A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; 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 around 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; And age complains of care to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy bed 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 will make Maudlin to 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. MAUD. I will, mother. I married a wife of late, I married her for love, And not for a worldly estate : |