That love your pleasures as your lives:
To each good woman I'll give two,
Or more, if she think them too few.
Then would he change his note and sing this following, to the tune of What care I how fair she be?[[13]]
Be she blacker than the stock,
If that thou wilt make her fair,
Put her in a cambric smock,
Buy her paint and flaxen hair.
One your carrier brings to town
Will put down your city-bred;