Ye Retort Exasperating.

"Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked, "Thou'rt fickle as my star! By far ye worste I ever sparked, You are! You really are!

Albeit yt my brains are nil, I'm gallante as can be; I'lle be to you whate'er you wille, If you'lle be more to me."

"Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do Not barter, as a rule, But I'lle be sister untoe you,— Be you my Aprille foole."