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But Shepherds I haue wrong'd you, 'tis now late,
For see our Maid stands hollowing on yond gate,
'Tis supper-time, withall, and we had need
Make haste away, vnlesse we meane to speed
With those that kisse the Hares foot: Rhumes are bred,
Some say, by going supperlesse to bed,
And those I loue not; therefore cease my rime,
And put my Pipes vp till another time.