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Man. Sim, an't please your Honour.
Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Simon; put forth thy hand and fill the pot.
[The servant gives him drink. Enter Lady, with Attendants. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.
Lady. How fares my noble Lord ?
Sly. Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where's my wife ? .
Lady. Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me huf- . band? My men should call me lord, I am your good