Mess.
Your Honour's Players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant Comedy;
For so your Doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood;
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment;
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.

Sly.

Marry, I will; let them play; is it not a Commodity? a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?

Lady.

No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.

Sly.

What, houshold stuff?

Lady.

It is a kind of history.

Sly.

Well, we'll see't: come, Madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip, we shall ne'er be younger.

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