But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.—
Enter MUSICIANS.
GLEE.[[115]]
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino;
That o'er the green corn fields did pass,
In the spring-time, the pretty spring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding, ding:—
Sweet lovers love the spring.
And therefore take the present time,
With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino;
For love is crowned with the prime
In the spring-time, the pretty spring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding, ding:—
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Jes
. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor
. The reason is your spirits are attentive: