Ye may not lacke your instrumentes to play and sing.

R. Royster. Thou knowest I can doe that.

M. Mery. As well as any thing.

Shall I go call your folkes, that ye may shewe a cast?

R. Royster. Yea runne I beseeche thee in all possible haste.

M. Mery. I goe. Exeat.

R. Royster. Yea for I loue singyng out of measure,

It comforteth my spirites and doth me great pleasure.

But who commeth forth yond from my swete hearte Custance?

My matter frameth well, thys is a luckie chaunce.