1 On a time in summers season, Iocky late with Ienny walking, Like a lout made loue with talking, When he should be doing, Reason Still he cries, when he should dally, Ienny sweet, sweet, shall I, shall I. 2 Ienny as most women vse it, Who say nay when they would haue it, With a bolde face seemed to craue it, With a saint looke did refuse it, Iocky lost his time to dally, Still he cries, sweet, shall I, shall I. 3 She who knew that backward dealing, Was a foe to forward longing, To auoide her owne hearts wronging, With a sigh loues sute reuealing, Said Iocky sweet when you would dally, Doe you cry, sweet, shall I, shall I. 4 Iocky knew by her replying, That a no is I in wooing, That an asking without doing, Is the way to loues denying. Now he knowes when he would dally, How to spare, sweet, shall I, shall I.