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.