Edward. Raphe shall have a new coate.
Raphe. God thanke you when I have it on my backe, Ned.
Edward. Lacie, the foole hath laid a perfect plot;
For why our countrie Margret is so coy,
And standes so much upon her honest pointes, 120
That marriage, or no market with the mayd.
Ermsbie, it must be nigroma[n]ticke spels
And charmes of art that must inchaine her love,
Or else shall Edward never win the girle.
Therefore, my wags, weele horse us in the morne, 125