Coridon:
Now the Maids and the Men are making of Hay,
We h've left the dull Fools, and are stolen away.
Then Mopsa no more
Be Coy as before,
But let us merrily Play,
And kiss the sweet time away.
Mopsa:
Why, how now, Sir Clown, what makes you so bold?
I'd have ye to know I'm not made of that mold.
I tell you again,
Maids must never Kiss no Men.
No, no: no Kissing at all;
I'll not Kiss, till I Kiss you for good and all.
Coridon:
Not Kiss you at all?
Mopsa:
No, no, no Kissing at all!
Coridon:
Why no Kissing at all?
Mopsa:
I'll not Kiss, till I Kiss you for good and all.
Coridon:
Should you give me a score,
'Twould not lessen your store,
The bid me chearfully, chearfully Kiss,
And take, and take, my fill of your Bliss.
Mopsa:
I'll not trust you so far, I know you too well;
Should I give you aninch, you'd soon take an Ell.
The Lordlike you Rule,
And laugh as the Fool,
No, no, &c.
Coridon:
So small a Request,
You must not, you cannot, you shall not deny,
Not will I admit of another Reply.
Mopsa:
Nay, what do you mean?
O fie, fie, fie!