THE MILK-MAID'S SONG 



A gown made of the finest wool, 

 Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 

 Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold, 

 With buckles of the purest gold. 



A belt of straw, and ivy-buds, 

 With coral clasps and amber studs ; 

 And if these pleasures may thee move, 

 Come live with me, and be my Love. 



Thy silver dishes for thy meat, 

 As precious as the Gods do eat, 

 Shall on an ivory table be 

 Prepar'd each day for thee and me. 



The Shepherd-Swains shall dance and sing, 

 For thy delight each May-morning : 

 If these delights thy mind may move, 

 Then live with me, and be my Love. 



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 '11 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, 

 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. 

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