Weele intot’h field and there weele trie it out.
Lets goe (saies Tom) no longer by this hand,
Nay stay (quoth Dicke) lets see if we can stand.
Then forth they goe after the drunken pace,
Which God he knowes was with a reeling grace,
Tom made his bargaine, thus with bonnie Dicke
If it should chance my foote or so should slip,
How wouldst thou use me or after what Size,
Wouldst bare me shorter or wouldst let me rise.
Nay God forbid our quarrells not so great,