Serlsby. Let it be me; and trust me, Marg[a]ret,
The meads invironed with the silver streames,
Whose batling pastures fatneth[1468] all my flockes,
Yeelding forth fleeces stapled[1469] with such woole 60
As Lempster cannot yeelde more finer stuffe,
And fortie kine with faire and burnisht[1470] heads,
With strouting[1471] duggs, that paggle[1472] to the ground,
Shall serve thy dary, if thou wed with me.
Lambert. Let passe the countrie wealth, as flocks and kine, 65
And lands that wave with Ceres golden sheves,