the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be spent. [_Sings._] An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, And an old murderer, Now I have a bout with you. Ah my mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She I’ll swear hath corns. Am I come hither arm’d against myself. Stay not, be but sworn my love, And bid her hasten all the night before some festival