She loved me deerly, even as her own soul:
But on the next morrow we parted with sorrow,
And so I lay with her at Hockley-i’th’-hole.
[p. 27.]
Maidens delight.
A Young man of late, that lackt a mate,
And courting came unto her,
With Cap, and Kiss, and sweet Mistris,
But little could he do her;
Quoth she, my friend, let kissing end,