CCCLXV.
Up stairs, down stairs, upon my lady's window,
There I saw a cup of sack and a race of ginger;
Apples at the fire, and nuts to crack,
A little boy in the cream-pot up to his neck.
CCCLXVI.
I would if I cou'd,
If I cou'dn't, how cou'd I?
I cou'dn't, without I cou'd, cou'd I?