Well can they iudge of nappy Ale,
And tell at large a Winter tale ;                                  10
Climb vp to the Apple loft,
And turne the Crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the fathers ioy,
And little Tom the mothers boy.
All their pleasure is content ;
And care, to pay their yearely rent.

Ione can call by name her Cowes,
And decke her windowes with greene boughs ;
Shee can wreathes and tuttyes make,
And trimme with plums a Bridall Cake.                20
Iacke knowes what brings gaine or losse ;
And his long Flaile can stoutly tosse :
Make the hedge, which others breake,
And euer thinkes what he doth speake.

Now, you Courtly Dames and Knights,
That study onely strange delights ;
Though you scorne the home-spun gray,
And reuell in your rich array :
Though your tongues dissemble deepe,
And can your heads from danger keepe ;            30
Yet, for all your pompe and traine,
Securer liues the silly Swaine.