CAREAWAY.
Now mercy that I ask of you both twain:
Save my life, and let me not be slain.
I have had beating enough for one day:
That a mischief take the other-me Careaway!
That if ever he come to my hands again,
I-wis it shall be to his pain.
But I marvel greatly, by our Lord Jesus,
How he-I escaped, I-me beat me thus.
And is not he-I an unkind knave,
That woll no more pity on myself have?
Here may you see evidently, i-wis,
That in him-me no drop of honesty is.
Now a vengeance light on such a churlish knave
That no more love toward myself have!
DAME COY.
I knew very,[206] sweet-heart, and said right now,
That no fault thereof should be in you.
BONGRACE.
No, truly, good bedfellow, I were then much unkind,
If you at any time should be out of my mind.
DAME COY.
Surely, I have of you a great treasure,
For you do all things which may be to my pleasure.
BONGRACE.
I am sorry that your chance hath now been so ill:
I would gladly been unsupped, so you had your fill;
But go we in, pigsnie, that you may sup;
You have cause now to thank this same hang-up;
For had not he been, you had fared very well.
DAME COY.
I bequeath him with a hot vengeance to the devil of hell,
And heartily I beseech him that hanged on the rood,
That he never eat nor drink that may do him good,
And that he die a shameful death, saving my charity!
CAREAWAY.
I pray God send him such prosperity,
That hath caused me to have all this business.
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