Fifth.  You monstrous madcap, does your skin Itch for the third time to try that inn?  I’ve had enough for my taste in that quarter.

Servant-girl.  No!  I’m going back again to town for one.

Others.  Under those poplars we are sure to meet him.

First Girl.  But that for me is no great fun;
For you are always sure to get him,
He never dances with any but you. 
Great good to me your luck will do!

Others.  He’s not alone, I heard him say, The curly-head would be with him to-day.

Scholar.  Stars! how the buxom wenches stride there!  Quick, brother! we must fasten alongside there.  Strong beer, good smart tobacco, and the waist Of a right handsome gall, well rigg’d, now that’s my taste.

Citizen’s Daughter.  Do see those fine, young fellows yonder! 
’Tis, I declare, a great disgrace;
When they might have the very best, I wonder,
After these galls they needs must race!

Second scholar [to the first]. 
Stop! not so fast! there come two more behind,
My eyes! but ain’t they dressed up neatly? 
One is my neighbor, or I’m blind;
I love the girl, she looks so sweetly. 
Alone all quietly they go,
You’ll find they’ll take us, by and bye, in tow.

First.  No, brother!  I don’t like these starched up ways.  Make haste! before the game slips through our fingers.  The hand that swings the broom o’ Saturdays On Sundays round thy neck most sweetly lingers.

Citizen.  No, I don’t like at all this new-made burgomaster! 
His insolence grows daily ever faster. 
No good from him the town will get! 
Will things grow better with him?  Never! 
We’re under more constraint than ever,
And pay more tax than ever yet.

Beggar. [Sings.] Good gentlemen, and you, fair ladies,
    With such red cheeks and handsome dress,
    Think what my melancholy trade is,
    And see and pity my distress! 
    Help the poor harper, sisters, brothers! 
    Who loves to give, alone is gay. 
    This day, a holiday to others,
    Make it for me a harvest day.

Another citizen. 
Sundays and holidays, I like, of all things, a good prattle
Of war and fighting, and the whole array,
When back in Turkey, far away,
The peoples give each other battle. 
One stands before the window, drinks his glass,
And sees the ships with flags glide slowly down the river;
Comes home at night, when out of sight they pass,
And sings with joy, “Oh, peace forever!”

Third citizen.  So I say, neighbor! let them have their way,
Crack skulls and in their crazy riot
Turn all things upside down they may,
But leave us here in peace and quiet.

Old Woman [to the citizen’s daughter]. 
Heyday, brave prinking this! the fine young blood! 
Who is not smitten that has met you?—­
But not so proud!  All very good! 
And what you want I’ll promise soon to get you.