Mistress Merrythought and her son, Michael, have been travelling
RALPH. Comes not sir squire again?
GEORGE. Right courteous knight,
Your squire doth come, and with him comes the lady,
For and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it.
[Enter Tim, Mistress Merrythought and Michael.]
RALPH. Madam, if any service or devoir
Of a poor errant knight may right your wrongs,
Command it; I am prest to give you succour;
For to that holy end I bear my armour.
MIST. Alas, sir, I am a poor gentlewoman,
and I have lost my money in this forest!
RALPH. Desert, you would say, lady; and not lost
Whilst I have sword and lance. Dry up your tears,
Which ill befit the beauty of that face,
And tell the story, if I may request it,
Of your disastrous fortune.
MIST. Out, alas! I left a thousand pound,
a thousand pound, e'en all the money I had
laid up for this youth, upon
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