sing,
Cuckow, jug, jug, pu--we, to-wit, to-whoo.

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And hear we aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckow, jug, jug, pu--we, to-wit, to-whoo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit;
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckow, jug, jug, pu--we, to-wit, to-whoo.
Spring, the sweet spring_.

WILL SUM. By my troth, they have voices as clear as crystal: this is
a pratty thing, if it be for nothing but to go a-begging with.

SUM. Believe me, Ver, but thou art pleasant bent;
This humour should import a harmless mind.
Know'st thou the reason why I sent for thee?

VER. No, faith, nor care not whether I do or no.
If you will dance a galliard, so it is: if not--

_Falangtado, Falangtado,
To wear the black and yellow,
Falantado, Falantado,
My mates are gone, I'll follow_.[26]

SUM. Nay, stay awhile, we must confer and talk.
Ver, call to mind I am thy sovereign lord,
And what thou hast, of me thou hast and hold'st.
Unto no other end I sent for thee,
But to demand a reckoning at thy hands,
How well or ill thou hast employ'd my wealth.

VER. If that be all, we will not disagree:
A clean trencher and a napkin you shall have presently.

WILL SUM. The truth is, this fellow hath been a tapster in his days.

VER _goes in, and fetcheth out the hobby-horse[27] and
the morris-dance, who dance about_.

SUM. How now? is this the reckoning we shall have?

WIN. My lord, he doth abuse you; brook it not.

AUT. _Summa totalis_, I fear, will prove him but a fool.

VER. About, about! lively, put your horse to it, rein him harder; jerk
him with your wand: sit fast, sit fast, man! fool, hold up your ladle
there.

WILL SUM. O brave Hall![28] O, well-said, butcher. Now for the credit
of Worcestershire. The finest set of morris-dancers that is between
this and Streatham. Marry, methinks there is one of them danceth like
a clothier's horse, with a woolpack on his back. You, friend with the
hobby-horse, go not too fast, for fear of wearing out my lord's
tile-stones with your hobnails.

VER. So, so, so; trot the ring twice over, and away. May it please my
lord, this is the grand capital sum; but there are certain parcels
behind, as you shall see.

SUM. Nay, nay, no more; for this is all too much.

VER. Content yourself; we'll have variety.

_Her