Ye sleep, but we do not, that shall we try,
Your fingers be numbed, our work will not lie.
Tib. Talk. If ye do so again—well, I would advise you nay:
In good sooth, one stop more, and I make holyday!
They sing the third time.
Pipe, merry Annot, &c.
Trilla, Trilla, Trillary.
Now, Tibbet; now, Annot; now, Margery;
Now whippet apace for the maistry:
But it will not be, our mouth is so dry.