For thou haſt created us for thy ſelfe, and our heart cannot be quieted till it may fine repoſe in thee.

Heremites on an heep · with hoked staues, Wenten to Walsyngham · and here wenches after; Grete lobyes and longe · that loth were to swynke, Clotheden hem in copis · to be knowen fram othere; And shopen hem heremites · here ese to haue.

Run through the field with frisks and kicks, In various capreols and tricks, Some ease poor thing, alass, to find;

That's what I call a party!