Then shall ye see Tibet sirs, treade the mosse so trimme,
Nay, why sayd I treade? ye shall see hir glide and swimme,
Not lumperdee clumperdee like our spaniell Rig.
Trupeny. Mary then prickmedaintie come toste me a fig,
Who shall then know our Tib Talke apace trow ye?
An. Alyface. And why not Annot Alyface as fyne as she?
Trupeny. And what had Tom Trupeny, a father or none?
An. Alyface. Then our prety newe come man will looke to be one.
Trupeny. We foure I trust shall be a ioily mery knot.
Shall we sing a fitte to welcome our friende, Annot?