Vio. I thank you Sir, and you;
Woman they say, was only made of man,
Methinks 'tis strange they should be so unlike,
It may be all the best was cut away
To make the woman, and the naught was left
Behind with him, I'll sit me down and weep,
All things have cast me from 'em but the earth;
The evening comes, and every little flower
Droops now, as well as I.
Enter two Milk-maids with pails.
Nan. Good Madge lets rest a little, by my troth I am weary, this new pail is a plaguy heavy one, would Tom were hang'd for choosing it, 'tis the [untoward'st] fool in a Countrey.
Madg. With all my heart, and I thank you too, Nan.
Vio. What true contented happiness dwels here,
More than in Cities! wou'd to God my Father
Had liv'd like one of these, and bred me up
To milk: and do as they do: methinks
'Tis a life that I wou'd choose, if I were now
To tell my time agen, above a Princes; maids, for charity
Give a poor wench one draught of Milk,
That weariness and hunger have nigh famish'd.
Nan. If I had but one Cows Milk in all the world, you should have some on't; there, drink more, the Cheese shall pay for it, alas poor heart, she's drie.
Madge. Do you dwell here abouts?
Vio. No, would I did.
Nan. Madge, if she [does] not looke like my cosin Sue o'th' Moor lane, as one thing can look like another—
Madge. Nay, Sue has a hazle eye, I know Sue well, and by your leave, not so trim a body neither, this is a feat bodied thing I tell you.