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Milk-woman. Marry! God requite you, Sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully.
And if you come this way a-fishing two months hence, a grace of
God!
I'll give you a syllabub of new verjuice, in a new-made hay-cock,
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
meantime will you drink a draught of red cow's milk ? you shall
have it
freely.
Piscator. No, 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-woman. What song was it, I pray? Was it, " Come, Shepherds,
deck your herds " ? or, " As at noon Dulcina rested
" ? or, " Phillida
flouts me " ? or, " Chevy Chace " ? or, "
Johnny Armstrong " ? or, "
Troy Town " ?
Piscator. No, it is none of those; it is a Song that your daughter
sung the
first part, and you sung the answer to it.
Milk-woman. O, I know it now. I learned the first part in my
golden
age, when I was about the age of my poor daughter; 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 gentlemen, with a merry
heart;
and I'll sing the second when you have done.
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