Ask me why I send you here
This sweet Infanta of the year?
Ask me why I send to you
This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew?
I will whisper to your ears:
The sweets of love are mix'd with tears.
Ask me why this flower does show
So yellow-green, and sickly too?
Ask me why the stalk is weak
And bending (yet it doth not break)?
I will answer: These discover
What fainting hopes are in a lover.
581. THE TITHE. TO THE BRIDE.
If nine times you your bridegroom kiss,
The tenth you know the parson's is.
Pay then your tithe, and doing thus,
Prove in your bride-bed numerous.
If children you have ten, Sir John
Won't for his tenth part ask you one.
Sir John, the parson.
582. A FROLIC.
Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come;
So, while I thus sit crown'd,
I'll drink the aged Cæcubum,
Until the roof turn round.
Drawer, waiter.
Cæcubum, Cæcuban, an old Roman wine.