Bun. Peggie, tis true, tis Lacie for my life, 20
Or else mine art and cunning both doth faile,
Left by Prince Edward to procure his loves;
For he in greene, that holpe you runne your cheese,
Is sonne to Henry, and the Prince of Wales.
Margret. Be what he will, his lure is but for lust: 25
But did Lord Lacie like poor Marg[a]ret,
Or would he daine to wed a countrie lasse,[1341]
Frier, I would his humble handmayd be,
And for great wealth quite him with courtesie.