_Amar._ But, dear Mirtillo, I have heard it told
Those learned men brought incense, myrrh and gold
From countries far, with store of spices sweet,
And laid them down for offerings at his feet.
_Mirt._ 'Tis true, indeed; and each of us will bring
Unto our smiling and our blooming king
A neat, though not so great an offering.
_Amar._ A garland for my gift shall be
Of flowers ne'er suck'd by th' thieving bee;
And all most sweet; yet all less sweet than he.
_Amin._ And I will bear, along with you,
Leaves dropping down the honeyed dew,
With oaten pipes as sweet as new.
_Mirt._ And I a sheep-hook will bestow,
To have his little kingship know,
As he is prince, he's shepherd too.
_Chor._ Come, let's away, and quickly let's be dress'd,
And quickly give--_the swiftest grace is best_.
And when before him we have laid our treasures,
We'll bless the babe, then back to country pleasures.

_White_, favourable.

214. TO THE LARK.

Good speed, for I this day
Betimes my matins say:
Because I do
Begin to woo,
Sweet-singing lark,
Be thou the clerk,
And know thy when
To say, Amen.
And if I prove
Bless'd in my love,
Then thou shalt be
High-priest to me,
At my return,
To incense burn;
And so to solemnise
Love's and my sacrifice.

215. THE BUBBLE. A SONG.

To my revenge and to her desperate fears
Fly, thou made bubble of my sighs and tears.
In the wild air when thou hast rolled about,
And, like a blasting planet, found her out.
Stoop, mount, pass by to take her eye, then glare
Like to a dreadful comet in the air:
Next, when thou dost perceive her fixed sight
For thy revenge to be most opposite,
Then, like a globe or ball of wild-fire, fly,
And break thyself in shivers on her eye.

216. A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS.

You are a tulip seen to-day,
But, dearest, of so short a stay
That where you grew scarce man can say.

You are a lovely July-flower,
Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower
Will force you hence, and in an hour.

You are a sparkling rose i' th' bud,
Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where you or grew or stood.

You are a full-spread, fair-set vine,
And can with tendrils love entwine,
Yet d