Merry-thought?
Jasp. Nay, good sir, be persuaded, she is my mother. If her offences have been great against you, let your own love remember she is yours, and so forgive her.
Luce. Good Master Merry-thought, let me entreat you, I will not be denied.
Mist. Mer. Why, Master Merry-thought, will you be a vext thing still?
Old Mer. Woman, I take you to my love again, but you shall sing before you enter; therefore despatch your song, and so come in.
Mist. Mer. Well, you must have your will when all's done. Michael, what song canst thou sing, boy?
Mich. I can sing none forsooth but "A Lady's Daughter of Paris," properly.
Mist. Mer. [song.] "It was a lady's daughter," &c.
Old Mer. Come, you're welcome home again.
"If such danger be in playing,