Song.

Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing

Boy. Concolinel

Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take
this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly
hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my
Loue

Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?
Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French?
Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune
at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour
it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note,
sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue
with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you
snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike
ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on
your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your
hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting,
and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away:
these are complements, these are humours, these betraie
nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and
make them men of note: do you note men that most are
affected to these?
Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Boy. By my penne of obseruation