The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. Then read Sir Walter Ralegh’s satiric companion poem

Read Christopher Marlowe’s “The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. Then read Sir Walter Ralegh’s satiric companion poem” The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd. “How does the urbane and witty Sir Walter Ralegh make fun of the pastoral life in his response poem,” The  Nymph’s Reply.  .  . “?
 Address the prompt with a 300-400 words response.

 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. (Before 1593.)

COME live with me, and be my love;

    And we will all the pleasures prove

    That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

    Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,

 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks

 By shallow rivers, to whose falls

 Melodious birds sing madrigals.

 And I will make thee beds of roses

 And a thousand fragrant posies;

 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

 Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

 A gown made of the finest wool

 Which from our pretty lambs we pull;

 Fair-lined slippers for the cold,

 With buckles of the purest gold;

 A belt of straw and ivy-buds,

 With coral clasps and amber-studs:

 And if these pleasures may thee move,

 Come live with me, and be my love.

 The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing

 For thy delight each May-morning:

 If these delights thy mind may move,

 Then live with me and be my love.


                  RALEGH’S REPLY.

THE NYMPH’S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD.

IF all the world and love were young,

      And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,

      These pretty pleasures might me move

 To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,

 When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;

 And Philomel becometh dumb;

 The rest complains of cares to come.

 The flowers do fade, and wanton fields

 To wayward winter reckoning yields:

 A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

 Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

 The gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,

 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies

 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, –

 In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

 Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,

 Thy coral clasps and amber studs,

 All these in me no means can move

 To come to thee and be thy love.

 But could youth last and love still breed,

 Had joys no date nor age no need,

 Then these delights my mind might move

 To live with thee and be thy love.

Source: 

Hannah, J., The Poems of Sir Walter Raleigh.

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