Johns. Ay, marry, sir, there you say something.
Smith. And pray, sir, how have you order'd this same frolic of yours?
Bayes. Faith, sir, by the rule of romance; for example, they divide their things into three, four, five, six, seven, eight, or as many tomes as they please. Now I would very fain know what should hinder me from doing the same with my things, if I please?
Johns. Nay, if you should not be master of your own works, 'tis very hard.
Bayes. That is my sense. And then, sir, this contrivance of mine has something of the reason of a play in it too; for as every one makes you five acts to one play, what do I, but make five plays to one plot: by which means the auditors have every day a new thing.
Johns. Most admirably good, i'faith! and must certainly take, because it is not tedious.
Bayes. Ay, sir, I know that; there's the main point. And then upon Saturday to make a close of all (for I ever begin upon a Monday), I make you, sir, a sixth play that sums up the whole matter to 'em, and all that, for fear they should have forgot it.
Johns. That consideration, Mr. Bayes, indeed I think will be very necessary.
Smith. And when comes in your share, pray, sir?