Wife. Ah, my middle!
I pray to God so mild,
If ever I you beguiled,
That I eat this child,
That lies in this cradle.
Mac. Peace, woman, for God's pain, and cry not so:
Thou spill'st thy brain, and mak'st me full woe.
2nd Shepherd. I know our sheep be slain, what find ye too?
3rd Shepherd. All work we in vain: as well may we go.
But hatters.[169]
I can find no flesh,
Hard nor nesh,[170]
Salt nor fresh,
But two tome[171] platters:
No cattle but this, tame nor wild,
None, as have I bliss; as loud as he smiled.
Wife. No, so God me bliss, and give me joy of my child.
1st Shepherd. We have markëd amiss: I hold us beguiled.
2nd Shepherd. Sir, done!
Sir, our lady him save,
Is your child a knave?[172]
Mac. Any lord might him have
This child to his son.
When he wakens he skips, that joy is to see.
3rd Shepherd. In good time, be his steps, and happy they be!
But who was his gossips, tell now to me!
Mac. So fair fall their lips!