have a perfect exhibition of the modern circus clown. They proceed to devise some pastime; the Poticary says to the Pedler:

Then tell me thys, are you perfyt in drynkynge?

Pedler. Perfyt in drynkynge, as may be wysht by thynkynge. Poticary. Then after your drynking, how fall ye to wynkynge? Pedler. Syr, after drynkynge, whyh the shot is tynkynge,

Some hedes be swynkynge, but myn will be synkynge,

And upon drynkynge, myn eyse will be pynkynge,

For wynkynge to drynkynge is alway lynkynge.
Poticary. If ye were desired thereto,

I pray you tell me can you synge?

Pedler. Syr, I have som syght in syngynge.

Poticary. But is your brest1 anythynge swete.

Here they fall to discussing the respective merits of their crafts again, till presently the

Poticary. My craft is such that I can ryght well,

Sende my fryndes to heven and myselfe to helle.

. . . But for good order, at a worde,

Twayne of us must wayte on the thyrde

And unto that I do agree

For bothe you twayne shall wayte on me.

Pardoner. Nay, nay, my frende, that will not be:

I am too good to wayte on thee.

And it is only now that the real plot of the play emerges. The four fall to disputing which is the worthiest of them; and in order to determine, they agree to try their skill in

what plays are ready for representa- Dives and Lazarus, Lusty Juventus, tion, the player replies: "Divers, and the Marriage of Wit and Wismy lord; The Cradle of Security, dom." Hit nail o' th' head, Impatient Poverty, The Play of Four P's,

1 Cf. Twelfth Night, "brest."

something in which they are all commonly proficient. It is difficult at first to find this something; but presently the Pedler solves the trouble: he says they are all proficient in lying; and they then agree that he who shall tell the most monstrous falsehood shall be accounted best man. Only compare, in passing, all this low plane with the Midsummer Night's Dream!

Palmer. By mi Lady, and I wolde be loth
To wayt on the better of you both.

Pedler. Yet be ye senser, for all thys dout,
Thys waytynge must be brought about;
Men cannot prosper wylfully ledde;
All thynge decay when there is no hedde.

Synnes ye cannot agree in voyce
Who shall be hed, there is no choyce

But to devyse some maner thynge

The Pedler goes on to add that this is a matter in which he can be judge, having some skill in it himself; whereupon they elect him umpire and proceed to try their skill. There is not time for detail, and we must come to the main point.1

Presently the Poticary happens to remark, quite incidentally and merely as a sarcastic exclamation, to the Palmer, Forsooth ye be an honest man, whereupon the others cry out 1 See the subsequent chapter on "The Doctors of Shakspere's Time" for a catalogue of quaint drugs here enumerated by the Poticary.