The Compleat ^Angler 



VEN. Trust me, my 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 milkmaid 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 milkmaid'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 MILKMAID'S MOTHER'S ANSWER 



If all the world and love were young, 

 And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 

 These pretty pleasures might me move 

 To live with thee, and be thy love. 



But Time drives flocks from field to fold, 

 When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ; 

 Then Philomel becometh dumb, 

 And age complains of care to come. 



The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 

 To wayward winter reckoning yields. 

 A honey tongue, a heart of gall, 

 Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 



Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 

 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 

 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten; 

 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 



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 tharfs fit for men ? 

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