_Of Tom Tram's wooing Cicily Summers, the neat Wench of the West._
Cicily Summers, whose nose was then as fair as the midnight sun,
which shined as bright as Baconthine, was beloved of young Tom Tram;
and a sad story to tell, he grew not worth the bread he eat, through
pining away for her love. Tom was loth to speak but still whistled;
At last, when Cicily made no answer, he burst out in thus: O Cicily
Summers, if I Tom Tram, son of mother Winter, and thou Cicily Summers,
be joined together what a quarter shall we keep, as big as three half
years; besides, Cicily Summers, when thou scoldest, then Winter shall
presently cool thy heat; and when we walk on the street they'll say,
yonder goes Summer and Winter; and for children, we shall beget every
year a generation of Almanacks. So they went to the parson and were
married; but they fell out so extremely, that she scolded all the
summer season; and Tom he drank good ale, and told old tales all the
winter time, and so they could never but thrive all the year thro'. Tom
lived by good ale, and his wife by eating oatmeal; and when Tom went to
be drunk in the morning, she put oatmeal in the ale, and made caudle
with mustard instead of eggs, which bit Tom so by the nose, that it
would run water; but the next day he would be drunk again.