IV
In the which is rehearsed how Her Ladyship
did nimbly slip into man’s
attire and estate.
Through the fast gathering mist, through the smoke that’s London’s own, the two women leaning behold a gay company of gallants rounding the far corner, two hundred feet away; linked arms, swords a-touching, heels a-clattering; one voice high and young, uplifted in a lilt like this: Lady Peggy had heard that voice before.
In years to come when gallants sing,
In praise of ladies fair,
All will allow, I pledge you square,
That brighter eyes n’er banished care,
Than those that bade us do and dare,