"I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese,
As good as tooth may chawe,
And bread and wildings souling well,
(And therewithall did drawe
His lardrie) and in yeaning see
Yon crumpling ewe," quoth he,
"Did twinne this fall, and twin shouldst thou,
If I might tup with thee."
"Thou art too elvish, faith thou art,
Too elvish and too coy:
Am I, I pray thee, beggarly,
That such a flocke enjoy?
"I wis I am not: yet that thou
Doest hold me in disdaine
Is brimme abroad, and made a gybe
To all that keepe this plaine.
"There be as quaint (at least that thinke
Themselves as quaint) that crave
The match, that thou, I wot not why,
Maist but mislik'st to have.
"How wouldst thou match? (for well I wot,
Thou art a female) I
Her know not here that I willingly
With maiden-head would die.
"The plowmans labour hath no end,
And he a churle will prove:
The craftsman hath more worke in hand
Then fitteth unto love:
"The merchant, traffiquing abroad,
Suspects his wife at home:
A youth will play the wanton; and
An old man prove a mome.
"Then chuse a shepheard: with the sun
He doth his flocke unfold,
And all the day on hill or plaine
He merrie chat can hold;
"And with the sun doth folde againe;
Then jogging home betime,
He turnes a crab,[5] or turves a round,
Or sings some merry ryme.
"Nor lacks he gleefull tales, whilst round
The nut-brown bowl doth trot;
And sitteth singing care away,
Till he to bed be got: