_Sly._ By God's slid, if you had, I would have given you but sixpence[330] for your stool. Let them that have stale suits sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laughed out of a tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good company.--Where's Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly? Let me speak with some of them. 14 _Tire-man._ An't please you to go in, sir, you may. _Sly._ I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and can give them intelligence for their action: I have most of the jests here in my table-book. _Enter_ SINKLO.[331] _Sinklo._ Save you, coz! _Sly._ O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here. 21 _Sinklo._ No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me. _Sly._ Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz. _Sinklo._ We stayed for you at supper last night at my cousin Honeymoon's, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by this light, 'twas Mistress Frank Honeymoon's fortune still to have the longest cut: I did measure for the women.--What be these, coz? 32 _Enter_ D. BURBADGE,[332] H. CONDELL, _and_ J. LOWIN. _Sly._ The players.--God save you! _Burbadge._ You are very welcome. _Sly._ I pray you, know this gentleman, my cousin; 'tis Master Doomsday's son, the usurer. _Condell._ I beseech you, sir, be covered. _Sly._ No,[333] in good faith, for mine ease: look you, my hat's the handle to this fan: God's so, what a beast was I, I did not leave my feather at home! Well, but I'll take an order with you. 41 [_Puts his feather in his pocket._ _Burbadge._ Why do you conceal your feather, sir? _Sly._ Why, do you think I'll have jests broken upon me in the play, to be laughed at? this play hath beaten all your gallants out of the feathers: Blackfriars hath almost spoiled Blackfriars for feathers.[334] _Sinklo._ God's so, I thought 'twas for somewhat our gentlewomen at home counselled me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to spoil it. _Sly._ Why, coz? 50 _Sinklo._ Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand, and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it. _Sly._ Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.