INCLINATION. Do ye hear, fellows? would not my lord make a rare player? oh, he would uphold a company beyond all hope, better than Mason among the king’s players! Did ye mark how extemprically he fell to the matter, and spake Lugginses part almost as it is in the very book set down?
WIT. Peace; do ye know what ye say? my lord a player! let us not meddle with any such matters: yet I may be a little proud that my lord hath answered me in my part. But come, let us go, and be ready to begin the play again.
LUGGINS.
I, that’s the best, for now we lack nothing.
[Enter a Servingman.]
MAN.
Where be these players?
ALL.
Here, sir.
MAN.
My lord is sent for to the court,
And all the guests do after supper part;
And, for he will not trouble you again,
By me for your reward a sends 8 angels,
With many thanks. But sup before you go:
It is his will you should be fairly entreated:
Follow, I pray ye.
WIT.
This, Luggins, is your negligence;
Wanting Wit’s beard brought things into dislike;
For otherwise the play had been all seen,
Where now some curious citizen disgraced it,
And discommending it, all is dismissed.
VICE. Fore God, a says true. But hear ye, sirs: 8 angels, ha! my lord would never give 8 angels more or less for 12d; other it should be 3l, 5l, or ten li.; there’s 20s wanting, sure.
WIT.
Twenty to one, tis so. I have a trick: my lord comes; stand aside.