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Tita. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song ; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds ; Some, war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats ; and some, keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits : Sing me now asleep ; Then to your offices, and let me rest.

Per. Come, take your flowers : Methinks, I play as I have seen them do In Whitsun' pastorals : sure, this robe of mine Does change my disposition. Flo. What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ;