But O ben Coue what if we be clyd, [15]
Long we cannot foist & nip at last we shall be spyed, [16]
If that we be spied, O then begins our woe,
With the Harman beake out and alas, [17]
To Wittington we goe. [18]
V
Stow your whids & plant, and whid no more of that [19]
Budg a beak the crackmas & tip lowr with thy prat [20]
If treyning thou dost feare, thou ner wilt foist a Ian, [21]
Then mill, and wap and treine for me, [22]
A gere peck in thy gan. [23]
As they were thus after a strange maner a wooing, in comes by chance a
clapper-dudgeon [24] 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.