To him be the wroughten mazer alone.
PER. Perigot is well pleased with the doom,
Ne can Willie wite the witeless herdgroom.
WIL. Never dempt more right of beauty, I ween,
The shepheard of Ida that judged Beauty's queen.
CUD. But tell me, shepheards, should it not yshend
Your roundels fresh, to hear a doleful verse
Of Rosalind (who knows not Rosalind?)
That Colin made? ilk can I you rehearse.
PER. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a lad;