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How do you, pretty lady?
How are you doing, my pretty lady?

Well, God'ield you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table.
I’m quite well, and may God give you what you deserve. They say the baker’s daughter was turned into an owl for refusing Jesus' bread. My lord, we know what we are now, but not what we may become. May God be at your table.

Conceit upon her father.
She’s talking about her dead father.

Pray you, let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
  All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
  To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,
  And dupped the chamber door.
Let in the maid that out a maid
  Never departed more.
Oh, let’s not talk about that, but when they ask you what it means, just say:
Tomorrow is St. Valentine’s Day
  And early in the morning
I’m a girl below your window
  Waiting to be your Valentine.
Then he got up and put on his clothes
  And opened the door to his room.
He let in the girl, and when she left
  She wasn’t a virgin anymore.

Pretty Ophelia—
Pretty Ophelia—


Indeed, without an oath I’ll make an end on ’t:
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
  Alack, and fie, for shame!
Young men will do ’t, if they come to ’t.
  By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me,
  You promised me to wed.”
He answers,
“So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
  An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
Hang on, I’ll end it soon, I promise:
By the name of Jesus and Saint Charity,
  My goodness, what a shame it is,
Young men will do it if they get a chance:
  By God, they’re very bad.
She said, “Before you got me into bed,
  You promised to marry me.”
He answers:
“I would have married you, I swear,
  If you hadn’t gone to bed with me.”