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If swains belie not, thou hast prov'd the smart,
Cuddy. Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise, Lest blisters sore on thy own tongue arise. Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome swain, The wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain! From Cloddipole we learn to read the skies, To know when hail will fall, or winds arise. He taught us erst the heifer's tail to view, When stuck aloft, that showers would straight ensue: He first that useful secret did explain, That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain, When swallows fleet soar high, and sport in air, He told us that the welkin would be clear. Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse, And praise his sweetheart in alternate verse. I'll wager this same oaken staff with thee, That Cloddipole shall give the prize to me. L. Clout. See this tobacco-pouch, that's lind with
hair, Made of the skin of sleekest fallow-deer.
This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue,
due. Cuddy. Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting
L. Clout. My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass,
Cuddy. My brown Buxoma is the featest maid
L. Clout. Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near; Of her bereft, 'tis winter all the
Cuddy. As with Buxoma once I work’d at hay, Ev'n noon-tide labour seem'd an holiday;
And holidays, if haply she were gone,
L. Clout. As Blouzelinda, in a gamesome mood,
Cuddy. As my Buxoma, in a morning fair, With gentle finger strok'd her milky care, I queintly stole a kiss; at first, 'tis true, She frown'd, yet after granted one or two. Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows. L. Clout. Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen but.
L. Clout. As once I play'd at blindman's buff, it
hapt About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt. I miss'd the swains, and seiz'd on Blouzelind. True speaks that ancient proverb, “ Love is blind.”
Cuddy. As at hot-cockles once I laid me down,
Cuddy. Across the fallen oak the plank I laid,
plain, This wily riddle puzzles every swain. " What flower is that which bears the virgin's name, The richest metal joined with the same ?” Cuddy. Answer, thou carle, and judge this riddle
right, I'll frankly own thee for a cunning wight. 6. What flower is that which royal honour craves, Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis strown on graves ?”
Cloddipole. Forbear, contending louts, give o'er
your strains !
An oaken staff each merits for his pains.
But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn,
THURSDAY; OR THE SPELL.
groan. I rue the day, a rueful day I trow, The woful day, a day indeed of woe! When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, A maiden fine bedight he hapt to love; The maiden fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forsakes the plains. Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear; Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. “ With my sharp heel I three times mark the
ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.”
When first the year I heard the cuckow sing, And call with welcome note the budding spring, I straightway set a-running with such haste, Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast; Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rising bank I sat adown, Then doff'd my shoe, and by my troth, I swear, Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair,