THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 67 



God speed you, good woman ! I have been a-fishing, and 

 am going to Bleak Hall to my bed, and having caught more 

 fish than will sup myself and my friend, I will bestow this 

 upon you and your daughter, for I use to sell none. 



MiLK-W. Marry, God requite you, sir, and we'll eat it 

 cheerfully ; and if you come this way a-fishing two months 

 ence. a grace of God, I'll give you a syllabub of new verjuicein 

 a new-made haycock for it, and my Maudlin shall sing you one 

 of her best ballads ; for she and I both love all anglers, they 

 be such honest, civil, quiet men ; in the mean time will you 

 drink a draught of red cow's milk ? you shall have it freely 



Pise. To, I thank you ; but, I pray, do us a courtesy that 

 shall stand you and your daughter in nothing, and yet we will 

 think ourselves still something in your debt; it is but to sing 

 us a song that was sung by your daughter when I last passed 

 over this meadow about eight or nine days since. 



MiLK-W. What song was it, I pray ? Was it " Come Shep- 

 herds, deck your heads ?" or, " As at noon Dulcina rested ?" 

 or, " Philida flouts me ]" or, " Chevy Chace F or, " Johnny 

 Armstrong]" or, " Troy Town ]" 



Pise. No, it is none of those; it is a song that your daugh- 

 ter sung the first part, and you sung the answer to it. 



MiLK-W. 0, I know it now. I learned the first part in 

 my golden age, when I was about the age of my poor daugh- 

 ter ; and the latter part, which indeed fits me best now, but 

 two or three years ago, when the cares of the world began to 

 take hold of me : but you shall, God willing, hear them both, 

 and sung as well as we can, for we both love anglers. Come, 

 Maudlin, sing the first part to the gentleman with a merry 

 heart, and I'll sing the second, when you have done. 



Come live with me, and be my love, 

 And we will all the pleasures prove 

 That valleys, groves, or hills, or field, 

 Or woods and steepy mountains yield ; 



Where we will sit upon the rocks, 

 And see the shepherds feed our flocks 

 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 

 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 



And I will make thee beds of roses, 

 And then a thousand fragrant posies, 

 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 

 Embroider' d all with leaves of myrtle ; 



