MAID. Nay, good Long-tongue, I pray once again
To hear yet of my mind a word or twain.
MAN. Come off, then: dispatch, and speak it quickly,
For what thing it is thou causest me tarry.
MAID. Of whence is this gentleman that to-morrow is married?
Where doth his father and his mother dwell?
Above forty miles he hath travelled,
As yesternight his servant did tell.
MAN. In very deed he comes a great way,
With my master he may not long abide;
It hath cost him so much on costly array,
That money out of his purse apace doth slide.
They say that his friends be rich and wealthy,
And in the city of London have their dwelling,
But yet of them all he hath no penny
To spend and bestow here at his wedding.
And if it be true that his servant did say,
He hath utterly lost his friends' good-will,
Because he would not their counsel obey,
And in his own country[320] tarry still;
As for this woman, which he shall marry,
At Saint Albans always hath spent her life;
I think she be a shrew, I tell thee plainly,
And full of debate, malice and strife.
MAID. Though I never saw this woman before,
Which hither with him this gentleman brought,
Yet nevertheless I have tokens in store,
To judge of a woman that is forward and naught.
The tip of her nose is as sharp as mine,
Her tongue and her tune[321] is very shrill;
I warrant her she comes of an ungracious kin,
And loveth too much her pleasure and will:
What though she be now so neat and so nice,
And speaketh as gentle as ever I heard:
Yet young men, which be both witty and wise,
Such looks and such words should not regard.
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