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The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde, heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde, (15) His armes about her body twin’d and said, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
The Country-Kit said, well forsooth, heigh hoe well forsooth, But that I haue a longing tooth, (20) a longing tooth that makes me crie: Alas (said he) what garres thy griefe, heigh hoe what garres thy griefe? A wound (quoth she) without reliefe, I feare a mayd that I shall die.
(25) If that be all, the Shepheard sayd, heigh hoe the Shepheard sayd, Ile make thee wiue it gentle Mayde, and so recure thy maladie: Hereon they kist with many an oath, (30) heigh hoe many an oath, And fore God Pan did plight their troath, so to the Church apace they hie.
And God send euery pretty peate, heigh hoe the pretty peate, (35) That feares to die of this conceite, so kinde a friend to helpe at last: Then Maydes shall neuer long againe, heigh hoe to long againe, When they finde ease for such a paine, (40) thus my Roundelay is past.

FINIS. Thom. Lodge.