell or konneth the thank--
                  Speke therof no more
              They know that remedy better than thow
              But what shall we twayne do now?
                  I care most therfore --

              Me thinketh that matter wolde be wist
<2B>2             Mary, we may goo hens whan we lyst --
                  No man saith us nay.
<2A>2             Why than, is the play all do?
<2B>2             Ye, by my feyth, and we were ons go
                  It were do streght wey.

<2A>2             And I wolde have thought in vere dede
              That this matter sholde have procede
                  To som other conclusion
<2B>2             Ye, thou art a maister mery man. --
              Thou shall be wyse I wot nere whan.
                  Is not the question

              Of noblenes now fully defynde
              As it may be so by a womans mynde?
                  What woldyst thow have more?
              Thow toldest me that other day
              That all the substaunce of this play
                  Was done specially therfor
              Not onely to make folke myrth and game,
              But that suche as be gentilmen of name
                  May be somwhat movyd
              By this example for to eschew
              The wey of vyce and favour vertue;
                  For syn is to be reprovyd

              More in them, for the degre,
              Than in other parsons such as be
                  Of pour kyn and birth.
              This was the cause principall,
              And also for to do with all
                  This company some myrth.

              And though the matter that we have playde
              Be not percase so wele conveyde
                  And with so gret reason
              As thistory it self requyreth,
              Yet the auctour therof desyrith
                  That for this season

|p
At the lest ye will take it in pacience.
And yf ther be ony offence
(Show us wherein or we go hence)
     Done in the same,
It is onely for lacke of connynge,
And not he but his wit runnynge
     Is thereof to blame.
And glade wolde he be and ryght fayne
That some man of stabyll brayne
Wolde take on hym the labour and payne
     This mater to amende --
And so he wyllyd me for to say
And  that done, of all this play
     Shortely here we make an end.


     EMPRYNTED AT LONDON BY JOHAN RASTELL
   DWELLYNGE ON THE SOUTH SYDE OF PAULYS
        CHYRCHE BYSYDE PAULYS CHEYNE.


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