Grim. Go to then lustily, I will sing in my man’s voice:
Chave a troubling base buss.
Jack. You are like to bear the bob, for we will give it:
Set out your bussing base, and we will quiddle upon it.
[Grim singeth Buss.
Jack sings. Too nidden and too nidden.
Will sings. Too nidden and toodle toodle doo nidden;
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?
Grim. Why, my fellows, think ich am a cow, that you make such toying?
Jack. Nay, by ’r Lady, you are no cow, by your singing;