With hawthorn buds, and sweet eglantine,
And garlands of roses, and sops-in-wine.
Such merrimake holy saints doth queme,
But we here sitten as drown'd in dream.
PIERS. For younkers, Palinode, such follies fit,
But we tway be men of elder wit.
PAL. Sicker this morrow, no longer ago,
I saw a shoal of shepheards outgo
With singing, and shouting, and jolly cheer:
Before them yode a lusty tabrere,