1 On a time in summers season,
Iocky late with Ienny walking,
Like a lout made loue with talking,
When he should be doing, Reason
Still he cries, when he should dally,
Ienny sweet, sweet, shall I, shall I.
2 Ienny as most women vse it,
Who say nay when they would haue it,
With a bolde face seemed to craue it,
With a saint looke did refuse it,
Iocky lost his time to dally,
Still he cries, sweet, shall I, shall I.
3 She who knew that backward dealing,
Was a foe to forward longing,
To auoide her owne hearts wronging,
With a sigh loues sute reuealing,
Said Iocky sweet when you would dally,
Doe you cry, sweet, shall I, shall I.
4 Iocky knew by her replying,
That a no is I in wooing,
That an asking without doing,
Is the way to loues denying.
Now he knowes when he would dally,
How to spare, sweet, shall I, shall I.
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