MEL. I pray you, came this woman here never sin'?[58]
In faith, to enter here I am half adrad;
And yet why so? I may boldly come in:
I am sure from you all I shall not be had.
But, Jesus, Jesus, be these men so mad
On women, as they say? how should it be?
It is but fables and lies, ye may trust me.

_Intret_ CELESTINA.

CEL. God be here!
MEL. Who is there?
CEL. Will ye buy any thread?
MEL. Yea, marry, good mother, I pray you come in.
CEL. Christ save you, fair mistress, and God be your speed;
And health be to you and your kin;
And Mary, God's mother, that blessed virgin,
Preserve and prosper your womanly personage,
And well to enjoy your youth and pucellage!
For that time pleasures are most escheved;[59]
And age is the hospital of all manner sickness,
The resting-place of all thought unrelieved;
The sport of time, past the end of all quickness:
Neighbour to death; a dry stock without sweetness:
Discomfort, disease all age alloweth;
A tree without sap, that small charge boweth.
MEL. I marvel, mother, ye speak so much ill
Of age, that all folk desire effectuously.
CEL. They desire hurt for themselves as all of will;