O yes, if anyone at fifteen hath taken up and found a pretty thing that hath her maiden head unbound, if any gallant have with Catertray, play'd the wise Aker, and made all away, let him come to the Crier, there will be laid a thousand pound to ten, that none (of these) will ere be had again. O yes, if note or line, or word be here let fall, that gives the taste of Gall, let him come to the Crier, I will lay my lips to a fat shroving Hen, that none of these will be had again. For this I say and likewise I protest, no arrows here are shot at any breast, but all are welcome to my music feast:
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