About thy necke so many a fold.
“Do thou me off thy velvett hat.
With fether in that is so ffine;
All unto thy silken shirt
That’s wrought with many a golden seam.
...
“‘What must be my name, worthy Steward?
I pray thee now, tell it me:’
‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,
To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’”