And open fields, and we not see’t?
Come, we’ll abroad; and let’s obey
The Proclamation made for May,
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying.
There’s not a budding boy, or girle, this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May;
A deale of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame,
Before that we have left to dreame;