Rafe. London, _to thee I do present the merry Month of May,_ _Let each true Subject be content to hear me what I say:_ _For from the top of Conduit head, as plainly may appear,_ _I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here._ _My name is_ Rafe, _by due descent, though not ignoble I,_ _Yet far inferiour to the flock of gracious Grocery._ _And by the Common-counsel of my fellows in the Strand,_ _With gilded Staff, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord here I stand._ _Rejoyce O English hearts, rejoyce, rejoyce O Lovers dear;_ _Rejoyce O City, Town, and Countrey, rejoyce eke every Shire;_ _For now the [fr]agrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort,_ _The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambs do make fine sport,_ _And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that makes the Schoolboy cry,_ _The Morrice rings while Hobby horse doth foot it featuously:_ _The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play,_ _Do kiss sometimes upon the Grass, and sometimes in the Hay._ _Now butter with a leaf of Sage is good to purge the blood,_ _Fly_ Venus _and Phlebotomy for they are neither good._ _Now little fish on tender stone, begin to cast their bellies,_ _And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of their shellies,_ _The rumbling Rivers now do warm for little boys to paddle,_ _The Sturdy Steed, now goes to grass, and up they hang his saddle._ _The heavy Hart, the blowing Buck, the Rascall and the Pricket,_ _Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leave the fearful thicket._ _And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble Town,_ _And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown:_ _With bels on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ti'de,_ _With Scarfs and Garters as you please, and Hey for our Town cry'd:_ _March out and shew your willing minds, by twenty, and by twenty,_ _To_ Hogsdon _or to_ Newington, _where Ale and Cakes are plenty._ _And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of_ London, _Lay thruming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone._ _Up then I say, both young and old, both man and maid a Maying_ _With Drums and Guns that bounce aloud, and merry Taber playing._ _Which to prolong, God save our King, and send his Countrey peace,_ _And root out Treason from the Land, and so my friends I cease._ Finis Act. 4. _Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter Merchant solus._ _Merch._ I will have no great store of company at the wedding, a couple of neighbors and their wives, and we will have a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck with Rose-mary. _Enter_ Jasper[,] _his face mealed_. _Jasp._ Forbear thy pains fond man, it is too late. _Merch._ Heaven bless me: _Jasper_?