11.
And piping he did spend the day,
As merry as a Popinjay,
Which lik’d faire Dowsabell,
That wod she ought, or wod she nought,
The Shepheard would not from her thought,
In love she longing fell:
12.
With that she tucked up her Frock,
(White as the Lilly was her Smock,)