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Satire 28.

[Lord, what meane you Gossipp? praie forbeare]

Lord, what meane you Gossipp? praie forbeare,
My husband noates your often comming here,
Soe soone as euer hee is gott toth' Plowe,
You are here: praie la-bee: what ayle you now?
I will not faith: good-lord y'are such a man,
I hope you'le rest: hee will bee here a nan:
Y'are such an other: whoo'd thinke you such a one?
Oh! I heare my husband: praie bee gone.
La-bee I saie: fie, fie: I praie la-bee,
Hee's in the yard, hee's crying hutt and gee.
Harke, harke; J saith J heare him: oh tis sore!
Naibour: sneake out, & I will watch at dore.