[95] Dr. Swoboda, who speaks of the plays from the press of William Rastell as printed by his father (John), was apparently unaware that neither _The Pardoner and the Frere_ nor _Johan Johan_ bears Heywood's name, and takes his authorship of them for granted. [96] It is not contended that the payment was for the performance of _Thersites_, only that it shows that Heywood was a likely man to be called on to produce a play about this period. [97] See notes to ll. 263 and 482. I quote here the end of the French farce in order to give the "wax" episode in full. _Le Cousin._ Or ca cousin iay pense Dung subtil affaire, Dont vous serez riche a iamas. _Pernet._ Riche, cousin? _Le Cousin._ Certes, sire, vous fault chauffer Et faire ung subtil ouuraige, Qui vous gardera de dommaige, Cousin, beau sire. _Pernet._ Me fault il donc chauffer la cire, Tandis que vous banqueterez? Corbieu, ien suis marry, Je croy que ce paste est bon. _Le Cousin._ Chauffez & mettez du charbon Lymaige sera proffittable. _Pernet._ Vous irayge signer la table? Je scay bien le benedicite. _Le Cousin._ Faictes ce que iay recite. Dea! cousin! ne perdez point de temps. _Pernet._ Cest vng trespouure passetemps De chauffer la cire quant on digne! Regardez elle est plus molle que laine, En la chauffant rien naqueste. _Le Cousin._ Conclus & conqueste! Auec la femme ie banqueste, Combien que ie ne soye le sire Et son mary chauffe la cire. The play of the wether [Decoration] A new and a very mery enterlude of all maner wethers made by John Heywood, [Decoration] The players names. Jupiter a god. Mery reporte the vyce. The gentylman. The marchaunt. The ranger. The water myller. The wynde myller. The gentylwoman. The launder. A boy the lest that can play. [Decoration] The Play of the Wether _Jupyter_ A ii RYght farre to longe, as now, were to recyte The auncyent estate wherein our selfe hath reyned, What honour, what laude, gyven us of very ryght, What glory we have had, dewly unfayned, Of eche creature, which dewty hath constrayned; 5 For above all goddes, syns our father's fale, We, Jupiter, were ever pryncypale. If we so have beene, as treuth yt is in dede, Beyond the compas of all comparyson, Who coulde presume to shew, for any mede, 10 So that yt myght appere to humayne reason, The hye renowne we stande in at this season? For, syns that heven and earth were fyrste create, Stode we never in suche tryumphaunt estate