forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. PLAYER. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. LORD. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time, The rather for I have some sport in hand Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play to-night; But I am doubtful of your modesties, Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour, -- For yet his honour never heard a play, -- You break into some merry passion And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, If you should smile, he grows impatient. PLAYER. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antick in the world. LORD. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. Exit one with the PLAYERS.] Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady; That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, And call him 'madam, ' do him obeisa.