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Thy silver dishes for thy meat,
The Shepherd-Swains shall dance and sing,
Ven. Trust me, Master, it is a choice Song, and sweetly sung by honest Maudlin. I now see it was not without cause, that our good Queen Elizabeth did so often wish herself a Milk-maid all the month of May, because they are not troubled with fears and cares, but sing sweetly all the day, and sleep securely all the night: and without doubt, honest, innocent, pretty Maudlin does so. I'll bestow Sir Thomas Overbury's Milk-maid's wish upon her, "That she may die in the Spring, and being dead, "may have good store of flowers stuck round about "her winding sheet."
THE MILK-MAID'S MOTHER'S ANSWER.
If all the world and love were young,
But time drives flocks from, field to fold,
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy belt of straw, and ivy-buds,
What should we talk of dainties then,
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Mother. Well, I have done my song; but stay, honest Anglers, for I w ill make Maudlin to sing you one short song more. Maudlin, sing that song that you sung last night, when young Condon the Shepherd played so purely on his oaten pipe to you and your Cousin Hetty.
Maud. I will, Mother.
/ married a Wife of late,
1 married her for love,
As my fancy did me move,
But Oh! the greensickness
Pise. Well sung, good Woman; I thank you; I'll give you another dish of fish one of these days; and then beg another song of you. Come, Scholar, let Maudlin alone; do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look, yonder comes mine Hostess, to call us to supper. How now; is my Brother Peter come?