V

Stow your whids & plant, and whid no more of that Budg a beak the crackmas & tip lowr with thy prat If treyning thou dost feare, thou ner wilt foist a Ian, Then mill, and wap and treine for me, A gere peck in thy gan.

As they were thus after a strange maner a wooing, in comes by chance a clapper-dudgeon for a pinte of Ale, who as soone as he was spied, they left off their roguish poetry, and fell to mocke of the poor maunder thus.