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 |