Madge. With all my heart.
Viola (aside). What true contented happiness dwells here,
More than in cities! Would to God my father
Had lived like one of these, and bred me up
To milk, and do as they do. Methinks ’tis
A life that I would choose.
Maids!
For charity, give a poor wench one draught of milk,
That weariness and hunger have nigh famished!
Nan. If I’d but one cow’s milk in all the world