Jac. O I shall lose my self!
Hub. I'll wait upon you, And make you dainty Nose-gays.
Jac. And where will you stick 'em?
Hub. Here in [thy] bosom, Sweet, and make a crown of Lilies For your fair head.
Jac. And will you love me deed-law?
Hub. With all my Heart.
Jac. Call me to morrow then, And we'll have brave chear, and go to Church together: Give you good ev'n Sir.
Hub. But one word fair Minche.
Jac. I must be gone a milking.
Hub. Ye shall presently. Did you never hear of a young maid called Jaculin?