The Third Day 71 



Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, 

 Thy coral clasps, and amber studs, 

 All these in me no means can move 

 To come to thee, and be thy love. 



What should we talk of dainties, then, 

 Of better meat than's fit for men ? 

 These are but vain : that's only good 

 Which God hath blessed, and sent for food. 



But could youth last, and love still breed ; 

 Had joys no date, nor age no need ; 

 Then those delights my mind might move 

 To live with thee, and be thy love. 



MOTHER. Well ! I have done my song. But 

 stay, honest anglers ; for I will make Maudlin sing 

 you one short song more. Maudlin ! sing that song 

 that you sung last night, when young Coridon the 

 shepherd played so purely on his oaten pipe to you 

 and your cousin Betty. 



MAUDLIN. I will, mother. 



I married a wife of late, 

 The more's my unhappy fate: 

 I married her for love, 

 As my fancy did me move, 

 And not for a worldly estate : 



But oh I the green sickness 

 Soon changed her likeness ; 

 And all her beauty did fail. 

 But 'tis not so 

 With those that go 

 Thro' frost and snow, 

 As all men know, 

 And carry the milking-pail. 



PlSCATOR. Well sung, good woman ; I thank 

 you. Fll 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, 



