Exeunt.
Fant. But harke you, gammer, me thinkes this Jack bore a great sway in the parish. 495
Old woman. O this Jack was a marvelous fellow; he was but a poore man, but very well beloved: you shall see anon what this Jack will come to.
Enter the harvest men singing, with women in their hands.
Frol. Soft, who have wee heere? our amorous harvest starres.[1089]
Fant. I, I, let us sit still and let them alone. 500
Heere they begin to sing, the song doubled.[1090]
Soe heere we come a reaping, a reaping,
To reape our harvest fruite,
And thus we passe the yeare so long,