But even to that, as to the rest, farewell.
Enter Lacie, Warrain, Ermsbie, booted and spurd.
Lacie. Come on, my wags, weere near the keepers lodge.
Heere have I oft walkt in the watrie meades, 40
And chatted with my lovely Marg[a]ret.
Warraine. Sirha Ned, is not this the keeper?
Lacie. Tis the same.
Ermsbie. The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton to him; a nunne, my lord. 45
Lacie. Keeper, how farest thou? holla, man, what cheere?
How doth Peggie, thy daughter and my love?