It tempts a man at first, yet strange to utter,
When one comes neere, fogh gudds, it stinks of butter.
Another tripping comes to her Mistris’s Pew,
Where being arriv’d, she tryes if she can view
Her young mans face, and straight heaves up her coats,
That her sweet-heart may see her true-love knots.
But having sate up late the night before
To let the young-man in at the back-doore,
She feeleth drowzinesse upon her creeping,
Turnes downe one proofe, and then she falls a sleeping.